rivers of ice, by r.m. ballantyne. chapter one. the rover's return. on a certain summer morning, about the middle of the present century, a big bluff man, of seafaring aspect, found himself sauntering in a certain street near london bridge. he was a man of above fifty, but looked under forty in consequence of the healthful vigour of his frame, the freshness of his saltwater face, and the blackness of his shaggy hair. although his gait, pilot-cloth coat, and pocketed hands proclaimed him a sailor, there were one or two contradictory points about him. a huge beard and moustache savoured more of the diggings than the deep, and a brown wide-awake with a prodigiously broad brim suggested the backwoods. pausing at the head of one of those narrow lanes which--running down between warehouses, filthy little rag and bone shops, and low poverty-stricken dwellings--appear to terminate their career, not unwillingly, in the thames, the sailor gazed before him with nautical earnestness for a few seconds, then glanced at the corner house for a name; found no name; cast his eyes up to the strip of blue sky overhead, as if for inspiration; obtained none; planted his legs wide apart as if he had observed a squall coming, and expected the lane to lurch heavily--wrinkled his eyebrows, and pursed his lips. "lost yer bearin's, capp'n?" exclaimed a shrill pert voice at his side. the seaman looked down, and beheld a small boy with a head like a disorderly door-mat, and garments to match. he stood in what may be styled an imitative attitude, with his hands thrust into his ragged pockets, his little legs planted wide apart, his cap thrust well back on his head, and his eyebrows wrinkled. he also pursed his lips to such an extent that they resembled a rosebud in a dirty bush. "yes, imp," replied the seaman--he meant to have said "impudence," but stopped at the first syllable as being sufficiently appropriate--"yes, imp, i _have_ lost my bearings, and i'll give you a copper if you'll help me to find 'em." "wot sort o' copper?" demanded the urchin, "there's three sorts of 'em, you know, in this 'ere kingdom--which appears to be a queendom at present--there's a farding and a ha'penny and a penny. i mention it, capp'n," he added apologetically, "in case you don't know, for you look as if you'd come from furrin parts." the seaman's look of surprise melted into a broad grin of amusement while this speech was being fluently delivered. at its conclusion he pulled out a penny and held it up. "well, it ain't much," said the small boy, "and i ain't used to hire myself out so cheap. however, as you seem to be raither poorly off, i don't mind if i lend you a hand for that. only, please, don't mention it among your friends, as it would p'raps lower their opinion of you, d'you see? now then w'ot d'you want to know?" to this the "capp'n," still smiling at the small boy's precocious insolence, replied that he was in search of an old woman who dwelt in a small court styled grubb's court, so he was told, which lay somewhere in that salubrious neighbourhood, and asked if he, the imp, knew of such a place. "know's of it? i should think i does. w'y, i lives there. it's right down at the foot o' this 'ere lane, an' a wery sweet 'ristocratik spot it is--quite a perninsular, bein' land, leastwise mud, a'most surrounded by water, the air bein' 'ighly condoosive to the 'ealth of rats, likewise cats. as to old women, there's raither a broad sprinklin' of 'em in the court, rangin' from the ages of seventy to a hundred an twenty, more or less, an' you'll take some time to go over 'em all, capp'n, if you don't know your old woman's name." "her name is roby--," said the seaman. "o, roby? ah," returned the small boy, looking sedately at the ground, "let me see--yes, that's the name of the old 'ooman, i think, wot 'angs out in the cabin, right-'and stair, top floor, end of the passage, w'ere most wisiters flattens their noses, by consekince of there bein' no light, and a step close to the door which inwariably trips 'em up. most wisiters to that old 'ooman begins their acquaintance with her by knocking at her door with their noses instead of their knuckles. we calls her place the cabin, 'cause the windows is raither small, and over'angs the river." "well then, my lad," said the seaman, "clap a stopper on your tongue, if you can, and heave ahead." "all right, capp'n," returned the small boy, "foller me, an' don't be frightened. port your helm a bit here, there's a quicksand in the middle o' the track--so, steady!" avoiding a large pool of mud with which the head of the lane was garnished, and which might have been styled the bathing, not to say wallowing, quarters of the grubb's court juveniles, the small boy led the bluff seaman towards the river without further remark, diverging only once from the straight road for a few seconds, for the purpose of making a furious rush at a sleeping cat with a yell worthy of a cherokee savage, or a locomotive whistle; a slight pleasantry which had the double effect of shooting the cat through space in glaring convulsions, and filling the small boy's mind with the placidity which naturally follows a great success. the lane presented this peculiarity, that the warehouses on its left side became more and more solid and vast and tall as they neared the river, while the shops and dwellings on its right became poorer, meaner, and more diminutive in the same direction, as if there were some mysterious connection between them, which involved the adversity of the one in exact proportion to the prosperity of the other. children and cats appeared to be the chief day-population of the place, and these disported themselves among the wheels of enormous waggons, and the legs of elephantine horses with an impunity which could only have been the result of life-long experience. the seaman was evidently unaccustomed to such scenes, for more than once during the short period of his progress down the lane, he uttered an exclamation of alarm, and sprang to the rescue of those large babies which are supposed to have grown sufficiently old to become nursing mothers to smaller babies--acts which were viewed with a look of pity by the small boy, and called from him the encouraging observations, "keep your mind easy, capp'n; _they're_ all right, bless you; the hosses knows 'em, and wouldn't 'urt 'em on no account." "this is grubb's court," said the boy, turning sharply to the right and passing through a low archway. "thank 'ee, lad," said the seaman, giving him a sixpence. the small boy opened his eyes very wide indeed, exclaiming, "hallo! i say, capp'n, wot's this?" at the same time, however, putting the coin in his pocket with an air which plainly said, "whether you've made a mistake or not, you needn't expect to get it back again." evidently the seaman entertained no such expectations, for he turned away and became absorbed in the scene around him. it was not cheering. though the summer sun was high and powerful, it failed to touch the broken pavement of grubb's court, or to dry up the moisture which oozed from it and crept up the walls of the surrounding houses. everything was very old, very rotten, very crooked, and very dirty. the doorways round the court were wide open--always open--in some cases, because of there being no doors; in other cases, because the tenements to which they led belonged to a variety of families, largely composed of children who could not, even on tiptoe, reach or manipulate door-handles. nursing mothers of two feet high were numerous, staggering about with nurslings of a foot and a half long. a few of the nurslings, temporarily abandoned by the premature mothers, lay sprawling--in some cases squalling--on the moist pavement, getting over the ground like large snails, and leaving slimy tracks behind them. little boys, of the "city arab" type, were sprinkled here and there, and one or two old women sat on door-steps contemplating the scene, or conversing with one or two younger women. some of the latter were busy washing garments so dirty, that the dirty water of old father thames seemed quite a suitable purifier. "gillie," cried one of the younger women referred to, wiping the soap-suds from her red arms, "come here, you bad, naughty boy. w'ere 'ave you bin? i want you to mind baby." "w'y, mother," cried the small boy--who answered to the name of gillie--"don't you see i'm engaged? i'm a-showin' this 'ere sea-capp'n the course he's got to steer for port. he wants to make the cabin of old mother roby." "w'y don't you do it quickly, then?" demanded gillie's mother, "you bad, naughty, wicked boy. beg your parding, sir," she added, to the seaman, "the boy 'an't got no sense, besides bein' wicked and naughty--'e ain't 'ad no train', sir, that's w'ere it is, all along of my 'avin' too much to do, an' a large family, sir, with no 'usband to speak of; right up the stair, sir, to the top, and along the passage-door straight before you at the hend of it. mind the step, sir, w'en you gits up. go up with the gentleman, you bad, wicked, naughty boy, and show--" the remainder of the sentence became confused in distance, as the boy and the seaman climbed the stair; but a continuous murmuring sound, as of a vocal torrent, conveyed the assurance that the mother of gillie was still holding forth. "'ere it is," said the young pilot, pausing at the top of the staircase, near the entrance to a very dark passage. "keep 'er 'ead as she goes, but i'd recommend you to shorten sail, mind your 'elm, an 'ave the anchor ready to let go." having thus accommodated his language to the supposed intelligence of the seaman, the elfin youth stood listening with intense eagerness and expectation as the other went into the passage, and, by sundry kicks and bumps against wooden walls, gave evidence that he found the channel intricate. presently a terrible kick occurred. this was the seaman's toe against the step, of which he had been warned, but which he had totally forgotten; then a softer, but much heavier blow, was heard, accompanied by a savage growl--that was the seaman's nose and forehead against old mrs roby's portal. at this, gillie's expectations were realised, and his joy consummated. with mischievous glee sparkling in his eyes, he hastened down to the court to exhibit his sixpence to his mother, and to announce to all whom it might concern, that "the sea-capp'n had run his jib-boom slap through the old 'ooman's cabin-door." chapter two. the seaman takes the "cabin" by surprise and storm. without having done precisely what gillie had asserted of him, our seaman had in truth made his way into the presence of the little old woman who inhabited "the cabin," and stood there gazing round him as if lost in wonder; and well he might be, for the woman and cabin, besides being extremely old, were exceedingly curious, quaint, and small. the former was wrinkled to such an extent, that you could not have found a patch of smooth skin large enough for a pea to rest on. her teeth were all gone, back and front, and her nose, which was straight and well-formed, made almost successful attempts to meet a chin which had once been dimpled, but was now turned up. the mouth between them wore a benignant and a slightly humorous expression; the eyes, which were bright, black, and twinkling, seemed to have defied the ravages of time. her body was much bent as she sat in her chair, and a pair of crutches leaning against the chimney-piece suggested the idea that it would not be much straighter if she stood up. she was wrapped in a large, warm shawl, and wore a high cap, which fitted so close round her little visage, that hair, if any, was undistinguishable. the room in which she sat resembled the cabin of a ship in more respects than one. it was particularly low in the root so low that the seaman's hair touched it as he stood there looking round him; and across this roof ran a great beam, from which hung a variety of curious ornaments, such as a chinese lantern, a turkish scimitar, a new zealand club, an eastern shield, and the model of a full-rigged ship. elsewhere on the walls were, an ornamented dagger, a worsted-work sampler, a framed sheet of the flags of all nations, a sou'-wester cap and oiled coat, a telescope, and a small staring portrait of a sea-captain in his "go-to-meeting" clothes, which looked very much out of keeping with his staring sunburnt face, and were a bad fit. it might have been a good likeness, and was certainly the work of one who might have raised himself to the rank of a royal academician if he had possessed sufficient talent and who might have painted well if he had understood the principles of drawing and colour. the windows of the apartment, of which there were two very small square ones, looked out upon the river, and, to some extent overhung it, so that a man of sanguine temperament might have enjoyed fishing from them, if he could have been content to catch live rats and dead cats. the prospect from these windows was, however, the best of them, being a wide reach of the noble river, crowded with its stately craft, and cut up by its ever-bustling steamers. but the most noteworthy part of this room, or "cabin," was the space between the two windows immediately over the chimney-piece, which the eccentric old woman had covered with a large, and, in some cases, inappropriate assortment of objects, by way of ornament, each article being cleaned and polished to the highest possible condition of which it was susceptible. a group of five photographs of children--three girls and two boys, looking amazed-- formed the centrepiece of the design; around these were five other photographs of three young ladies and two young gentlemen, looking conscious, but pleased. the spaces between these, and every available space around them, were occupied by pot-lids of various sizes, old and battered, but shining like little suns; small looking-glasses, also of various sizes, some square and others round; little strings of beads; heads of meerschaums that had been much used in former days; pin-cushions, shell-baskets, one or two horse-shoes, and iron-heels of boots; several flat irons belonging to doll's houses, with a couple of dolls, much the worse for wear, mounting guard over them; besides a host of other nick-nacks, for which it were impossible to find names or imagine uses. everything--from the old woman's cap to the uncarpeted floor, and the little grate in which a little fire was making feeble efforts to warm a little tea-kettle with a defiant spout--was scrupulously neat, and fresh, and clean, very much the reverse of what one might have expected to find in connection with a poverty-stricken population, a dirty lane, a filthy court, a rickety stair, and a dark passage. possibly the cause might have been found in a large and much-worn family bible, which lay on a small table in company with a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles, at the old woman's elbow. on this scene the nautical man stood gazing, as we have said, with much interest; but he was too polite to gaze long. "your servant, missis," he said with a somewhat clumsy bow. "good morning, sir," said the little old woman, returning the bow with the air of one who had once seen better society than that of grubb's court. "your name is roby, i believe," continued the seaman, advancing, and looking so large in comparison with the little room that he seemed almost to fill it. the little old woman admitted that that was her name. "my name," said the seaman, "is wopper, tho' i'm oftener called skipper, also capp'n, by those who know me." mrs roby pointed to a chair and begged captain wopper to sit down, which he did after bestowing a somewhat pointed glance at the chair, as if to make sure that it could bear him. "you was a nuss once, i'm told," continued the seaman, looking steadily at mrs roby as he sat down. "i was," answered the old woman, glancing at the photographs over the chimney-piece, "in the same family for many years." "you'll excuse me, ma'am," continued the seaman, "if i appear something inquisitive, i want to make sure that i've boarded the right craft d'ee see--i mean, that you are the right 'ooman." a look of surprise, not unmingled with humour, beamed from mrs roby's twinkling black eyes as she gazed steadily in the seaman's face, but she made no other acknowledgment of his speech than a slight inclination of her head, which caused her tall cap to quiver. captain wopper, regarding this as a favourable sign, went on. "you was once, ma'am, i'm told, before bein' a nuss in the family of which you've made mention, a matron, or somethin' o' that sort, in a foundlin' hospital--in your young days, ma'am?" again mrs roby admitted the charge, and demanded to know, "what then?" "ah, jus' so--that's what i'm comin' to," said captain wopper, drawing his large hand over his beard. "you was present in that hospital, ma'am, was you not, one dark november morning, when a porter-cask was left at the door by some person unknown, who cut his cable and cleared off before the door was opened,--which cask, havin' on its head two x's, and bein' labelled, `this side up, with care,' contained two healthy little babby boys?" mrs roby, becoming suddenly grave and interested, again said, "i was." "jus' so," continued the captain, "you seem to be the right craft--'ooman, i mean--that i'm in search of. these two boys, who were supposed to be brothers, because of their each havin' a brown mole of exactly the same size and shape on their left arms, just below their elbows, were named `stout,' after the thing in which they was headed up, the one bein' christened james, the other willum?" "yes, yes," replied the little old woman eagerly, "and a sweet lovely pair they was when the head of that barrel was took off, lookin' out of the straw in which they was packed like two little cheruphims, though they did smell strong of the double x, and was a little elevated because of the fumes that 'ung about the wood. but how do you come to know all this, sir, and why do you ask?" "excuse me, ma'am," replied the sailor with a smile, which curled up his huge moustache expressively,--"you shall know presently, but i must make quite sure that i'm aboard of--that is to say, that you _are_ the right 'ooman. may i ask, ma'am, what became of these two cheruphims, as you've very properly named 'em?" "certainly," answered mrs roby, "the elder boy--we considered him the elder, because he was the first took out of the barrel--was a stoodious lad, and clever. he got into a railway company, i believe, and became a rich man--married a lady, i'm told,--and changed his name to stoutley, so 'tis said, not thinkin' his right name suitable to his circumstances, which, to say truth, it wasn't, because he was very thin. i've heard it said that his family was extravagant, and that he went to california to seek his brother, and look after some property, and died there, but i'm not rightly sure, for he was a close boy, and latterly i lost all knowledge of him and his family." "and the other cheruphim, willum," said the sailor, "what of him?" "ah!" exclaimed mrs roby, a flush suffusing her wrinkled countenance, while her black eyes twinkled more than usual, "he was a jewel, _he_ was. they said in the hospital that he was a wild good-for-nothing boy, but _i_ never thought him so. he was always fond of me--very fond of me, and i of him. it is true he could never settle to anythink, and at last ran away to sea, when about twelve year old; but he didn't remain long at that either, for when he got to california, he left his ship, and was not heard of for a long time after that. i thought he was dead or drowned, but at last i got a letter from him, enclosing money, an' saying he had been up at the noo gold-diggings, an' had been lucky, dear boy, and he wanted to share his luck with me, an would never, never, forget me; but he didn't need to send me money to prove that. he has continued to send me a little every year since then;--ah! it's many, many years now,--ay, ay, many years." she sighed, and looked wistfully at the spark of fire in the grate that was making ineffectual attempts to boil the little tea-kettle with the defiant spout; "but why," she continued, looking up suddenly, "why do you ask about him?" "because i knew him," replied captain wopper, searching for something which appeared to be lost in the depths of one of his capacious pockets. "willum stout was a chum of mine. we worked together at the californy gold-mines for many a year as partners, and, when at last we'd made what we thought enough, we gave it up an' came down to san francisco together, an' set up a hotel, under the name of the `jolly tars,' by stout and company. i was the company, ma'am; an', for the matter o' that i may say i was the stout too, for both of us answered to the stout or the company, accordin' as we was addressed, d'ee see? when company thought he'd made enough money to entitle him to a holiday, he came home, as you see; but before leavin', willum said to him, `company, my lad, w'en you get home, you'll go and see that old 'oom of the name of roby, whom i've often told you about. she lives in lunun, somewheres down by the river in a place called grubb's court. she was very good to me, that old 'oom was, when she was young, as i've told you before. you go an' give her my blessin'--willum's blessin'--and this here bag and that there letter.' `yes,' says i, `willum, i'll do it, my boy, as soon as ever i set futt on british soil.' i did set futt on british soil this morning, and there's the letter; also the bag; so, you see, old lady, i've kep' my promise." captain wopper concluded by placing a small but heavy canvas bag, and a much-soiled letter, in mrs roby's lap. to say that the little old woman seized the letter with eager delight, would convey but a faint idea of her feelings as she opened it with trembling hands, and read it with her bright black eyes. she read it half aloud, mingled with commentary, as she proceeded, and once or twice came to a pause over an illegible word, on which occasions her visitor helped her to the word without looking at the letter. this circumstance struck her at last as somewhat singular, for she looked up suddenly, and said, "you appear, sir, to be familiar with the contents of my letter." "that's true, ma'am," replied captain wopper, who had been regarding the old woman with a benignant smile; "willum read it to me before i left, a-purpose to enable me to translate the ill-made pot-hooks and hangers, because, d'ee see, we were more used to handlin' the pick and shovel out there than the pen, an' willum used to say he never was much of a dab at a letter. he never wrote you very long ones, ma'am, i believe?" mrs roby looked at the fire pensively, and said, in a low voice, as if to herself rather than her visitor, "no, they were not long--never very long--but always kind and sweet to me--very sweet--ay, ay, it's a long, long time now, a long time, since he came to me here and asked for a night's lodging." "did you give it him, ma'am?" asked the captain. "give it him!" exclaimed mrs roby, with sudden energy, "of course i did. the poor boy was nigh starving. how could i refuse him? it is true i had not much to give, for the family i was with as nuss had failed and left me in great distress, through my savings bein' in their hands; and that's what brought me to this little room long, long ago--ay, ay. but no blame to the family, sir, no blame at all. they couldn't help failin', an' the young ones, when they grew up, did not forget their old nuss, though they ain't rich, far from it; and it's what they give me that enables me to pay my rent and stay on here--god bless 'em." she looked affectionately at the daguerreotypes which hung, in the midst of the sheen and glory of pot-lids, beads, and looking-glasses, above the chimney-piece. "you gave him, meanin' willum, nothing else, i suppose?" asked the captain, with a knowing look; "such, for instance, as a noo suit of clothes, because of his bein' so uncommon ragged that he looked as if he had bin captured in a clumsy sort of net that it would not have been difficult to break through and escape from naked; also a few shillin's, bein' your last, to pay his way down to gravesend, where the ship was lyin', that you had, through interest with the owners, got him a berth aboard?" "ah!" returned mrs roby, shaking her head and smiling gently, "i see that william has told you all about it." "he has, ma'am," replied captain wopper, with a decisive nod. "you see, out in the gold-fields of californy, we had long nights together in our tent, with nothin' to do but smoke our pipes, eat our grub, and spin yarns, for we had no books nor papers, nothin' to read except a noo testament, and we wouldn't have had even that, ma'am, but for yourself. it was the testament you gave to willum at partin', an' very fond of it he was, bein' your gift. you see, at the time we went to californy, there warn't many of us as cared for the word of god. most of us was idolaters that had run away from home, our chief gods--for we had many of 'em--bein' named adventure, excitement and gold; though there was some noble exceptions, too. but, as i was saying, we had so much time on our hands that we recalled all our past adventures together over and over again, and, you may be sure, ma'am, that your name and kindness was not forgotten. there was another name," continued captain wopper, drawing his chair nearer the fire, crossing his legs and stroking his beard as he looked up at the dingy ceiling, "that willum often thought about and spoke of. it was the name of a gentleman, a clerk in the customs, i believe, who saved his life one day when he fell into the river just below the bridge." "mr lawrence," said the old woman, promptly. "ah! mr lawrence; yes, that's the name," continued the captain. "willum was very grateful to him, and bid me try to find him out and tell him so. is he alive?" "dead," said mrs roby, shaking her head sadly. the seaman appeared much concerned on hearing this. for some time he did not speak, and then said that he had been greatly interested in that gentleman through willum's account of him. "had he left any children?" "yes," mrs roby told him; "one son, who had been educated as a doctor, and had become a sort of a city missionary, and was as pleasant a young gentleman as she ever knew." "so, then, you know him?" said the captain. "know him! i should think so. why, this is the district where he visits, and a kind friend he is to the poor, though he _is_ bashful a bit, an' seems to shrink from pushin' himself where he's not wanted." "not the less a friend to the poor on that account," thought captain wopper; but he said nothing, and mrs roby went on:-- "you see, his father before him did a great deal for the poor in a quiet way here, as i have reason to know, this district lying near his office, and handy, as it were. long after the time when he saved willum's life, he married a sweet young creeter, who helped him in visitin' the poor, but she caught fever among 'em and died, when their only son george was about ten year old. george had been goin' about with his mother on her visits, and seemed very fond of her and of the people, dear child; and after she died, he used to continue coming with his father. then he went to school and college and became a young doctor, and only last year he came back to us, so changed for the better that none of us would have known him but for his kindly voice and fine manly-looking manner. his shyness, too, has stuck to him a little, but it does not seem to hinder him now as it once did. ah!" continued mrs roby, in a sympathetic tone, "it's a great misfortune to be shy." she looked pensively at the little fire and shook her tall cap at it, as if it or the defiant tea-kettle were answerable for something in reference to shyness. "yes, it's a great misfortune to be shy," she repeated. "were you ever troubled with that complaint, captain wopper?" the captain's moustache curled at the corners as he stroked his beard, and said that really, on consideration, he was free to confess that he never had been convicted of that sin. mrs roby bestowed on him a look of admiration, and continued, "well, as i have said--" she was interrupted at this point by the entrance of an active little girl, with the dirtiest face and sweetest expression imaginable, with garments excessively ragged, blue eyes that sparkled as they looked at you, a mouth that seemed made for kissing, if only it had been clean, and golden hair that would have fallen in clustering curls on her neck, if it had not been allowed to twist itself into something like a yellow door-mat which rendered a bonnet unnecessary. bestowing a glance of surprise on the seaman, but without uttering a word, she went smartly to a corner and drew into the middle of the room a round table with one leg and three feet, whose accommodating top having been previously flat against the wall, fell down horizontal and fixed itself with a snap. on this the earnest little woman, quickly and neatly, spread a fairish linen cloth, and proceeded to arrange thereon a small tea-pot and cup and saucer, with other materials, for an early tea. "two cups, netta, my dear," said mrs roby. "yes, grannie," replied netta, in a soft quick, little voice. "your grandchild?" asked the captain. "no; a neighbour's child, who is very kind to me. she calls me grannie, because i like it. but, as i was saying," continued mrs roby, "young dr lawrence came back last year and began to visit us in the old way, intending to continue, he said, until he got a situation of some sort in the colonies, i believe; but i do hope he'll not be obliged to leave us, for he has bin a great blessin' to this neighbourhood, only he gets little pay for his work, i fear, and appears to have little of his own to live on, poor young man.--now, captain wopper, you'll stop and have a cup of tea with me. i take it early, you see,--in truth, i make a sort of dinner of it,--and we can have a talk about william over it. i'm proud to have a friend of his at my table, sir, i do assure you, though it _is_ a poor one." captain wopper accepted the invitation heartily, and thought, though he said nothing, that it was indeed a poor table, seeing that the only food on it besides the very weak tea in the wonderfully small pot, consisted of one small loaf of bread. "netta," exclaimed mrs roby, with a look of surprise, "there's no butter! go, fetch it, dear." mrs roby was, or thought herself, a remarkably deep character. she spoke to netta openly, but, in secret, bestowed a meaning glance on her, and slipped a small coin into her hand. the dirty, sweet-faced damsel replied by a remarkably knowing wink--all of which by-play, with the reason for it, was as clear to captain wopper as if it had been elaborately explained to him. but the captain was a discreet man. he became deeply absorbed in daguerreotypes and sauce-pan lids above the fireplace, to the exclusion of all else. "you've forgotten the bag, ma'am," said the captain, drawing his chair nearer the table. "so i have; dear me, what is it?" cried mrs roby, taking it up. "it's heavy." "gold!" said the captain. "gold?" exclaimed the old nurse. "ay, nuggets," said the seaman, opening it and emptying its contents on the table. as the old nurse gazed on the yellow heap her black eyes glittered with pleasure, as though they had derived additional lustre from the precious metal, and she drew them towards her with a trembling, almost greedy, motion, at sight of which captain wopper's countenance became troubled. "and did willie send this to me, dear boy?" "he did, ma'am, hoping that it would be of use in the way of making your home more comfortable, and enabling you to keep a better table." he glanced uneasily round the poor room and at the small loaf as he spoke, and the old woman observed the glance. "it is very kind of him, very kind," continued mrs roby. "what may it be worth, now?" "forty pounds, more or less," answered the captain. again the old woman's eyes sparkled greedily, and again the seaman's countenance fell. "surely, ma'am," said the captain, gravely, "things must be uncommon dear in london, for you tell me that willum has sent you a deal of money in time past, but you don't seem to be much the better for it." "captain wopper," said mrs roby, putting her hand lightly on the captain's arm as it lay on the table, and looking earnestly into his face, "if you had not been an old and valued friend of my dear willie-- which i learn that you are from his letter--i would have said your remark was a rude one; but, being what you are, i don't mind telling you that i save up every penny i can scrape together for little netta white, the girl that has just gone out to fetch the butter. although she's not well cared for,--owing to her mother, who's a washerwoman, bein' overburdened with work and a drunken husband,--she's one of the dearest creeters i ever did see. bless you, sir, you'd be amazed if you knew all the kind and thoughtful things that untrained and uncared for child does, and never thinks she's doing anything more than other people. it's all along of her mother's spirit, which is as good as gold. some months ago little netta happened to be up here when i was at tea, and, seeing the difficulty i had to move about with my old rheumatic limbs, she said she'd come and set out my tea and breakfast for me; and she's done it, sir, from that time to this, expecting nothing fur it, and thinking i'm too poor to give her anything. but she's mistaken," continued mrs roby, with a triumphant twinkle in her black eyes, "she doesn't know that i've made a confidant of her brother gillie, and give him a sixpence now and then to give to his mother without telling where he got it, and she doesn't know that i'm saving up to be able to leave something to her when i'm called home--it can't be long, now; it can't be long." "old 'ooman," cried captain wopper, whose face had brightened wonderfully during this explanation, "give us your flip--your hand. i honour your heart, ma'am, and i've no respect whatever for your brain!" "i'm not sure that that's a compliment," said mrs roby, with a smile. captain wopper assured her with much solemnity that it might or might not be a compliment, but it was a fact. "why, look here," said he, "you go and starve yourself, and deny yourself all sorts of little comforts-- what then? why, you'll die long before your time, which is very like taking the law into your own hands, ma'am, and then you won't leave to netta nearly as much as you might if you had taken care of yourself and lived longer, and saved up after a reasonable fashion. it's sheer madness. why, ma'am, you're starving _now_, but i'll put a stop to that. don't you mind, now, whether i'm rude or not. you can't expect anything else from an old gold-digger, who has lived for years where there were no women except such as appeared to be made of mahogany, with nothing to cover 'em but a coating of dirt and a blue skirt. besides, willum told me at parting to look after you and see that you wanted for nothing, which i promised faithfully to do. you've some regard for willum's wishes, ma'am?--you wouldn't have me break my promises to willum, would you?" the captain said this with immense rapidity and vigour, and finished it with such a blow of his heavy fist on the little table that the cups and plates danced, and the lid of the little tea-pot leaped up as if its heart were about to come out of its mouth. mrs roby was so taken by surprise that she could not speak for a few seconds, and before she had recovered sufficiently to do so, little netta came in with the butter. "now, ma'am," resumed the captain, when the girl had retired, "here's where it is. with your leave i'll reveal my plans to you, and ask your advice. when i was about to leave californy, willum told me first of all to go and find _you_ out, and give you that letter and bag of nuggets, which i've done. `then,' says he, `wopper, you go and find out my brother jim's widow, and give 'em my love an' dooty, and this letter, and this bag of nuggets,'--said letter and bag, ma'am, bein' now in my chest aboard ship. `so,' says i, `willum, i will--trust me.' `i do,' says he; `and, wopper,' says he, `keep your weather eye open, my boy, w'en you go to see 'em, because i've my suspicions, from what my poor brother said on his deathbed, when he was wandering in his mind, that his widow is extravagant. i don't know,' willum goes on to say, `what the son may be, but there's that cousin, emma gray, that lives in the house with 'em, _she's_ all right. _she's_ corresponded with me, off an' on, since ever she could write, and my brother bein' something lazy, poor fellar, through havin' too much to do i fancy, got to throw all the letter-writin' on her shoulders. you take special note of _her_, wopper, and if it should seem to you that they don't treat her well, you let me know.' `willum,' says i, `i will--trust me.' `well, then,' says willum, `there's one other individooal i want you to ferret out, that's the gentleman--he must be an old gentleman now--that saved my life when i was a lad, mr lawrence by name. you try to find _him_ out and if you can do him a good turn, do it.' `willum,' says i, `i'll do it--trust me.' `i do,' says he, `and when may i expect you back in californy, wopper?' `willum,' says i, `that depends.' `true,' says he, `it does. give us you're flipper, old boy, we may never meet again in these terrestrial diggings. good luck to you. don't forget my last will an' testimony as now expressed.' `willum,' says i, `i won't.' so, ma'am, i left californy with a sacred trust, so to speak, crossed the sea, and here i am." at this point captain wopper, having warmed in his subject, took in at one bite as much of the small loaf as would have been rather a heavy dinner for mrs roby, and emptied at one gulp a full cup of her tea, after which he stroked his beard, smiled benignantly at his hostess, became suddenly earnest again, and went on--chewing as he spoke. "now, ma'am, i've three questions to ask: in the first place, as it's not possible now to do a good turn to old mr lawrence, i must do it to his son. can you tell me where he lives?" mrs roby told him that it was in a street not far from where they sat, in a rather poor lodging. "secondly, ma'am, can you tell me where willum's sister-in-law lives,-- mrs stout, _alias_ stoutley?" "no, captain wopper, but i daresay mr lawrence can. he knows 'most everythink, and has a london directory." "good. now, in the third place, where am i to find a lodging?" mrs roby replied that there were plenty to be found in london of all kinds. "you haven't a spare room here, have you?" said the captain, looking round. mrs roby shook her head and said that she had not; and, besides, that if she had, it would be impossible for her to keep a lodger, as she had no servant, and could not attend on him herself. "mrs roby," said the captain, "a gold-digging seaman don't want no servant, nor no attendance. what's up aloft?" by pointing to a small trap-door in the ceiling, he rendered the question intelligible. "it's a garret, i believe," replied mrs roby, smiling; "but having no ladder, i've never been up." "you've no objection to my taking a look, have you?" asked the captain. "none in the world," replied the old woman. without more ado the seaman rose, mounted on a chair, pushed open the trap-door, thrust his head and shoulders through, and looked round. apparently the inspection was not deemed sufficiently close, for, to the old woman's alarm and inexpressible surprise, he seized the edges of the hole with his strong hands, raised himself up, and finally disappeared in the regions above! the alarm of the old woman was somewhat increased by the sound of her visitor's heavy tread on the boards overhead as he stumbled about. presently his head appeared looking down through the trap. in any aspect, captain wopper's shaggy head was an impressive one; but viewed in an upside-down position, with the blood running into it, it was peculiarly striking. "i say, old lady," he shouted, as if his position recalled the action and induced the tones of a boatswain, "it'll do. a capital berth, with two portholes and a bunk." the captain's head disappeared, and immediately his legs took its place, suggesting the outrageous idea that he had thrown a somersault. next moment his huge body slid down, and he stood on the floor much flushed and covered with dust. "now, old girl, is it to be?" he said, sitting down at the table. "will you take me as a lodger, for better and for worse? i'll fit up the berth on the main-deck, and be my own servant as well as your's. say the word." "i can refuse nothing to willie's friend," said old mrs roby, "but really i--" "done, it's a bargain," interrupted the captain, rising abruptly. "now, i'll go visit young mr lawrence and mrs stoutley, and to-morrow i'll bring my kit, take possession of my berth, and you and i shall sail in company, i hope, and be messmates for some time to come." chapter three. difficulties among the social summits. in one of the many mansions of the "west end" of london, a lady reclined one morning on a sofa wishing that it were afternoon. she was a middle-aged, handsome, sickly lady. if it had been afternoon she would have wished that it were evening, and if it had been evening she would have wished for the morning; for mrs stoutley was one of those languid invalids whose enjoyment appears to be altogether in the future or the past, and who seem to have no particular duties connected with the present except sighing and wishing. it may be that this unfortunate condition of mind had something to do with mrs stoutley's feeble state of health. if she had been a little more thoughtful about others, and less mindful of herself, she might, perhaps, have sighed and wished less, and enjoyed herself more. at all events her doctor seemed to entertain some such opinion, for, sitting in an easy chair beside her, and looking earnestly at her handsome, worn-out countenance, he said, somewhat abruptly, being a blunt doctor. "you must go abroad, madam, and try to get your mind, as well as your body, well shaken up." "why, doctor," replied mrs stoutley, with a faint smile; "you talk of me as if i were a bottle of physic or flat ginger-beer." "you are little better, silly woman," thought the doctor, but his innate sense of propriety induced him only to say, with a smile, "well, there is at least this much resemblance between you and a bottle of flat ginger-beer, namely, that both require to be made to effervesce a little. it will never do to let your spirits down as you have been doing. we must brighten up, my dear madam--not brighton up, by the way, we've had enough of brighton and bath, and such places. we must get away to the continent this summer--to the pyrenees, or switzerland, where we can breathe the fresh mountain air, and ramble on glaciers, and have a thorough change." mrs stoutley looked gently, almost pitifully at the doctor while he spoke, as if she thought him a well-meaning and impulsive, but rather stupid maniac. "impossible, my dear doctor," she said; "you know i could not stand the fatigues of such a journey." "well, then," replied the doctor, abruptly, "you must stop at home and die." "oh! what a shocking naughty man you are to talk so." mrs stoutley said this, however, with an easy good-natured air, which showed plainly that she did not believe her illness likely to have such a serious termination. "i will be still more naughty and shocking," continued the doctor, resolutely, but with a twinkle in his eyes, "for i shall prescribe not only a dose of mountain air, but a dose of mountain exercise, to be taken--and the patient to be well shaken while taken--every morning throughout the summer and autumn. moreover, after you return to england, you must continue the exercise during the winter; and, in addition to that, must have an object at the end of your walks and drives--not shopping, observe, that is not a sufficiently out-of-door object; nor visiting your friends, which is open to the same objection." mrs stoutley smiled again at this, and said that really, if visiting and shopping were forbidden, there seemed to be nothing left but museums and picture-galleries. to this the doctor retorted that although she might do worse than visit museums and picture-galleries, he would prefer that she should visit the diamond and gold fields of the city. "did you ever hear of the diamond and gold fields of london, miss gray?" he said, turning to a plain yet pretty girl, who had been listening in silence to the foregoing conversation. "never," answered miss gray, with a look of surprise. now, miss gray's look of surprise induces us to state in passing that this young lady--niece, also poor relation and companion, to mrs stoutley--possessed three distinct aspects. when grave, she was plain,--not ugly, observe; a girl of nineteen, with a clear healthy complexion and nut-brown hair, cannot in any circumstances be ugly; no, she was merely plain when grave. when she smiled she was decidedly pretty, and when she laughed she was captivating--absolutely irresistible! she seldom laughed, occasionally smiled, and was generally grave. there was something quite incomprehensible about her, for she was not an unusually good girl, and by no means a dashing girl, neither was she an intensely modest girl--and yet, plain emma gray had perhaps driven more young men into a condition of drivelling imbecility than any acknowledged beauty of the metropolis. observe, we say "perhaps," because we lay claim to no superhuman knowledge in regard to such matters. "they are rather extensive fields," continued the doctor, "scattered here and there about the metropolis, but lying chiefly in the city and on the banks of the thames. they comprise many picture-galleries, too, and museums; the latter containing wonderful specimens of old bones and fossil remains, filth, and miscellaneous abominations, in which the gold and diamonds are imbedded--sometimes buried,--and the former being hung with subjects--chiefly interiors--incomparably superior, in respect of graphic power, to the works of hogarth." "oh! i know what you mean," said miss gray, with a little smile. "your wits are sharper than mine, emma," said mrs stoutley, with a sigh and a placid look. "what _do_ you refer to, doctor tough?" "i refer to those districts, madam, chiefly inhabited by the poor, where there are innumerable diamonds and gold nuggets, some of which are being polished, and a good many are glittering brightly, though not yet fixed in their proper setting, while by far the greater number of them are down in the earth, and useless in the meantime, and apt to be lost for want of adventurous diggers. they are splendid fields those of london, and digging is healthful occupation--though it might not seem so at first sight. did you ever visit the poor, mrs stoutley?" with a slight elevation of her eyebrows, and the application of a scent-bottle to her delicate nose, as if the question had suggested bad smells, the lady said that--well, yes, she had once visited a poor old gardener who had been a faithful creature in the family of a former friend, but that her recollection of that visit did not tend to induce a wish for its repetition. "h'm!" coughed the doctor, "well, the taste of physic is usually bad at first, but one soon gets used to it, and the after effects, as you know, are exceedingly beneficial. i hope that when you visit the london diggings you may find the truth of this; but it will be time enough to speak of that subject when you return from rambling on the glaciers of switzerland, where, by the way, the dirt, rubbish, and wrack, called moraines, which lie at the foot of the glaciers, will serve to remind you of the gold-fields to which i have referred, for much of what composes those moraines was once solid rock in a fixed position on the heights, or glittering ice which reflected the sun's dazzling rays on surrounding high life, though it lies low in the earth now. to a lady of your intelligence, madam, i need not expound my parable. there are many avalanches, great and small, in english society as well as among the swiss mountains; and, whether by gradual subsidence or a tremendous rush, we must all find our places in the moraine at last." "really, doctor," said mrs stoutley, with a light laugh, "you seem to have already wandered much among these moral moraines, and to have acquired some of their ruggedness. how _can_ you talk of such dismal things to a patient? but are you really in earnest about my going abroad?" "indeed i am," replied the doctor, firmly, "and i advise you to begin your preparations at once, for you must set out on your travels in less than a month. i lay the responsibility of seeing my orders carried into effect on your shoulders, miss gray." so saying, the doctor rose and took his leave. mrs stoutley and her niece immediately began to discuss the subject of switzerland--the one languidly, the other with animation. it was plain enough that, although the invalid protested to the doctor her inability to travel, she really had no objection, perhaps felt some desire, to go abroad, for when miss gray mentioned the fact that there was a difficulty in the shape of insufficient funds, she replied with more warmth than usual-- "now, emma, what is the use of always bringing up that ridiculous idea?" "no doubt, auntie," the maiden replied, "it is a little ridiculous to run short of ready money, considering the style in which we live; but it would be still more ridiculous, you know, to go to switzerland without the means of paying our expenses while there." "what's that you say about expenses, cousin?" exclaimed a tall handsome stripling who entered at the moment, and seated himself on the sofa at his mother's feet. "oh, bother the expense!" he exclaimed, when the difficulty had been explained to him, "it can't cost so much to spend a few months in switzerland,--besides, we can do it cheap, you know. didn't mr what's-his-name, our man of business, say that there was a considerable balance at the banker's, and that if the what-d'ee-call-'em mines paid a reasonable dividend, we should easily get over our difficulties?" "he said something of that sort, i believe," replied mrs stoutley, with a sigh. "i rather think, cousin lewis," said emma, endeavouring to repress a smile, "that he said there was an inconsiderable balance at the bankers, and that _unless_ the gorong mine paid a reasonable dividend, we shouldn't easily get over our difficulties." both lewis and his mother laughed at the quiet way in which this was said, but, while both admitted that emma's view of the matter might perhaps be correct, lewis held that there was no good reason for supposing there would be any difficulty in the meantime in obtaining from their "man-of-business" the paltry sum that was required for a short tour on the continent. indeed mrs stoutley regarded this man-of-business as a mere sponge, who required only to be squeezed in order to the production of what was desired, and the man-of-business himself found it no easy matter to convince her that she held erroneous views on this subject, and that at her present rate of progress, she would, to use the doctor's glacial simile, very soon topple from the pinnacle of fashion, on which she sat, and fall with the crash of a social avalanche into the moraine of ruin. "what a wise little woman you are, cousin emma," said lewis, gaily. "you ought to have been bred to the law, or trained an accountant. however, we won't be guided by your advice just now, first, because the doctor has _ordered_ mother abroad for her health, which is our chief consideration; and, second, because i wish of all things to see switzerland, and climb mont blanc. besides, we are not so poor as you think, and i hope to add a little to our general funds in a day or two. by the way, can you lend me ten pounds just now, mother?" "why do you want it?" asked mrs stoutley, sternly, as if she meant to refuse, but at the same time opening her purse. "don't ask me just now. i will repay you tomorrow, with interest and shall then explain." with an easy, languid smile, the carelessly amiable invalid handed her last ten-pound note to her hopeful son, who had just transferred it to his pocketbook, when a footman entered and presented a scrap of dirty paper, informing his lady that the person who sent up the "card" desired to see her. "what is this?" said mrs stoutley, holding the paper gingerly with the tips of her fingers, "wip--wap--wopper! what is wopper? is the person a man or a woman?" the footman, who, although well-bred, found it difficult to restrain a smile, intimated that the person was a man, and added, that he said he had come from california, and wanted to see mrs stoutley very particularly. on hearing this, the lady's manner changed at once, and, with more animation than she had yet exhibited, she desired that he should be shown in. with his large wide-awake in one hand, and a canvas bag in the other, captain wopper entered the drawing-room, and looked around him with a beaming and rather bashful smile. "mrs stoutley, i believe," he said, advancing, "and miss emma gray, i suppose," he added, turning with a beaming glance towards the young lady. mrs stoutley admitted that he was right, and expressed some surprise that he, a perfect stranger, should be so well acquainted with their names. "i am indeed a stranger personally, ma'am," said captain wopper, smoothing the hair down on his rugged brow, "but i may be said to know you pretty well, seeing that i have for many years been the friend and messmate of your late husband's brother in californy." "indeed!" exclaimed mrs stoutley, with increasing animation, as she rose and held out her hand; "any friend of my brother-in-law is heartily welcome. be seated, mr wopper, and let me hear about him. he was very kind to my dear husband during his last illness--very kind. i shall never forget him." "no doubt he was," said the captain, accepting the chair which emma gray handed to him, with looks of great interest. "thank 'ee, miss. willum stout--excuse my familiarity, ma'am, i always called him willum, because we was like brothers--more than brothers, i may say, an' very friendly. yes, willum stout _was_ kind to his brother in his last days. it would have bin shame to him if he hadn't for your husband, ma'am, was kind to willum, an' he often said to me, over the camp-fires in the bush, that he'd never forget _his_ kindness. but it's over now," continued the seaman in a sad tone, "an' poor willum is left alone." "is my uncle _very_ poor?" asked lewis, who had been paying more attention to the appearance of their rugged visitor than to what he had said. "ay, _very_ poor," replied the seaman, "as regards near relations, leastwise such as he has seen and known in former days, but he an't poor as regards gold. he's got lots of that. he and i worked not far from each other for years, an' he used to hit upon good claims somehow, and shovelled up the nuggets like stones." "indeed! i wish he'd send a few of them this way," exclaimed lewis, with a careless laugh. "no doubt he might do so, young man, if he knew you were in need of 'em, but your father gave him to understand that his family was rich." "rich!" exclaimed lewis, with a smile, in which there was a touch of contempt. "well, yes, we were rich enough once, but when my father was away these wretched mines became--" "lewie!" exclaimed his mother, hastily, "what nonsense you do talk! really, one would think from your account that we were paupers." "well, mother, so we are--paupers to this extent at least, that we can't afford to take a run to switzerland, though ordered to do so for your health, because we lack funds." lewis said this half petulantly, for he had been a "spoilt child," and might probably have been by that time a ruined young man, but for the mercy of his creator, who had blessed him with an amiable disposition. he was one of those youths, in short, of whom people say that they can't be spoiled, though fond and foolish parents do their best to spoil them. "you mis-state the case, naughty boy," said mrs stoutley, annoyed at being thus forced to touch on her private affairs before a stranger. "no doubt our ready cash is what our man-of-business calls `locked up,' but that, you know, is only a matter of temporary inconvenience, and cannot last long." as mrs stoutley paused and hesitated, their visitor placed on the table a canvas bag, which, up to this point he had rested on one knee. "this bag," he said, "of nuggets, is a gift from willum. he desired me to deliver it to you, miss gray, as a _small_ acknowledgment of your kindness in writin' so often to him. he'd have bought you a silk gown, or a noo bonnet, so he said, but wasn't sure as to your taste in such matters, and thought you'd accept the nuggets and buy it for yourself. leastwise, that's somethin' like the speech willum tried to tell me to deliver, but he warn't good at speech-makin' no more than i at remembrin', and hoped you'd take the will for the deed." with a flush of surprise and pleasure, emma gray accepted both the will and the deed, with many expressions of gratitude, and said, that as she did not require either a silk dress or a bonnet just then, she would invest her little fortune; she would lend it at high interest, to a lady under temporary inconvenience, who was ordered by her doctor to switzerland for the benefit of her health. to this mrs stoutley protested very earnestly that the lady in question would not accept the loan on any consideration; that it must not be diverted from its destined use, but be honestly expended on silk-dresses and new bonnets. to which emma replied, that the destiny of the gift, with interest (she was very particular on that head), should be fulfilled in good time, but that meanwhile it must be lent out. in the midst of a cross-fire of this kind the bag was opened, and its contents poured on the table, to the immense admiration of all the company, none of whom had, until that day, beheld gold in its native condition. "how much may it be worth, mr wopper?" asked lewis, weighing one of the largest lumps. "about two hundred pound, i should say, more or less," replied the seaman. "indeed!" exclaimed the youth in surprise--an exclamation which was echoed by his mother and cousin in modified tones. while they sat thus toying with the lumps of gold, the conversation reverted to the sender of it, and the captain told such entertaining anecdotes of bush life, in all of which "uncle willum" had been an actor, that the afternoon arrived before mrs stoutley had time to wish for it. they also talked of the last illness of the deceased father of the family; and when it came out that captain (they had found out by that time that their visitor had been a skipper, and, by courtesy, a captain), had assisted "willum" in nursing mr stoutley, and had followed him to the grave, mrs stoutley's gratitude was such that she insisted on her visitor staying to dinner. "thank 'ee, ma'am," he said, "i've dined. i always dines at one o'clock if i can manage it." "but we don't dine till eight," said the lady, "so it will just suit for your supper." "do come," said emma gray, "we shall be quite alone, and shall have a great spinning of yarns over uncle william and the gold-fields." "well, i don't mind if i do," said the captain, "but before supper i must go to the docks for my kit and settle my lodgings." "i am going to the strand, and shall be happy to give you a lift," said lewis. the captain accepted the offer, and as they drove along, he and his young friend became very intimate, insomuch that lewis, who was lighthearted, open, and reckless, let him into his confidence, and spoke quite freely about his mother's difficulties. it is only justice to add that the captain did not encourage him in this. when, however, the youth spoke of himself, he not only encouraged him, but drew him out. among other things, he drew out of him the fact that he was in the habit of gambling, and that he fully expected--if his usual luck attended him--to assist in adding to the fund which was to take the family abroad. the captain looked at the handsome stripling for a few seconds in silent surprise. "you don't mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you gamble?" "indeed i do," replied lewis, with a bland smile, and something of a twinkle in his eye. "for money?" asked the captain. "for money," assented the youth; "what have you to say against it?" "why, i've to say that it's mean." "that's strong language," said lewis, flushing. "it an't strong enough by a long way," returned the captain, with indignation, "it's more than mean, it's contemptible; it's despicable." the flush on lewis's face deepened, and he looked at his companion with the air of one who meditates knocking another down. perhaps the massive size and strength of the captain induced him to change his mind. it may be that there occurred to him the difficulty--if not impossibility--of knocking down a man who was down already, and the want of space in a cab for such violent play of muscle. at all events he did nothing, but looked "daggers." "look 'ee here, my lad," continued the captain, laying his huge hand on his companion's knee, and gazing earnestly into his face, "i don't mean for to hurt your feelin's by sayin' that _you_ are mean, or contemptible, or despicable, for i don't suppose you've thought much about the matter at all, and are just following in the wake of older men who ought to know better; but i say that the _thing_--gambling for money--is the meanest thing a man can do, short of stealing. what does it amount to? simply this--i want another man's money, and the other man wants mine. we daren't try open robbery, we would be ashamed of that; we're both too lazy to labour for money, and labour doesn't bring it in fast enough, therefore we'll go _play_ for it. i'll ask him to submit to be robbed by me on condition that i submit to be robbed by him; and which is to be the robbed, and which the robber, shall depend on the accidental turn of a dice, or something equally trifling--" "but i don't gamble by means of dice," interrupted lewis, "i play, and bet, on billiards, which is a game of skill, requiring much practice, judgment, and thought." "that makes no odds, my lad," continued the captain. "there is no connection whatever between the rolling of a ball and the taking away of a man's money, any more than there is between the turning of a dice and the taking of a man's money. both are dishonourable subterfuges. they are mere blinds put up to cover the great and mean fact, which is, that i want to get possession of my neighbour's cash." "but, captain," retorted lewis, with a smile--for he had now entered into the spirit of the argument--"you ignore the fact that while i try to win from my friend, i am quite willing that my friend should try to win from me." "ignore it? no!" cried captain wopper. "putt it in this way. isn't it wrong for me to have a longing desire and itching fingers to lay hold of _your_ cash?" "well, put in that simple form," said lewis, with a laugh, "it certainly is." "and isn't it equally wrong for you to have a hungering and thirsting after _my_ cash?" "of course that follows," assented lewis. "well, then," pursued the captain, "can any agreement between you and me, as to the guessing of black or white or the turning of dice or anything else, make a right out of two wrongs?" "still," said lewis, a little puzzled, "there is fallacy somewhere in your argument. i cannot see that gambling is wrong." "mark me, my lad," returned the captain, impressively, "it is no sufficient reason for the doing of a thing that you _cannot see_ it to be wrong. you are not entitled to do anything unless you _see_ it to be right. but there are other questions connected with gambling which renders it doubly mean--the question, for instance, whether a man is entitled to risk the loss of money which he calls his own, but which belongs to his wife and children as much as to himself. the mean positions, too, in which a gambler places himself, are numerous. one of these is, when a rich man wins the hard-earned and much-needed gains of a poor one." "but one is not supposed to know anything about the affairs of those from whom one wins," objected lewis. "all the more reason," replied captain wopper, "why a man should never gamble, lest, unwittingly, he should become the cause of great suffering--it might be, of death." still lewis "could not see" the wrong of gambling, and the discussion was cut short by the sudden stopping of the cab at a door in the strand, over which hung a lamp, on which the captain observed the word "billiards." "well, ta-ta, old fellow," said lewis, gaily, as he parted from his new friend, "we'll finish the argument another day. meanwhile, don't forget the hour--eight, sharp." chapter four. shows how the captain came to an anchor, and conceived a deep design. when captain wopper parted from his young friend, he proceeded along the strand in an unusually grave mood, shaking his head to such a degree, as he reflected on the precocious wickedness of the rising generation, that a very ragged and pert specimen of that generation, observing his condition, gravely informed him that there was an hospital for incurables in london, which took in patients with palsy and st. wituses' dance werry cheap. this recalled him from the depths of sorrowful meditation, and induced him to hail a cab, in which he drove to the docks, claimed his chest--a solid, seamanlike structure, reminding one of the wooden walls of old england--and returned with it to the head of the lane leading to grubb's court. dismissing the cab, he looked round for a porter, but as no porter appeared, the captain, having been accustomed through life to help himself, and being, as we have said, remarkably strong, shouldered the nautical chest, and bore it to the top of mrs roby's staircase. here he encountered, and almost tumbled over, gillie white, who saluted him with-- "hallo! ship aho-o-oy! starboard hard! breakers ahead! why, capp'n, you've all but run into me!" "why don't you show a light then," retorted the captain, "or blow your steam-whistle, in such a dark hole? what's that you've got in your arms?" "the baby," replied gillie. "what baby?" demanded the captain. "_our_ baby, of course," returned the imp, in a tone that implied the non-existence of any other baby worth mentioning. "i brought it up to show it to the sick 'ooman next door but one to mrs roby's cabin. she's very sick, she is, an' took a great longing to see our baby, cos she thinks it's like what her son was w'en _he_ was a baby. if he ever was, he don't look much like one now, for he's six-feet nothin' in his socks, an' drinks like a fish, if he don't do nothin' wuss. good-night capp'n. baby'll ketch cold if i keep on jawin' here. mind your weather eye, and port your helm when you reach the landin'. if you'll take the advice of a young salt, you'll clew up your mainsail an' dowse some of your top-hamper--ah! i thought so!" this last remark, delivered with a broad grin of delight, had reference to the fact that the captain had run the corner of his chest against the low roof of the passage with a degree of violence that shook the whole tenement. holding his breath in hopeful anticipation, and reckless of the baby's "ketching cold," the small boy listened for more. nor was he disappointed. in his progress along the passage captain wopper, despite careful steering, ran violently foul of several angles and beams, each of which mishaps sent a quiver through the old house, and a thrill to the heart of gillie white. in his earnest desire to steer clear of the sick woman's door, the luckless captain came into collision with the opposite wall, and anxiety on this point causing him to forget the step on which he had "struck" once before, he struck it again, and was precipitated, chest and all, against mrs roby's door, which, fortunately for itself, burst open, and let the avalanche of chest and man descend upon mrs roby's floor. knowing that the climax was now reached, the imp descended the stair filled with a sort of serene ecstasy, while captain wopper gathered himself up and sat down on his nautical portmanteau. "i tell 'ee what it is, old 'ooman," said he, stroking his beard, "the channel into this port is about the wust i ever had the ill-luck to navigate. i hope i didn't frighten 'ee?" "oh, dear no!" replied mrs roby, with a smile. to say truth, the old woman seemed less alarmed than might have been expected. probably the noise of the captain's approach, and previous experience, had prepared her for some startling visitation, for she was quite calm, and a humorous twinkle in her eyes seemed to indicate the presence of a spirit somewhat resembling that which actuated gillie white. "well, that's all right," said the captain, rising and pushing up the trap-door that led to his private berth in the new lodging; "and now, old lady, havin' come to an anchor, i must get this chest sent aloft as fast as i can, seein' that i've to clean myself an' rig out for a dinner at eight o'clock at the west end." "dear me," said mrs roby, in surprise, "you must have got among people of quality." "it won't be easy to hoist it up," said the captain, ignoring the remark, and eyeing the chest and trap-door in the roof alternately. just then a heavy step was heard in the passage; and a young man of large and powerful frame, with a gentle as well as gentlemanly demeanour, appeared at the door. "come in--come in," said mrs roby, with a bright look, "this is only my new lodger, a friend of dear wil--" "why, bless you, old 'ooman," interrupted captain wopper, "_he_ knows me well enough. i went to him this morning and got mrs stoutley's address. come in, dr lawrence. i may claim to act the host here now in a small way, perhaps, and bid visitors welcome--eh! mrs roby?" "surely, surely," replied the old woman. "thank you both for the welcome," said the visitor with a pleasant smile, as he shook hands with mrs roby. "i thought i recognised your voice, captain wopper, as you passed mrs leven's door, and came out to see how you and my old friend here get on together." "is she any better to-night, sir?" asked mrs roby, anxiously. lawrence shook his head sadly and said she was no better, and that he feared she had little chance of getting better while her dissipated son dwelt under the same roof with her. "it is breaking her heart," he added, "and, besides that, the nature of her disease is such that recovery is impossible unless she is fed on the most generous diet. this of course she cannot have, because she has no means of her own. her son gambles away nearly all his small salary, and she refuses to go to an hospital lest her absence should be the removal of the last restraining link between him and destruction. it is a very sad case-- very." captain wopper was struck with this reference to gambling coming so soon after his recent conversation on that subject, and asked if there were no charitable societies or charitable people in london who would help in a case so miserable. yes, there were plenty of charitable institutions, lawrence told him, but he feared that this woman had no special claim on any of them, and her refusal to go to an hospital would tell against her. there were also, he said, plenty of charitable people, but all of those he happened to be acquainted with had been appealed to by him so often that he felt ashamed to try them again. he had already given away as much of his own slender means as he could well spare, so that he saw no way out of the difficulty; but he had faith in providential supervision of human affairs, and he believed that a way would yet be opened up. "you're right, sir--right," said captain wopper, with emphasis, while he looked earnestly into the face of the young doctor. "this world wasn't made to be kicked about like a foot-ball by chance, or circumstances, or anything of the sort. look 'ee here, sir; it has bin putt into my heart to feel charitable leanings, and a good bit o' cash has bin putt into my pocket, so that, bein' a lone sort o' man, i don't have much use for it. that's on the one hand. on the other hand, here are you, sir, the son of a friend o' my chum willum stout, with great need of aid from charitable people, an' here we two are met together--both ready for action. now, i call that a providential arrangement, so please putt me down as one of your charitable friends. it's little i can boast of in that way as yet but it's not too late to begin. i've long arrears to pull up, so i'll give you that to begin with. it'll help to relieve mrs leven in the meantime." as he spoke, the captain drew a black pocketbook from his breast pocket and, taking a piece of paper therefrom, placed it in the doctor's hands. "this is a fifty-pound note!" said lawrence, in surprise. "well, what then?" returned the captain. "you didn't expect a thousand-pound note, did you?" "not quite that," replied lawrence, laughing, "but i thought that perhaps you had made a mistake." "ah! you judged from appearances, young man. don't you git into the way of doin' that, else you'll be for ever sailin' on the wrong tack. take my advice, an' never look as if you thought a man gave you more than he could afford. nobody never does that." "far be it from me," returned lawrence, "to throw cold water on generous impulses. i accept your gift with thanks, and will gladly put you on my list. if you should find hereafter that i pump you rather hard, please to remember that you gave me encouragement to do so." "pump away, sir. when you've pumped dry, i'll tell you!" "well," said lawrence, rising, "i'll go at once and bring your liberality into play; and, since you have done me so good a turn, remember that you may command my services, if they can ever be of any use to you." the captain cast a glance at the trap-door and the chest. "well," said he, "i can scarcely ask you to do it professionally, but if you'd lend a hand to get this noah's ark o' mine on to the upper deck, i'd--" "come along," cried lawrence, jumping up with a laugh, and seizing one end of the "ark." captain wopper grasped the other end, and, between them, with much puffing, pushing, and squeezing, they thrust the box through the trap to the upper regions, whither the captain followed it by means of the same gymnastic feat that he performed on his first ascent. thrusting his head down, he invited the doctor to "come aloft," which the doctor did in the same undignified fashion, for his gentle manner and spirit had not debarred him from the practice and enjoyment of manly exercises. "it's a snug berth, you see," said the captain, stumbling among the dusty lumber, and knocking his head against the beams, "wants cleaning up, tho', and puttin' to rights a bit, but i'll soon manage that; and when i git the dirt and cobwebs cleared away, glass putt in the port-holes, and a whitewash on the roof and walls, it'll be a cabin fit for an admiral. see what a splendid view of the river! just suited to a seafarin' man." "capital!" cried lawrence, going down on his knees to obtain the view referred to. "rather low in the roof, however, don't you think?" "low? not at all!" exclaimed the captain. "it's nothin' to what i've been used to on the coastin' trade off californy. why, i've had to live in cabins so small that a tall man couldn't keep his back straight when he was sittin' on the lockers; but we didn't _sit_ much in 'em; we was chiefly used to go into 'em to lie down. this is a palace to such cabins." the doctor expressed satisfaction at finding that his new "charitable contributor" took such enlarged views of a pigeon-hole, and, promising to pay him another visit when the "cabin" should have been put to rights, said good-bye, and went to relieve the wants of the sick woman. as the captain accompanied him along the passage, they heard the voice and step of poor mrs leven's dissipated son, as he came stumbling and singing up the stair. he was a stout good-looking youth, and cast a half impudent half supercilious look at captain wopper on approaching. he also bestowed a nod of careless recognition on dr lawrence. thinking it better to be out of the way, the captain said good-bye again to his friend, and returned to the cabin, where he expressed to mrs roby the opinion that, "that young feller leven was goin' to the dogs at railway speed." thereafter he went "aloft," and, as he expressed it, "rigged himself out," in a spruce blue coat with brass buttons; blue vest and trousers to match; a white dicky with a collar attached and imitation carbuncle studs down the front. to these he added a black silk neckerchief tied in a true sailor's knot but with the ends separated and carefully tucked away under his vest to prevent their interfering with the effulgence of the carbuncle studs; a pair of light shoes with a superabundance of new tie; a green silk handkerchief, to be carried in his hat, for the purpose of mopping his forehead when warm, and a red silk ditto to be carried in his pocket for the benefit of his nose. in addition to the studs, captain wopper wore, as ornaments, a solid gold ring, the rude workmanship of which induced the belief that he must have made it himself, and a large gold watch, with a gold chain in the form of a cable, and a rough gold nugget attached to it in place of a seal or key. we class the watch among simple ornaments because, although it went-- very demonstratively too, with a loud self-asserting tick--its going was irregular and uncertain. sometimes it went too slow without apparent cause. at other times it went too fast without provocation. frequently it struck altogether, and only consented to resume work after a good deal of gentle and persuasive threatening to wind it the wrong way. it had chronic internal complaints, too, which produced sundry ominous clicks and sounds at certain periods of the day. these passed off, however, towards evening. occasionally such sounds rushed as it were into a sudden whirr and series of convulsions, ending in a dead stop, which was an unmistakeable intimation to the captain that something vital had given way; that the watch had gone into open mutiny, and nothing short of a visit to the watchmaker could restore it to life and duty. "i'm off now," said the captain, descending when he was fully "rigged." "what about the door-key, mother?--you've no objection to my calling you mother, have you?" "none whatever, captain," replied mrs roby, with a pleasant smile, "an old friend of william may call me whatever he pleases--short," she added after momentary pause, "of swearin'." "trust me, i'll stop short of that. you see, old lady, i never know'd a mother, and i should like to try to feel what it's like to have one. it's true i'm not just a lad, but you are old enough to be my mother for all that, so i'll make the experiment. but what about the key of the door, mother? i can't expect you to let me in, you know." "just lock it, and take the key away with you," said mrs roby. "but what if a fire should break out?" said the captain, with a look of indecision. "i'm not afraid of fire. we've got a splendid brigade and plenty of fire-escapes, and a good kick from a fireman would open my door without a key." "mother, you're a trump! i'll lock you in and leave you with an easy mind--" he stopped abruptly, and mrs roby asked what was the matter. "well, it's what i said about an easy mind that threw me all aback," replied the captain, "for to tell 'ee the truth, i haven't got an easy mind." "not done anything wicked, i hope?" said mrs roby, anxiously. "no, no; nothin' o' that sort; but there _is_ somethin' lyin' heavy on my mind, and i don't see why i shouldn't make a confidant o' you, bein' my mother, d'ee see; and, besides, it consarns willum." the old woman looked eagerly at her lodger as he knitted his brows in perplexity and smoothed down his forelock. "here's where it is," he continued, drawing his chair closer to that of mrs roby; "when willum made me his exikooter, so to speak, he said to me, `wopper,' says he, `i'm not one o' them fellers that holds on to his cash till he dies with it in his pocket. i've got neither wife nor chick, as you know, an' so, wot i means to do is to give the bulk of it to them that i love while i'm alive--d'ee see?' `i do, willum,' says i. `well then,' says he, `besides them little matters that i axed you to do for me, i want you to take partikler notice of two people. one is the man as saved my life w'en i was a youngster, or, if he's dead, take notice of his child'n. the other is that sweet young creeter, emma gray, who has done the correspondence with me so long for my poor brother. you keep a sharp look-out an' find out how these two are off for money. if emma's rich, of course it's no use to give her what she don't need, and i'll give the most of what i've had the good fortune to dig up here to old mr lawrence, or his family, for my brother's widow, bein' rich, don't need it. if both emma and lawrence are rich, why then, just let me know, and i'll try to hit on some other plan to make away with it, for you know well enough i couldn't use it all upon myself without going into wicked extravagance, and my dear old mrs roby wouldn't know what to do with so much cash if i sent it to her. now, you promise to do this for me?' says he. `willum,' says i, `i do.'" "now, mother," continued the captain, "what troubles me is this, that instead o' findin' miss emma rich, and mr lawrence poor, or _wice wersa_, or findin' 'em both rich, i finds 'em both poor. that's where my difficulty lies." mrs roby offered a prompt solution of this difficulty by suggesting that william should divide the money between them. "that would do all well enough," returned the captain, "if there were no under-currents drivin' the ship out of her true course. but you see, mother, i find that the late mr stoutley's family is also poor--at least in difficulties--although they live in great style, and _seem_ to be rich; and from what i heard the other day, i know that the son is given to gamblin', and the mother seems to be extravagant, and both of 'em are ready enough to sponge on miss emma, who is quite willin'--far too willin'--to be sponged upon, so that whatever willum gave to her would be just thrown away. now the question is," continued the captain, looking seriously at the kettle with the defiant spout, "what am i to advise willum to do?" "advise him," replied mrs roby, promptly, "to give _all_ the money to dr lawrence, and get dr lawrence to marry miss gray, and so they'll both get the whole of it." a beaming smile crossed the captain's visage. "not a bad notion, mother; but what if dr lawrence, after gettin' the money, didn't want to marry miss gray?" "get him to marry her first and give the money afterwards," returned mrs roby. "ay, that might do," replied the captain, nodding slowly, "only it may be that a man without means may hesitate about marryin' a girl without means, especially if he didn't want _her_, and she didn't want _him_. i don't quite see how to get over all these difficulties." "there's only one way of getting over them," said mrs roby, "and that is, by bringin' the young people together, and givin' 'em a chance to fall in love." "true, true, mother, but, so far as i know, dr lawrence don't know the family. we couldn't," said the captain, looking round the room, dubiously, "ask 'em to take a quiet cup of tea here with us--eh? you might ask dr lawrence, as your medical man, and i might ask miss emma, as an old friend of her uncle, quite in an off-hand way, you know, as if by chance. they'd never see through the dodge, and would fall in love at once, perhaps--eh?" captain wopper said all this in a dubious tone, looking at the defiant kettle the while, as if propitiating its favourable reception of the idea, but it continued defiant, and hissed uncompromisingly, while its mistress laughed outright. "you're not much of a match-maker, i see," she said, on recovering composure. "no, captain, it wouldn't do to ask 'em here to tea." "well, well," said the captain, rising, "we'll let match-makin' alone for the present. it's like tryin' to beat to wind'ard against a cyclone. the best way is to square the yards, furl the sails, and scud under bare poles till it's over. it's blowin' too hard just now for me to make headway, so i'll wear ship and scud." in pursuance of this resolve, captain wopper put on his wide-awake, locked up his mother, and went off to dine at the "west end." chapter five. in which several important matters are arranged, and gillie white undergoes some remarkable and hitherto unknown experiences. it is not necessary to inflict on the reader mrs stoutley's dinner in detail; suffice it to say, that captain wopper conducted himself, on the whole, much more creditably than his hostess had anticipated, and made himself so entertaining, especially to lewis, that that young gentleman invited him to accompany the family to switzerland, much to the amusement of his cousin emma and the horror of his mother, who, although she enjoyed a private visit of the captain, did not relish the thought of his becoming a travelling companion of the family. she pretended not to hear the invitation given, but when lewis, knowing full well the state of her mind, pressed the invitation, she shook her head at him covertly and frowned. this by-play her son pretended not to see, and continued his entreaties, the captain not having replied. "now, do come with us, captain wopper," he said; "it will be such fun, and we should all enjoy you _so_ much--wouldn't we, emma?" ("yes, indeed," from emma); "and it would just be suited to your tastes and habits, for the fine, fresh air of the mountains bears a wonderful resemblance to that of the sea. you've been accustomed no doubt to climb up the shrouds to the crosstrees; well, in switzerland, you may climb up the hills to any sort of trees you like, and get shrouded in mist, or tumble over a precipice and get put into your shroud altogether; and--" "really, lewie, you ought to be ashamed of making such bad puns," interrupted his mother. "doubtless it would be very agreeable to have captain wopper with us, but i am quite sure it would be anything but pleasant for him to travel through such a wild country with such a wild goose as you for a companion." "you have modestly forgotten yourself and emma," said lewis; "but come, let the captain answer for himself. you know, mother, it has been your wish, if not your intention, to get a companion for me on this trip--a fellow older than myself--a sort of travelling tutor, who could teach me something of the geology and botany of the country as we went along. well, the captain is older than me, i think, which is one of the requisites, and he could teach me astronomy, no doubt, and show me how to box the compass; in return for which, i could show him how to box an adversary's nose, as practised by the best authorities of the ring. as to geology and botany, i know a little of these sciences already, and could impart my knowledge to the captain, which would have the effect of fixing it more firmly in my own memory; and every one knows that it is of far greater importance to lay a good, solid groundwork of education, than to build a showy, superficial structure, on a bad foundation. come, then, captain, you see your advantages. this is the last time of asking. if you don't speak now, henceforth and for ever hold your tongue." "well, my lad," said the captain, with much gravity, "i've turned the thing over in my mind, and since mrs stoutley is so good as to say it would be agreeable to her, i think i'll accept your invitation!" "bravo! captain, you're a true blue; come, have another glass of wine on the strength of it." "no wine, thank 'ee," said the captain, placing his hand over his glass, "i've had my beer; and i make it a rule never to mix my liquor. excuse me, ma'am," he continued, addressing his hostess, "your son made mention of a tooter--a travellin' tooter; may i ask if you've provided yourself with one yet!" "not yet," answered mrs stoutley, feeling, but not looking, a little surprised at the question, "i have no young friend at present quite suited for the position, and at short notice it is not easy to find a youth of talent willing to go, and on whom one can depend. can you recommend one?" mrs stoutley accompanied the question with a smile, for she put it in jest. she was, therefore, not a little surprised when the captain said promptly that he could--that he knew a young man--a doctor--who was just the very ticket (these were his exact words), a regular clipper, with everything about him trim, taut, and ship-shape, who would suit every member of the family to a tee! a hearty laugh from every member of the family greeted the captain's enthusiastic recommendation, and emma exclaimed that he must be a most charming youth, while lewis pulled out pencil and note-book to take down his name and address. "you are a most valuable friend at this crisis in our affairs," said lewis, "i'll make mother write to him immediately." "but have a care," said the captain, "that you never mention who it was that recommended him. i'm not sure that he would regard it as a compliment. you must promise me that." "i promise," said lewis, "and whatever i promise mother will fulfil, so make your mind easy on that head. now, mother, i shouldn't wonder if captain wopper could provide you with that other little inexpensive luxury you mentioned this morning. d'you think you could recommend a page?" "what's a page, lad?" "what! have you never heard of a page--a page in buttons?" asked lewis in surprise. "never," replied the captain, shaking his head. "why, a page is a small boy, usually clad in blue tights, to make him look as like a spider as possible, with three rows of brass buttons up the front of his jacket--two of the rows being merely ornamental, and going over his shoulders. he usually wears a man's hat for the sake of congruity, and is invariably as full of mischief as an egg is of meat. can you find such an article?" "ha!" exclaimed the captain. "what is he used for?" "chiefly for ornament, doing messages, being in the way when not wanted, and out of the way when required." "yes," said the captain, meditatively, "i've got my eye--" "your weather eye?" asked lewis. "yes, my _weather_ eye, on a lad who'll fit you." "to a tee?" inquired emma, archly. "to a tee, miss," assented the captain, with a bland smile. lewis again pulled out his note-book to enter the name and address, but the captain assured him that he would manage this case himself; and it was finally settled--for lewis carried everything his own way, as a matter of course--that dr george lawrence was to be written to next day, and captain wopper was to provide a page. "and you'll have to get him and yourself ready as fast as possible," said the youth in conclusion, "for we shall set off as soon as my mother's trunks are packed." next morning, while captain wopper was seated conversing with his old landlady at the breakfast-table--the morning meal having been just concluded--he heard the voice of gillie white in the court. going to the end of the passage, he ordered that imp to "come aloft." gillie appeared in a few seconds, nodded patronisingly to old mrs roby, hoped she was salubrious, and demanded to know what was up. "my lad," said the captain--and as he spoke, the urchin assumed an awful look of mock solemnity. "i want to know if you think you could behave yourself if you was to try?" "ah!" said gillie, with the air of a cross-examining advocate, "the keewestion is not w'ether i could behave myself if i wos to try, but, w'ether i _think_ i could. well, ahem! that depends. i think i could, now, if there was offered a very strong indoocement." "just so, my lad," returned the captain, nodding, "that's exactly what i mean to offer. what d'ee say to a noo suit of blue tights, with three rows brass buttons; a situation in a respectable family; a fair wage; as much as you can eat and drink; and a trip to switzerland to begin with?" while the captain spoke, the small boy's eyes opened wider and wider, and his month followed suit, until he stood the very picture of astonishment. "you _don't_ mean it?" he exclaimed. "indeed i do, my lad." "then _i'm_ your man," returned the small boy emphatically, "putt me down for that sitooation; send for a lawyer, draw up the articles, _i'll_ sign 'em right _off_, and--" "gillie, my boy," interrupted the captain, "one o' the very first things you have to do in larnin' to behave yourself is to clap a stopper on your tongue--it's far too long." "all right, capp'n," answered the imp, "i'll go to guy's hospital d'rectly and 'ave three-fourths of it ampitated." "do," said the captain, somewhat sternly, "an' ask 'em to attach a brake to the bit that's left. "now, lad," he continued, "you've got a very dirty face." gillie nodded, with his lips tightly compressed to check utterance. "and a very ragged head of hair," he added. again gillie nodded. the captain pointed to a basin of water which stood on a chair in a corner of the room, beside which lay a lump of yellow soap, a comb, and a rough jack-towel. "there," said he, "go to work." gillie went to work with a will, and scrubbed himself to such an extent, that his skin must undoubtedly have been thinner after the operation. the washing, however, was easy compared with the combing. the boy's mop was such a tangled web, that the comb at first refused to pass through it; and when, encouraged by the captain, the urchin did at last succeed in rending its masses apart various inextricable bunches came away bodily, and sundry teeth of the comb were left behind. at last, however, it was reduced to something like order, to the immense satisfaction of mrs roby and the captain. "now," said the latter, "did you ever have a turkish bath?" "no--never." "well, then, come with me and have one. have you got a cap?" "hm--never mind, come along; you're not cleaned up yet by a long way; but we'll manage it in course of time." as the captain and his small _protege_ passed along the streets, the former took occasion to explain that a turkish bath was a species of mild torture, in which a man was stewed alive, and baked in an oven, and par-boiled, and scrubbed, and pinched, and thumped (sometimes black and blue), and lathered with soap till he couldn't see, and heated up to seven thousand and ten, fahrenheit and soused with half-boiling water, and shot at with cold water--or shot into it, as the case might be--and rolled in a sheet like a mummy, and stretched out a like corpse to cool. "most men," he said, "felt gaspy in turkish baths, and weak ones were alarmed lest they should get suffocated beyond recovery; but strong men rather enjoy themselves in 'em than otherwise." "hah!" exclaimed the imp, "may i wentur' to ax, capp'n, wot's the effect on _boys_?" to this the captain replied that he didn't exactly know, never having heard of boys taking turkish baths. whereupon gillie suggested, that if possible he might have himself cleaned in an ordinary bath. "impossible, my lad," said the captain, decidedly. "no or'nary bath would clean you under a week, unless black soap and scrubbin' brushes was used. "but don't be alarmed, gillie," he added, looking down with a twinkle in his eyes, "i'll go into the bath along with you. we'll sink or swim together, my boy, and i'll see that you're not overdone. i'm rather fond of them myself, d'ee see, so i can recommend 'em from experience." somewhat reassured by this, though still a little uneasy in his mind, the imp followed his patron to the baths. it would have been a sight worth seeing, the entrance of these two into the temple of soap-and-water. to see gillie's well-made, but very meagre and dirty little limbs unrobed; to see him decked out with the scrimpest possible little kilt, such as would, perhaps, have suited the fancy of a fiji islander; to see his gaze of undisguised admiration on beholding his companion's towering and massive frame in the same unwonted costume, if we may so style it; to see the intensifying of his astonishment when ushered into the _first_ room, at beholding six or seven naked, and apparently dead men, laid round the walls, as if ready for dissection; to see the monkey-like leap, accompanied by a squeal, with which he sprang from a hot stone-bench, having sat down thereon before it had been covered with a cloth for his reception; to see the rapid return of his self-possession in these unusual circumstances, and the ready manner in which he submitted himself to the various operations, as if he had been accustomed to turkish baths from a period long prior to infancy; to see his horror on being introduced to the hottest room, and his furtive glance at the door, as though he meditated a rush into the open air, but was restrained by a sense of personal dignity; to see the ruling passion strong as ever in this (he firmly believed) his nearest approach to death, when, observing that the man next to him (who, as it were, turned the corner from him) had raised himself for a moment to arrange his pillow, he (gillie) tipped up the corner of the man's sheet, which hung close to his face in such a manner that he (the man), on lying down again, placed his bare shoulder on the hot stone, and sprang up with a yell that startled into life the whole of the half-sleeping establishment with the exception of the youth on the opposite bench, who, having noticed the act, was thrown into convulsions of laughter, much to the alarm of gillie, who had thought he was asleep and feared that he might "tell;"--to see him laid down like a little pink-roll to be kneaded, and to hear him remark, in a calm voice, to the stalwart attendant that he might go in and win and needn't be afraid of hurting him; to observe his delight when put under the warm "douche," his gasping shriek when unexpectedly assailed with the "cold-shower," and his placid air of supreme felicity when wrapped up like a ghost in a white sheet, and left to dry in the cooling-room--to see and hear all this, we say, would have amply repaid a special journey to london from any reasonable distance. the event, however, being a thing of the past and language being unequal to the description, we are compelled to leave it all to the reader's imagination. chapter six. a lesson taught and learned. two days after the events narrated in the last chapter, rather late in the evening, dr george lawrence called at "the cabin" in grubb's court, and found the captain taking what he called a quiet pipe. "i have been visiting poor mrs leven," he said to mrs roby, sitting down beside her, "and i fear she is a good deal worse to-night. that kind little woman, netta white, has agreed to sit by her. i'm sorry that i shall be obliged to leave her at such a critical stage of her illness, but i am obliged to go abroad for some time." "goin' abroad, sir!" exclaimed mrs roby in surprise, for the captain had not yet told her that lawrence was to be of the party, although he had mentioned about himself and gillie white. "yes, i'm going with mrs stoutley's family for some weeks to switzerland." captain wopper felt that his share in the arrangements was in danger of being found out. he therefore boldly took the lead. "ah! _i_ know all about that, sir." "indeed?" said lawrence. "yes, i dined the other day with mrs stoutley; she asked _me_ also to be of the party, and i'm going." lawrence again exclaimed, "indeed!" with increasing surprise, and added, "well, now, that _is_ a strange coincidence." "well, d'ee know," said the captain, in an argumentative tone, "it don't seem to me much of a coincidence. you know she had to git some one to go with her son, and why not you, sir, as well as any of the other young sawbones in london? if she hadn't got you she'd have got another, and that would have been a coincidence to _him_, d'ee see? then, as to me, it wasn't unnatural that she should take a fancy to the man that nussed her dyin' husband, an' was chum to her brother-in-law; so, you see, that's how it came about and i'm very glad to find, sir, that we are to sail in company for a short time." lawrence returned this compliment heartily, and was about to make some further remark, when little netta white rushed into the room with a frightened look and pale cheeks, exclaiming, "oh, dr lawrence, sir, she's _very_ ill. i think she's dying." without waiting for a reply, the child ran out of the room followed by lawrence and mrs roby, who was assisted by the captain--for she walked with great difficulty even when aided by her crutches. in a few seconds they stood beside mrs leven's bed. it was a lowly bed, with scant and threadbare coverings, and she who lay on it was of a lowly spirit--one who for many years had laid her head on the bosom of jesus, and had found him, through a long course of poverty and mental distress, "a very present help in trouble." "i fear that i'm very ill," she said, faintly. "no doubt you feel rather low just now," said the doctor, "but that is very much owing to your having lived so long on insufficient diet. i will give you something, however, which will soon pull you up a bit. come, cheer up. don't let your spirits get so low." "yes," she murmured, "i _am_ brought very low, but the lord will lift me up. he is my strength and my redeemer." she clasped her hands with difficulty, and shut her eyes. a silence followed, during which captain wopper drew lawrence into the passage. "d'you think she is near her end, doctor?" "she looks very like it," replied the doctor. "there is a possibility that she might recover if the right medicine could be found, namely, ease of mind; but her dissipated son has robbed her of that, and is the only one who can give it back to her--if indeed he has the power left now. she is dying of what is unprofessionally styled a broken heart. it is unfortunate that her son is not with her at present." "does no one know where to find him?" asked the captain. "i fear not," replied the doctor. "please, sir, i think _i_ know," said a subdued voice behind them. it was that of gillie white, who had drawn near very silently, being overawed by the sad scene in the sick-room. "do you, my lad? then get along as fast as you can and show me the way," said the captain, buttoning up his pilot-coat. "i'll bring him here before long, doctor, if he's to be found." in a few minutes the captain and gillie were at the head of the lane, where the former hailed a passing cab, bade the boy jump in, and followed him. "now, my lad, give the address," said the captain. "the strand," said the boy, promptly. "what number, sir?" asked the cabman, looking at the captain. "right on till i stop you," said gillie, with the air of a commander-in-chief--whom in some faint manner he now resembled, for he was in livery, being clothed in blue tights and brass buttons. in a short time gillie gave the order to pull up, and they got out in front of a brilliantly-lighted and open door with a lamp above it, on which was written the word billiards. the captain observed that it was the same door as that at which he had parted from lewis stoutley some days before. dismissing the cab and entering, they quickly found themselves in a large and well-lighted billiard-room, which was crowded with men of all ages and aspects, some of whom played, others looked on and betted, a good many drank brandy and water, and nearly all smoked. it was a bright scene of dissipation, where many young men, deceiving themselves with the idea that they went merely to practise or to enjoy a noble game of skill, were taking their first steps on the road to ruin. the captain, closely attended by gillie, moved slowly through the room, looking anxiously for fred leven. for some time they failed to find him. at last a loud curse, uttered in the midst of a knot of on-lookers, attracted their attention. it was followed by a general laugh, as a young man, whose dishevelled hair and flushed face showed that he had been drinking hard, burst from among them and staggered towards the door. "never mind, fred," shouted a voice that seemed familiar to the captain, "you'll win it back from me next time." ere the youth had passed, the captain stepped forward and laid his hand on his arm. fred uttered a savage growl, and drew back his clenched hand as if to strike, but captain wopper's size and calm look of decision induced him to hold his hand. "what d'you mean by interrupting me?" he demanded, sternly. "my lad," said the captain, in a low, solemn voice, "your mother is dying, come with me. you've no time to lose." the youth's face turned ashy pale, and he passed his hand hastily across his brow. "what's wrong?" exclaimed lewis stoutley, who had recognised the captain, and come forward at the moment. "did he lose his money to _you_?" asked the captain, abruptly. "well, yes, he did," retorted lewis, with a look of offended dignity. "come along, then, my lad. i want _you_ too. it's a case of life an' death. ask no questions, but come along." the captain said this with such an air of authority, that lewis felt constrained to obey. fred leven seemed to follow like one in a dream. they all got into a cab, and were driven back to grubb's court. as they ascended the stair, the captain whispered to lewis, "keep in the background, my lad. do nothing but look and listen." another moment and they were in the passage, where lawrence stopped them. "you're almost too late, sir," he said to fred, sternly. "if you had fed and clothed your mother better in time past, she might have got over this. fortunately for her, poor soul, some people, who don't gamble away their own and their parents' means, have given her the help that you have refused. go in, sir, and try to speak words of comfort to her _now_." he went in, and fell on his knees beside the bed. "mother!" he said. fain would he have said more, but no word could he utter. his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. mrs leven opened her eyes on hearing the single word, and her cheek flushed slightly as she seized one of his hands, kissed it and held it to her breast. then she looked earnestly, and oh! so anxiously, into his face, and said in a low tone:-- "fred, dear, are you so--" she stopped abruptly. "yes, yes," cried her son, passionately; "yes, mother, i'm sober _now_! oh mother, dearest, darling mother, i am guilty, guilty; i have sinned. oh forgive, forgive me! listen, listen! i am in earnest now, my mother. think of me as i used to be long ago. don't shut your eyes. look at me, mother, look at fred." the poor woman looked at him with tears of gladness in her eyes. "god bless you, fred!" she murmured. "it is long, long, since you spoke like that. but i knew you would. i have always expected that you would. praise the lord!" fred tried to speak, and again found that he could not, but the fountain of his soul was opened. he laid his face on his mother's hand and sobbed bitterly. those who witnessed this scene stood as if spellbound. as far as sound or motion went these two might have been in the room alone. presently the sound of sobbing ceased, and fred, raising his head, began gently to stroke the hand he held in his. sometime in his wild career, he knew not when or where, he had heard it said that this slight action had often a wonderful power to soothe the sick. he continued it for some time. then the doctor advanced and gazed into the invalid's countenance. "she sleeps," he said, in a low tone. "may i stay beside her?" whispered fred. lawrence nodded assent, and then motioning to the others to withdraw, followed them into mrs roby's room, where he told them that her sleeping was a good sign, and that they must do their best to prevent her being disturbed. "it won't be necessary for any one to watch. her son will prove her best attendant just now; but it may be as well that some one should sit up in this room, and look in now and then to see that the candle doesn't burn out, and that all is right. i will go now, and will make this my first visit in the morning." "captain wopper," said lewis stoutley, in a subdued voice, when lawrence had left, "i won this ten-pound note to-night from fred. i--i robbed him of it. will you give it to him in the morning?" "yes, my lad, i will," said the captain. "and will you let me sit up and watch here tonight?" "no, my lad, i won't. i mean to do that myself." "but do let me stay an hour or so with you, in case anything is wanted," pleaded lewis. "well, you may." they sat down together by the fireside, mrs roby having lain down on her bed with her clothes on, but they spoke never a word; and as they sat there, the young man's busy brain arrayed before him many and many a scene of death, and sickness, and suffering, and sorrow, and madness, and despair, which, he knew well from hearsay (and he now believed it), had been the terrible result of gambling and drink. when the hour was past, the captain rose and said, "now, lewis, you'll go, and i'll take a look at the next room." he put off his shoes and went on tiptoe. lewis followed, and took a peep before parting. fred had drawn three chairs to the bedside and lain down on them, with his shoulders resting on the edge of the bed, so that he could continue to stroke his mother's hand without disturbing her. he had continued doing so until his head had slowly drooped upon the pillow; and there they now lay, the dissipated son and the humble christian mother, sleeping quietly together. chapter seven. the great white mountain. we are in switzerland now; in the "land of the mountain and the flood"-- the land also of perennial ice and snow. the solemn presence of the great white mountain is beginning to be felt. its pure summit was first seen from geneva; its shadow is now beginning to steal over us. we are on the road to chamouni, not yet over the frontier, in a carriage and four. mrs stoutley, being a lady of unbounded wealth, always travels post in a carriage and four when she can manage to do so, having an unconquerable antipathy to railroads and steamers. she could not well travel in any other fashion here, railways not having yet penetrated the mountain regions in this direction, and a mode of ascending roaring mountain torrents in steamboats not having yet been discovered. she might, however, travel with two horses, but she prefers four. captain wopper, who sits opposite emma gray, wonders in a quiet speculative way whether "the mines" will produce a dividend sufficient to pay the expenses of this journey. he is quite disinterested in the thought, it being understood that the captain pays his own expenses. but we wander from our text, which is--the great white mountain. we are driving now under its shadow with mrs stoutley's party, which, in addition to the captain and miss gray, already mentioned, includes young dr george lawrence and lewis, who are on horseback; also mrs stoutley's maid (mrs stoutley never travels without a maid), susan quick, who sits beside the captain; and gillie white, _alias_ the spider and the imp, who sits beside the driver, making earnest but futile efforts to draw him into a conversation in english, of which language the driver knows next to nothing. but to return: mrs stoutley and party are now in the very heart of scenery the most magnificent; they have penetrated to a great fountain-head of european waters; they are surrounded by the cliffs, the gorges, the moraines, and are not far from the snow-slopes and ice-fields, the couloirs, the seracs, the crevasses, and the ice-precipices and pinnacles of a great glacial world; but not one of the party betrays the smallest amount of interest, or expresses the faintest emotion of surprise, owing to the melancholy fact that all is shrouded in an impenetrable veil of mist through which a thick fine rain percolates as if the mountain monarch himself were bewailing their misfortunes. "isn't it provoking?" murmured mrs stoutley drawing her shawl closer. "very," replied emma. "disgusting!" exclaimed lewis, who rode at the side of the carriage next his cousin. "it might be worse," said lawrence, with a grim smile. "impossible," retorted lewis. "come, captain, have you no remark to make by way of inspiring a little hope?" asked mrs stoutley. "why, never havin' cruised in this region before," answered the captain, "my remarks can't be of much value. hows'ever, there _is_ one idea that may be said to afford consolation, namely, that this sort o' thing can't last. i've sailed pretty nigh in all parts of the globe, an' i've invariably found that bad weather has its limits--that after rain we may look for sunshine, and after storm, calm." "how cheering!" said lewis, as the rain trickled from the point of his prominent nose. at that moment gillie white, happening to cast his eyes upward, beheld a vision which drew from him an exclamation of wild surprise. they all looked quickly in the same direction, and there, through a rent in the watery veil, they beheld a little spot of blue sky, rising into which was a mountain-top so pure, so faint so high and inexpressibly far off, yet so brilliant in a glow of sunshine, that it seemed as if heaven had been opened, and one of the hills of paradise revealed. it was the first near view that the travellers had obtained of these mountains of everlasting ice. with the exception of the exclamations "wonderful!" "most glorious!" they found no words for a time to express their feelings, and seemed glad to escape the necessity of doing so by listening to the remarks of their driver, as he went into an elaborate explanation of the name and locality of the particular part of mont blanc that had been thus disclosed. the rent in the mist closed almost as quickly as it had opened, utterly concealing the beautiful vision; but the impression it had made, being a first and a very deep one, could never more be removed. the travellers lived now in the faith of what they had seen. scepticism was no longer possible, and in this improved frame of mind they dashed into the village of chamouni--one of the haunts of those whose war-cry is "excelsior!"--and drove to the best hotel. their arrival in the village was an unexpected point of interest to many would-be mountaineers, who lounged about the place with macintoshes and umbrellas, growling at the weather. any event out of the common forms a subject of interest to men who wait and have nothing to do. as the party passed them, growlers gazed and speculated as to who the new-comers might be. some thought miss gray pretty; some thought otherwise--to agree on any point on such a day being, of course, impossible. others "guessed" that the young fellows must be uncommonly fond of riding to "get on the outside of a horse" in such weather; some remarked that the "elderly female" seemed "used up," or "_blasee_," and all agreed--yes, they _did_ agree on this point--that the thing in blue tights and buttons beside the driver was the most impudent-looking monkey the world had ever produced! the natives of the place also had their opinions, and expressed them to each other; especially the bronzed, stalwart sedate-looking men who hung about in knots near the centre of the village, and seemed to estimate the probability of the stout young englishmen on horseback being likely to require their services often--for these, said the driver, were the celebrated guides of chamouni; men of bone and muscle, and endurance and courage; the leaders of those daring spirits who consider--and justly so--the ascent to the summit of mont blanc, or monte rosa, or the matterhorn, a feat; the men who perform this feat it may be, two or three times a week--as often as you choose to call them to it, in fact-- and think nothing of it; the men whose profession it is to risk their lives every summer from day to day for a few francs; who have become so inured to danger that they have grown quite familiar with it, insomuch that some of the reckless blades among them treat it now and then with contempt, and pay the penalty of such conduct with their lives. sinking into a couch in her private sitting-room, mrs stoutley resigned herself to susan's care, and, while she was having her boots taken off, said with a sigh:-- "well, here we are at last. what do you think of chamouni, susan?" "rather a wet place, ma'am; ain't it?" with a languid smile, mrs stoutley admitted that it was, but added, by way of encouragement that it was not always so. to which susan replied that she was glad to hear it, so she was, as nothink depressed her spirits so much as wet and clouds, and gloom. susan was a pretty girl of sixteen, tall, as well as very sedate and womanly, for her age. having been born in one of the midland counties, of poor, though remarkably honest, parents, who had received no education themselves, and therefore held it to be quite unnecessary to bestow anything so useless on their daughter, she was, until very recently, as ignorant of all beyond the circle of her father's homestead as the daughter of the man in the moon--supposing no compulsory education-act to be in operation in the orb of night. having passed through them, she now knew of the existence of france and switzerland, but she was quite in the dark as to the position of these two countries with respect to the rest of the world, and would probably have regarded them as one and the same if their boundary-line had not been somewhat deeply impressed upon her by the ungallant manner in which the customs officials examined the contents of her modest little portmanteau in search, as gillie gave her to understand, of tobacco. mrs stoutley had particularly small feet, a circumstance which might have induced her, more than other ladies, to wear easy boots; but owing to some unaccountable perversity of mental constitution, she deemed this a good reason for having her boots made unusually tight. the removal of these, therefore, afforded great relief, and the administration of a cup of tea produced a cheering reaction of spirits, under the influence of which she partially forgot herself, and resolved to devote a few minutes to the instruction of her interestingly ignorant maid. "yes," she said, arranging herself comfortably, and sipping her tea, while susan busied herself putting away her lady's "things," and otherwise tidying the room, "it does not always rain here; there is a little sunshine sometimes. by the way, where is miss gray?" "in the bedroom, ma'am, unpacking the trunks." "ah, well, as i was saying, they have a little sunshine sometimes, for you know, susan, people _must_ live, and grass or grain cannot grow without sunshine, so it has been arranged that there should be enough here for these purposes, but no more than enough, because switzerland has to maintain its character as one of the great refrigerators of europe." "one of the what, ma'am?" "refrigerators," explained mrs stoutley; "a refrigerator, susan, is a freezer; and it is the special mission of switzerland to freeze nearly all the water that falls on its mountains, and retain it there in the form of ice and snow until it is wanted for the use of man. isn't that a grand idea?" the lecturer's explanation had conveyed to susan's mind the idea of the switzers going with long strings of carts to the top of mont blanc for supplies of ice to meet the european demand, and she admitted that it _was_ a grand idea, and asked if the ice and snow lasted long into the summer. "long into it!" exclaimed her teacher. "why, you foolish thing, its lasts all through it." "oh indeed, ma'am!" said susan, who entertained strong doubts in her heart as to the correctness of mrs stoutley's information on this point. "yes," continued that lady, with more animation than she had experienced for many months past, so invigorating was the change of moral atmosphere induced by this little breeze of instruction; "yes, the ice and snow cover the hills and higher valleys for dozens and dozens of miles round here in all directions, not a few inches deep, such as we sometimes see in england, but with thousands and millions of tons of it, so that the ice in the valleys is hundreds of feet thick, and never melts away altogether, but remains there from year to year--has been there, i suppose, since the world began, and will continue, i fancy, until the world comes to an end." mrs stoutley warmed up here, to such an extent that she absolutely flushed, and susan, who had heretofore regarded her mistress merely as a weakish woman, now set her down, mentally, as a barefaced story-teller. "surely, ma'am," she said, with diffidence, "ice and snow like that doesn't fill _all_ the valleys, else we should see it, and find it difficult to travel through 'em; shouldn't we, ma'am?" "silly girl!" exclaimed her preceptress, "i did not say it filled _all_ the valleys, but the _higher_ valleys--valleys such as, in england and scotland, would be clothed with pasturage and waving grain, and dotted with cattle and sheep and smiling cottages." mrs stoutley had by this time risen to a heroic frame, and spoke poetically, which accounts for her ascribing risible powers to cottages. "and thus you see, susan," she continued, "switzerland is, as it were, a great ice-tank, or a series of ice-tanks, in which the ice of ages is accumulated and saved up, so that the melting of a little of it--the mere dribbling of it, so to speak--is sufficient to cause the continuous flow of innumerable streams and of great rivers, such as the rhone, and the rhine, and the var." the lecture received unexpected and appropriate illustration here by the sudden lifting of the mists, which had hitherto blotted out the landscape. "oh, aunt!" exclaimed emma, running in at the moment, "just look at the hills. how exquisite! how much grander than if we had seen them quite clear from the first!" emma was strictly correct, for it is well known that the grandeur of alpine scenery is greatly enhanced by the wild and weird movements of the gauze-like drapery with which it is almost always partially enshrouded. as the trio stood gazing in silent wonder and admiration from their window, which, they had been informed, commanded a view of the summit of mont blanc, the mist had risen like a curtain partially rolled up. all above the curtain-foot presented the dismal grey, to which they had been too long accustomed, but below, and, as it were, far behind this curtain, the mountain-world was seen rising upwards. so close were they to the foot of the great white monarch, that it seemed to tower like a giant-wall before them; but this wall was varied and beautiful as well as grand. already the curtain had risen high enough to disclose hoary cliffs and precipices, with steep grassy slopes between, and crowned with fringes of dark pines; which latter, although goodly trees, looked like mere shrubs in their vast setting. rills were seen running like snowy veins among the slopes, and losing themselves in the masses of _debris_ at the mountain-foot. as they gazed, the curtain rose higher, disclosing new and more rugged features, on which shone a strange, unearthly light--the result of shadow from the mist and sunshine behind it--while a gleam of stronger light tipped the curtain's under-edge in one direction. still higher it rose! susan exclaimed that the mountain was rising into heaven; and emma and mrs stoutley, whose reading had evidently failed to impress them with a just conception of mountain-scenery, stood with clasped hands in silent expectancy and admiration. the gleam of stronger light above referred to, widened, and susan almost shrieked with ecstasy when the curtain seemed to rend, and the gleam resolved itself into the great glacier des bossons, which, rolling over the mountain-brow like a very world of ice, thrust its mighty tongue down into the valley. from that moment susan's disbelief in her lady's knowledge changed into faith, and deepened into profound veneration. it was, however, only a slight glimpse that had been thus afforded of the ice-world by which they were surrounded. the great ice-fountain of those regions, commencing at the summit of mont blanc, flings its ample waves over mountain and vale in all directions, forming a throne on which perpetual winter reigns, and this glacier des bossons, which filled the breasts of our travellers with such feelings of awe, was but one of the numerous rivers which flow from the fountain down the gorges and higher valleys of the alps, until they reach those regions where summer heat asserts itself, and checks their further progress in the form of ice by melting them. "is it possible," said emma, as she gazed at the rugged and riven mass of solid ice before her, "that a glacier really _flows_?" "so learned men tell us, and so we must believe," said mrs stoutley. "flows, ma'am?" exclaimed susan, in surprise. "yes, so it is said," replied mrs stoutley, with a smile. "but we can see, ma'am, by lookin' at it, that it _don't_ flow; can't we, ma'am?" said susan. "true, susan, it does not seem to move; nevertheless scientific men tell us that it does, and sometimes we are bound to believe against the evidence of our senses." susan looked steadily at the glacier for some time; and then, although she modestly held her tongue, scientific men fell considerably in her esteem. while the ladies were thus discussing the glacier and enlightening their maid, lewis, lawrence, and the captain, taking advantage of the improved state of the weather, had gone out for a stroll, partly with a view, as lewis said, to freshen up their appetites for dinner--although, to say truth, the appetites of all three were of such a nature as to require no freshening up. they walked smartly along the road which leads up the valley, pausing, ever and anon, to look back in admiration at the wonderful glimpses of scenery disclosed by the lifting mists. gradually these cleared away altogether, and the mountain summits stood out well defined against the clear sky. and then, for the first time, came a feeling of disappointment. "why, lawrence," said lewis, "didn't they tell us that we could see the top of mont blanc from chamouni?" "they certainly did," replied lawrence, "but i can't see it." "there are two or three splendid-looking peaks," said lewis, pointing up the valley, "but surely that's not the direction of the top we look for." "no, my lad, it ain't the right point o' the compass by a long way," said the captain; "but yonder goes a strange sail a-head, let's overhaul her." "heave a-head then, captain," said lewis, "and clap on stun's'ls and sky-scrapers, for the strange sail is making for that cottage on the hill, and will get into port before we overhaul her if we don't look sharp." the "strange sail" was a woman. she soon turned into the cottage referred to, but our travellers followed her up, arranging, as they drew near, that lawrence, being the best french scholar of the three (the captain knowing nothing whatever of the language), should address her. she turned out to be a very comely young woman, the wife, as she explained, of one of the chamouni guides, named antoine grennon. her daughter, a pretty blue-eyed girl of six or so, was busy arranging a casket of flowers, and the grandmother of the family was engaged in that mysterious mallet-stone-scrubbing-brush-and-cold-water system, whereby the washerwomen of the alps convert the linen of tourists into shreds and patches in the shortest possible space of time. after some complimentary remarks, lawrence asked if it were possible to see the summit of mont blanc from where they stood. certainly it was; the guide's pretty wife could point it out and attempted to do so, but was for a long time unsuccessful, owing to the interference of preconceived notions--each of our travellers having set his heart upon beholding a majestic peak of rugged rock, mingled, perhaps, with ice-blocks and snow. "most extraordinary," exclaimed the puzzled captain, "i've squinted often enough at well-known peaks when on the look-out for landmarks from the sea, an' never failed to make 'em out. let me see," he added, getting behind the woman so as to look straight along her outstretched arm, "no, _i_ can't see it. my eyes must be giving way." "surely," said lawrence, "you don't mean that little piece of smooth snow rising just behind the crest of yonder mountain like a bit of rounded sugar?" "oui, monsieur"--that was precisely what she meant; _that_ was the summit of mont blanc. and so, our three travellers--like many hundreds of travellers who had gone before them, and like many, doubtless, who shall follow--were grievously disappointed with their first view of mont blanc! they lived, however to change their minds, to discover that the village of chamouni lies too close to the toe of the great white mountain to permit of his being seen to advantage. one may truly see a small scrap of the veritable top from chamouni, but one cannot obtain an idea of what it is that he sees. as well might a beetle walk close up to the heel of a man, and attempt from that position to form a correct estimate of his size; as well might one plant himself two inches distant from a large painting and expect to do it justice! no, in order to understand mont blanc, to "realise" it, to appreciate it adequately, it requires that we should stand well back, and get up on one of the surrounding heights, and make the discovery that as _we_ rise _he_ rises, and looks vaster and more tremendous the further off we go and the higher up we rise, until, with foot planted on the crest of one of the neighbouring giants, we still look up, as well as down, and learn--with a feeling of deeper reverence, it may be, for the maker of the "everlasting hills"--that the grand monarch with the hoary head does in reality tower supreme above them all. chapter eight. introduces the reader to various personages, and touches on glaciers. at this time our travellers, having only just been introduced to the mountain, had a great deal to hear and see before they understood him. they returned to the hotel with the feeling of disappointment still upon them, but with excellent appetites for dinner. in the _salle a manger_ they met with a miscellaneous assortment of tourists. these, of whom there were above thirty, varied not only as to size and feature, but as to country and experience. there were veteran alpine men--steady, quiet, bronzed-looking fellows, some of them--who looked as if they had often "attacked" and conquered the most dangerous summits, and meant to do so again. there were men, and women too, from england, america, germany, france, and russia. some had been at chamouni before, and wore the self-possessed air of knowledge; others had obviously never been there before, and were excited. many were full of interest and expectation, a few, chiefly very young men, wore a _blase_, half-pitiful, half-patronising air, as though to say, "that's right, good people, amuse yourselves with your day-dreams while you may. _we_ have tried a few weeks of this sort of thing, and have done a summit or two; in imagination we have also been up mont blanc and monte rosa, and the matterhorn, and a few of the hymalaya peaks, and most of the mountains in the moon, and several of the fixed stars, and--haw--are now rather boa-ord with it all than otherwise!" there were men who had done much and who said little, and men who had done little and who spoke much. there were "ice-men" who had a desire to impart their knowledge, and would-be ice-men who were glad to listen. easy-going men and women there were, who flung the cares of life behind them, and "went in," as they said, for enjoyment; and who, with abounding animal spirits, a dash of religious sentiment, much irrepressible humour and fun, were really pleasant objects to look at, and entertaining companions to travel with. earnest men and women there were, too, who gathered plants and insects, and made pencil-sketches and water-colour drawings during their rambles among mountains and valleys, and not a few of whom chronicled faithfully their experiences from day to day. there was a polish count, a tall, handsome, middle-aged, care-worn, anxious-looking man, who came there, apparently in search of health, and who was cared for and taken care of by a dark-eyed little daughter. this daughter was so beautiful, that it ought to have made the count well--so thought most of the young men-- simply to look at her! there was a youthful british lord, who had come to "do" mont blanc and a few other peaks. he was under charge of a young man of considerable experience in mountaineering, whose chief delight seemed to be the leading of his charge to well-known summits by any other and more difficult tracks than the obvious and right ones, insomuch that lewis stoutley, who had a tendency to imprudent remark, said in his hearing that he had heard of men who, in order to gain the roof of a house, preferred to go up by the waterspout rather than the staircase. there was an artist, whom lewis--being, as already observed, given to insolence--styled the mad artist because he was enthusiastic in his art, galvanic in his actions, and had large, wild eyes, with long hair, and a broad-brimmed conical hat. besides these, there was a russian professor, who had come there for purposes of scientific investigation, and a couple of german students, and a scotch man of letters, whose aim was general observation, and several others, whose end was simply seeing the world. in the arrangements of the table, captain wopper found himself between emma gray and the polish count, whose name was horetzki. directly opposite to him sat mrs stoutley, having her son lewis on her right, and dr lawrence on her left. beside the count sat his lovely little daughter nita, and just opposite to her was the mad artist. this arrangement was maintained throughout the sojourn of the various parties during their stay at chamouni. they did, indeed, shift their position as regarded the table, according to the arrival or departure of travellers, but not in regard to each other. now it is an interesting, but by no means surprising fact, that cupid planted himself in the midst of this party, and, with his fat little legs, in imminent danger of capsizing the dishes, began to draw his bow and let fly his arrows right and left. being an airy sprite, though fat, and not at any time particularly visible, a careless observer might have missed seeing him; but to any one with moderate powers of observation, he was there, straddling across a dish of salad as plain as the salt-cellar before captain wopper's nose. his deadly shafts, too, were visibly quivering in the breasts of lewis stoutley, george lawrence, and the mad artist. particularly obvious were these shafts in the case of the last, who was addicted to gazing somewhat presumptuously on "lovely woman" in general, from what he styled an artistic point of view--never from any other point of view; of course not. whether or not cupid had discharged his artillery at the young ladies, we cannot say, for they betrayed no evidence of having been wounded. in their case, he must either have missed his aim, or driven his shafts home with such vigour, that they were buried out of sight altogether in their tender hearts. it is probable that not one member of that miscellaneous company gave a thought at that time to the wounded men, except the wounded men themselves, so absorbing is the love of food! the wounded were, however, sharp-set in all respects. they at once descried each other's condition, and, instead of manifesting sympathy with each other, were, strange to say, filled with intense jealousy. this at least is true of the younger men. lawrence, being somewhat older, was more secretive and self-possessed. at first captain wopper, having declined a dish of cauliflower because it was presented _alone_, and having afterwards accepted a mutton chop _alone_, with feelings of poignant regret that he had let the cauliflower go by, was too busy to observe what the heathen-mythological youngster was doing. indeed, at most times, the said youngster might have discharged a whole quiver of arrows into the captain's eyes without his being aware of the attack; but, at the present time, the captain, as the reader is aware, was up to the eyes in a plot in which cupid's aid was necessary; he had, as it were, invoked the fat child's presence. when, therefore, he had got over the regrets about the cauliflower, and had swallowed the mutton-chop, he began to look about him--to note the converse that passed between the young men, and the frequent glances they cast at the young women. it was not the first time that the captain had, so to speak, kept his weather-eye open in regard to the affection which he had made up his mind must now have been awakened in the breasts of george lawrence and emma gray; but hitherto his hopes, although sanguine, had not received encouragement. though polite and respectful to each other, they were by no means tender; altogether, they acted quite differently from what the captain felt that he would have done in similar circumstances. a suspicion had even crossed the poor seaman's mind that emma was in love with her handsome and rattling cousin lewis; but anxiety on this head was somewhat allayed by other and conflicting circumstances, such as occasional remarks by lewis, to the effect that emma was a goose, or a pert little monkey, or that she knew nothing beyond house-keeping and crochet, and similar compliments. now, however, in a certain animated conversation between lawrence and emma, the designing seaman thought he saw the budding of his deep-laid plans, and fondly hoped ere long to behold the bud developed into the flower of matrimony. under this conviction he secretly hugged himself, but in the salon, that evening, he opened his arms and released himself on beholding the apparently fickle lawrence deeply engaged in converse with the count horetzki, to whose pretty daughter, however, he addressed the most of his remarks. the captain, being a blunt honest, straightforward man, could not understand this state of matters, and fell into a fit of abstracted perplexity on the sofa beside mrs stoutley, who listened listlessly to the russian professor as he attempted to explain to her and emma the nature of a glacier. "well, i don't understand it at all," said mrs stoutley, at the end of one of the professor's most lucid expositions. we may remark, in passing, that the professor, like many of his countrymen, was a good linguist and spoke english well. "not understand it!" he exclaimed, with a slight elevation of his eyebrows. "my dear madam, it is most plain, but i fear my want of good english does render me not quite intelligible." "your english is excellent," replied mrs stoutley, with a smile, "but i fear that my brain is not a sufficiently clear one on such matters, for i confess that i cannot understand it. can you, captain wopper?" "certainly not, ma'am," answered the captain, thinking of the fickle lawrence; "it takes the wind out of my sails entirely." "indeed!" said the professor. "well, do permit me to try again. you understand that all the mountain-tops and elevated plateaus, for many miles around here, are covered with ice and snow." "oh!" exclaimed the captain, awaking to the fact that his answer was not relevant; "may i ax what is the particular pint that puzzles you, ma'am?" emma laughed aloud at this, and coughed a little to conceal the fact. she was rather easily taken by surprise with passing touches of the ludicrous, and had not yet acquired the habit of effectually suppressing little explosions of undertoned mirth. "the thing that puzzles me," said mrs stoutley, "is, that glaciers should _flow_, as i am told they do, and yet that they should be as hard and brittle as glass." "ah, well, yes, just so, h'm!" said the captain, looking very wise; "that is exactly the pint that i want to know myself; for no man who looks at the great tongue of that glacier day bossung--" "des bossons," said the professor, with a bland smile. "day bossong," repeated the captain, "can deny that it is marked with all the lines, and waves, an eddies of a rollin' river, an' yet as little can they deny that it seems as hard-and-fast as the rock of gibraltar." the professor nodded approvingly. "you are right, captain whipper--" "wopper," said the captain, with a grave nod. "wopper," repeated the professor, "the glacier des bossons, like all the other glaciers, seems to remain immovable, though in reality it flows-- ever flows--downward; but its motion is so slow, that it is not perceptible to the naked eye. similarly, the hour-hand of a watch is to appearance motionless. do you want proof? mark it just now; look again in quarter of an hour, and you see that it has moved. you are convinced. it is so with the glacier. mark him to-day, go back to-morrow--the mark has changed. some glaciers flow at the rate of two and three feet in the twenty-four hours." "yes, but _how_ do they flow, being so brittle?" demanded mrs stoutley. "ay, that's the pint, professor," said the captain, nodding, "_how_ do they flow, bein' made of hard and brittle ice?" "why, by rolling higgledy-piggledy over itself of course," said lewis, flippantly, as he came up and sat down on the end of the sofa, being out of humour with himself and everybody in consequence of having utterly failed to gain the attention of nita horetzki, although he had made unusually earnest efforts to join in conversation with her father. owing to somewhat similar feelings, the artist had flung himself into a chair, and sat glaring at the black fireplace with a degree of concentration that ought to have lighted the firewood therein. "the cause of a glacier flowing," said the professor, "has long been a disputed point. some men of science have held that it is the pressure of ice and snow behind it which causes it to flow. they do not think that it flows like water, but say it is forced from behind, and crushed through gorges and down valleys, as it were, unwillingly. they say that, if left alone, as they now are, without additions, from this time forward, glaciers would no longer move; they would rest, and slowly melt away; that their motion is due to the fact that there are miles and miles of snow-fields, thousands of feet deep, on the mountain-tops and in the gorges, to which fresh snows are added every winter, so that the weight of what is behind, slipping off the slopes and falling from the cliffs, crushes down and forward that which is below; thus glaciers cannot choose but advance." "ay, ay," said the captain, "no doubt no doubt that may be so; but why is it that, bein' as brittle as glass, a glacier don't come rumblin' and clatterin' down the valleys in small hard bits, like ten thousand millions of smashed-up chandeliers?" "ay, there's the rub," exclaimed lewis; "what say you to that?" "ha!" exclaimed the professor, again smiling blandly, "there you have touched what once was, and, to some philosophers it seems, still is, the great difficulty. by some great men it has been held that glacier ice is always in a partially soft, viscid, or semi-fluid condition, somewhat like pitch, so that, although _apparently_ a solid, brittle, and rigid body, it flows sluggishly in reality. other philosophers have denied this theory, insisting that the ice of glaciers is _not_ like pitch, but like glass, and that it cannot be squeezed without being broken, nor drawn without being cracked. these philosophers have discovered that when ice is subjected to great pressure it melts, and that, when the pressure is removed, the part so melted immediately freezes again--hence the name regelation, or re-freezing, is given to the process. thus a glacier, they say, is in many places being continually melted and continually and instantaneously re-frozen, so that it is made to pass through narrow gorges, and to open out again when the enormous pressure has been removed. but this theory of regelation, although unquestionably true, and although it exercises _some_ influence on glacier motion, does not, in my opinion, alone account for it. the opinion which seems to be most in favour among learned men--and that which i myself hold firmly--is, the theory of the scottish professor forbes, namely, that a glacier is a semi-fluid body, it is largely impregnated throughout its extent with water, its particles move round and past each other--in other words, it flows in precisely the same manner as water, the only difference being that it is not quite so fluid; it is sluggish in its flow, but it certainly models itself to the ground over which it is forced by its own gravity, and it is only rent or broken into fragments when it is compelled to turn sharp angles, or to pass over steep convex slopes. forbes, by his careful measurements and investigations, proved incontestably that in some glaciers the central portion travelled down its valley at double or treble the rate of its sides, without the continuity of the mass being broken. in small masses, indeed, glacier-ice is to all appearance rigid, but on a large scale it is unquestionably ductile." "has the theory of regelation been put to the proof?" asked lewis, with a degree of interest in glaciers which he had never before felt. "it has," answered the professor. "an experimentalist once cut a bar of solid ice, like to a bar of soap in form and size, from a glacier. to this an iron weight of several pounds was suspended by means of a very fine wire, which was tied round the bar. the pressure of the wire melted the ice under it; as the water escaped it instantly re-froze above the wire; thus the wire went on cutting its way through the bar, and the water went on freezing, until at last the weight fell to the ground, and left the bar as solid and entire as if it had never been cut." "well, now," said captain wopper, bringing his hand down on his thigh with a slap that did more to arouse mrs stoutley out of her languor than the professor's lecture on glacier ice, "i've sailed round the world, i have, an' seen many a strange sight, and what i've got to say is that i'll believe that when i _see_ it." "you shall see it soon then, i hope," said the professor, more blandly than ever, "for i intend to verify this experiment along with several others. i go to the mer de glace, perhaps as far as the jardin, to-morrow. will you come?" "what may the jardang be?" asked the captain. "hallo! monkey, what's wrong?" said lewis to emma, referring to one of the undertoned safety-valves before mentioned. "nothing," replied emma, pursing her little lips till they resembled a cherry. "the jardin, or garden," said the professor, "is a little spot of exquisite beauty in the midst of the glaciers, where a knoll of green grass and flowers peeps up in the surrounding sterility. it is one of the regular excursions from chamouni." "can ladies go?" asked lewis. "young and active ladies can," said the professor, with his blandest possible smile, as he bowed to emma. "then, we'll all go together," cried lewis, with energy. "not all," said mrs stoutley, with a sigh, "i am neither young nor active." "nonsense, mother, you're quite young yet, you know, and as active as a kitten when you've a mind to be. come, we'll have a couple of porters and a chair to have you carried when you knock up." notwithstanding the glowing prospects of ease and felicity thus opened up to her, mrs stoutley resolutely refused to go on this excursion, but she generously allowed emma to go if so disposed. emma, being disposed, it was finally arranged that, on the following day, she, the captain, lewis, and lawrence, with gillie white as her page, should proceed up the sides of mont blanc with the man of science, and over the mer de glace to the jardin. chapter nine. a solid stream. there is a river of ice in switzerland, which, taking its rise on the hoary summit of mont blanc, flows through a sinuous mountain-channel, and terminates its grand career by liquefaction in the vale of chamouni. a mighty river it is in all respects, and a wonderful one--full of interest and mystery and apparent contradiction. it has a grand volume and sweep, varying from one to four miles in width, and is about twelve miles long, with a depth of many hundreds of feet. it is motionless to the eye, yet it descends into the plain continually. it is hard and unyielding in its nature, yet it flows as really and steadily, if not with as lithe a motion, as a liquid river. it is _not_ a half solid mass like mud, which might roll slowly down an incline; it is solid, clear, transparent, brittle ice, which refuses to bend, and cracks sharply under a strain; nevertheless, it has its waves and rapids, cross-currents, eddies, and cascades, which, seen from a moderate distance, display all the grace and beauty of flowing water--as if a grand river in all its varied parts, calm and turbulent, had been actually and suddenly arrested in its course and frozen to the bottom. it is being melted perpetually too. the fierce sun of summer sends millions of tiny streamlets down into its interior, which collect, augment, cut channels for themselves through the ice, and finally gush into the plain from its lower end in the form of a muddy river. even in winter this process goes on, yet the ice-river never melts entirely away, but holds on its cold, stately, solemn course from year to year-- has done so for unknown ages, and will probably do so to the end of time. it is picturesque in its surroundings, majestic in its motion, tremendous in its action, awful in its sterility, and, altogether, one of the most impressive and sublime works of god. this gigantic glacier, or stream of ice, springing, as it does, from the giant-mountain of europe, is appropriately hemmed in, and its mighty force restrained, by a group of titans, whose sharp aiguilles, or needle-like peaks, shoot upward to a height little short of their rounded and white-headed superior, and from whose wild gorges and riven sides tributary ice-rivers flow, and avalanches thunder incessantly. leaving its cradle on the top of mont blanc, the great river sweeps round the aiguille du geant; and, after receiving its first name of glacier du geant from that mighty obelisk of rock, which rises , feet above the sea, it passes onward to welcome two grand tributaries, the glacier de lechaud, from the rugged heights of the grandes jorasses, and the glacier du talefre from the breast of the aiguille du talefre and the surrounding heights. thus augmented, the river is named the mer de glace, or sea of ice, and continues its downward course; but here it encounters what may be styled "the narrows," between the crags at the base of the aiguille charmoz and aiguille du moine, through which it steadily forces its way, though compressed to much less than half its width by the process. in one place the glacier du geant is above eleven hundred yards wide; that of the lechaud is above eight hundred; that of talefre above six hundred--the total, when joined, two thousand five hundred yards; and this enormous mass of solid ice is forced through a narrow neck of the valley, which is, in round numbers, only _nine hundred_ yards wide! of course the ice-river must gain in depth what it loses in breadth in this gorge, through which it travels at the rate of twenty inches a day. thereafter, it tumbles ruggedly to its termination in the vale of chamouni, under the name of the glacier des bois. the explanation of the causes of the rise and flow of this ice-river we will leave to the genial and enthusiastic professor, who glories in dilating on such matters to captain wopper, who never tires of the dilations. huge, however, though this glacier of the mer de glace be, it is only one of a series of similar glaciers which constitute the outlets to that vast reservoir of ice formed by the wide range of mont blanc, where the snows of successive winters are stored, packed, solidified, and rendered, as it were, self-regulating in their supplies of water to the plains. and the mont blanc range itself is but a portion of the great glacial world of switzerland, the area occupied by which is computed at square miles. two-thirds of these send their waters to the sea through the channel of the rhine. the most extensive of these glaciers is the aletsch glacier, which is fifteen miles in length. it is said that above six hundred distinct glaciers have been reckoned in switzerland. this, good reader, is but a brief reference to the wonders of the glacial world. it is but a scratching of the surface. there is a very mine of interesting, curious, and astonishing facts below the surface. nature is prodigal of her information to those who question her closely, correctly, and perseveringly. even to those who observe her carelessly, she is not altogether dumb. she is generous; and the god of nature has caused it to be written for our instruction that, "his works are wonderful, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein." we may not, however, prolong our remarks on the subject of ice-rivers at this time. our travellers at chamouni are getting ready to start, and it is our duty at present to follow them. chapter ten. the first excursion. "a splendid morning!" exclaimed dr george lawrence, as he entered the _salle a manger_ with an obviously new alpenstock in his hand. "jolly!" replied lewis stoutley, who was stooping at the moment to button one of his gaiters. lewis was addicted to slang, not by any means an uncommon characteristic of youth! "the man," he said, with some bitterness, "who invented big buttons and little button-holes should have had his nose skewered with a button-hook. he was an ass!" in order to relieve his feelings and accomplish his ends, lewis summarily enlarged the holes with his penknife. "and _round_ buttons, too," he said, indignantly; "what on earth was the use of making round buttons when flat ones had been invented? a big hole and a flat button will hold against anything--even against scotch whins and heather. there, now, that abominable job is done." "you are fond of strong language, lewie," said lawrence, as he examined the spike at the end of his alpenstock. "i am. it relieves my feelings." "but don't you think it weakens your influence on occasions when nothing but strong language will serve? you rob yourself of the power, you know, to increase the force of it." "oh bother! don't moralise, man, but let's have your opinion of the weather, which is an all-important subject just now." "i have already given my opinion as to that," said lawrence, "but here comes one who will give us an opinion of value.--he is in capital time." "good morning, antoine." their guide for the day, antoine grennon, a fine stalwart specimen of his class, returned the salutation, and added that it was a very fine morning. "capital, isn't it?" cried lewis, cheerfully, for he had got over the irritation caused by the buttons. "couldn't be better; could it?" the guide did not admit that the weather could not be better. "you look doubtful, antoine," said lawrence. "don't you think the day will keep up?" "keep up!" exclaimed lewis; "why, the sky is perfectly clear. of course it will. i never saw a finer day, even in england. why do you doubt it, antoine?" the guide pointed to a small cloud that hung over the brow of one of the higher peaks. "appearances are sometimes deceitful in this country," he said. "i don't doubt the fineness of the day at present, but--" he was interrupted here by the sudden and noisy entrance of captain wopper and the professor, followed by the mad artist, whose name, by the way, was slingsby. "no, no," said the captain to the professor, with whom he had already become very intimate, "it won't do to part company. if the jardang is too far for the ladies, we will steer for the mairdyglass, an' cross over to the what's-'is-name--" "chapeau," said the professor. "ah! the shappo," continued the captain, "and so down by the glacier dez boys--" "the what?" asked lewis, with a half-suppressed smile. "the glacier dez boys, youngster," repeated the captain, stoutly. "oh, i see; you mean the glacier des bois?" said lewis, suppressing the smile no longer. "what i mean, young man," said the captain, sternly, "is best known to myself. you and other college-bred coxcombs may call it day bwa, if you like, but i have overhauled the chart, and there it's spelt d-e-s, which sounds dez, and b-o-i-s, which seafarin' men pronounce boys, so don't go for to cross my hawse again, but rather join me in tryin' to indooce the professor to putt off his trip to the jardang, an' sail in company with us for the day." "i will join you heartily in that," said lewis, turning to the man of science, who stood regarding the captain with an amiable smile, as a huge newfoundland dog might regard a large mastiff; "but why is our proposed excursion to the jardin to be altered?" "because," said the professor, "your amiable sister--i beg pardon, cousin--with that irresistible power of suasion which seems inherent in her nature, has prevailed on mademoiselle horetzki to join the party, and mademoiselle is too delicate--sylph-like--to endure the fatigues of so long an excursion over the ice. our worthy guide suggests that it would afford more pleasure to the ladies--and of course, therefore, to the gentlemen--if you were to make your first expedition only to the montanvert which is but a two hours' climb from chamouni, picnic there, cross the mer de glace, which is narrow at that point, and descend again to chamouni by the side of the glacier des bois, where you can behold the great moraines, and also the source of the river arveiron. this would be a pleasant and not too fatiguing round, and i, who might perhaps be an encumbrance to you, will prosecute my inquiries at the jardin alone." "impossible," exclaimed lewis, "the captain is right when he observes that we must not part company. as my mother says, we are a giddy crew, and will be the better of a little scientific ballast to keep us from capsizing into a crevasse. do come, my dear sir, if it were only out of charity, to keep us in order." to this entreaty lawrence and the artist added their persuasions, which were further backed by the eloquence of emma gray and nita horetzki, who entered at the moment radiant with the flush of life's dawning day, and irresistible in picturesque mountain attire, the chief characteristics of which consisted in an extensive looping up of drapery, and an ostentatious display of those staffs called alpenstocks, five feet long, tipped with chamois horn, which are an indispensable requisite in alpine work. "oh! you _muss_ go," said nita, in silvery tones and disjointed english. "if you go not, monsieur, _i_ go not!" "that of course decides the question, mademoiselle," said the gallant professor, with one of his blandest smiles, "i shall accompany you with pleasure. but i have one little request to make. my time at chamouni is short; will you permit me, on arriving at the mer de glace, to prosecute my inquiries? i am here to ask questions of nature, and must do so with perseverance and patience. will you allow me to devote more of my attention to _her_ than to yourself?" "h'm! well--what you say, mademoiselle gray?" demanded nita, with an arch look at her companion. "is the professor's request reasonable?" to this emma replied that as nature was, upon the whole, a more important lady than either of them, she thought it _was_ reasonable; whereupon the professor agreed to postpone his visit to the jardin, and devote his day to fixing stakes and making observations on the mer de glace, with a view to ascertaining the diurnal rate of speed at which the glacier flowed. "you spoke of putting certain questions to nature, professor," said lawrence, when the party were slowly toiling up the mountain-side. "have they not already been put to her, and satisfactorily answered some time ago?" "they have been put," replied the professor, "by such learned men as saussure, agassiz, rendu, charpentier, and by your own countryman forbes, and others, and undoubtedly their questions have received distinct answers, insomuch that our knowledge of the nature and action of glacial ice is now very considerable. but, my dear sir, learned men have not been agreed as to what nature's replies mean, nor have they exhausted the subject; besides, no true man of science is quite satisfied with merely hearing the reports of others, he is not content until he has met and conversed with nature face to face. i wish, therefore, to have a personal interview with her in these alps, or rather," continued the professor, in a more earnest tone, "i do wish to see the works of my maker with my own eyes, and to hear his voice with the ears of my own understanding." "your object, then, is to verify, not to discover?" said lawrence. "it is both. primarily to verify; but the man of science always goes forth with the happy consciousness that the mine in which he proposes to dig is rich in gems, and that, while seeking for one sort, he may light upon another unexpectedly." "when captain wopper turned up yonder gem, he lit on one which, if not of the purest water, is unquestionably a brilliant specimen of the class to which it belongs," said lewis, coming up at that moment, and pointing to a projection in the somewhat steep part of the path up which they were winding. the gem referred to was no other than our friend gillie white. that hilarious youth, although regenerated outwardly as regards blue cloth and buttons, had not by any means changed his spirit since fortune began to smile on him. finding that his mistress, being engaged with her dark-eyed friend, did not require his services, and observing that his patron, captain wopper, held intercourse with the guide--in broken english, because he, the guide, also spoke broken english--that lawrence and the professor seemed capable of entertaining each other, that lewis and the artist, although dreadfully jealous of each other, were fain to hold social intercourse, the ladies being inseparable, and that he, gillie, was therefore left to entertain himself he set about amusing himself to the best of his power by keeping well in rear of the party and scrambling up dangerous precipices, throwing stones at little birds, charging shrubs and stabbing the earth with emma's alpenstock, immolating snails, rolling rocks down precipitous parts of the hill, and otherwise exhibiting a tendency to sport with nature--all of which he did to music whistled by himself, and in happy forgetfulness of everything save the business in hand. he was engaged in some apparently difficult piece of fancy work, involving large boulders, when lewis drew attention to him. "what can the imp be up to?" he said. "most likely worrying some poor reptile to death," said the artist, removing his conical wideawake and fanning himself therewith. (mr slingsby was very warm, his slender frame not being equal to his indomitable spirit.) "i think he is trying to break your alpenstock, emma," observed lewis. there seemed to be truth in this, for gillie, having fixed the staff as a lever, was pulling at it with all his might. the projection of rock on which he stood, and which overhung the zigzag road, was partially concealed by bushes, so that the precise intention of his efforts could not be discovered. at that moment antoine, the guide, turned to see what detained the party, and instantly uttered a loud shout of alarm as he ran back to them. the warning or remonstrance came too late. gillie had loosened an enormous rock which had been on the point of falling, and with a throb of exultation, which found vent in a suppressed squeal, he hurled a mass, something about the size and weight of a cart of coals, down the precipice. but the current of gillie's feelings was rudely changed when a shriek from the ladies, and something between a roar and a yell from the gentlemen, told that they had observed a man with a mule, who, in ascending from the valley, had reached a spot which lay in the direct line of the miniature avalanche; and when the muleteer, also observing the missile, added a hideous howl to the chorus, the poor urchin shrank back appalled. the rock struck the track directly behind the mule with a force which, had it been expended only six inches more to the right, would have driven that creature's hind legs into the earth as if they had been tenpenny nails; it then bounded clear over the next turning of the track, crashed madly through several bushes, overturned five or six trees, knocked into atoms a sister rock which had taken the same leap some ages before, and finally, leaving behind it a grand tail of dust and _debris_, rolled to its rest upon the plain. at the first symptom of the danger, captain wopper had rushed towards the culprit. "rascal!" he growled between his teeth, as he seized gillie by the nape of the neck, lifted him almost off his legs, and shook him, "d'ee see what you've done?" he thrust the urchin partially over the precipice, and pointed to the man and the mule. "please, i _haven't_ done it," pleaded gillie. "but you did your best to--you--you small--there!" he finished off the sentence with an open-handed whack that aroused the echoes of mont blanc, and cast the culprit adrift. "now, look 'ee, lad," said the captain, with impressive solemnity, "if you ever go to chuck stones like that over the precipices of this here mountain again, i'll chuck you over after 'em. d'ee hear?" "yes, cappen," grumbled gillie, rubbing himself, "but if you do, it's murder. no jury of englishmen would think of recommendin' you to mercy in the succumstances. you'd be sure to swing--an' i--i could wish you a better fate." the captain did not wait to hear the boy's good wishes, but hastened to rejoin his friends, while gillie followed in rear, commenting audibly on the recent incident. "well, well," he said, thrusting both hands deep into bush trouser-pockets, according to custom when in a moralising frame of mind, "who'd a thought it, gillie white, that you'd 'ave bin brought all the way from london to the halps to make such a close shave o' committin' man-slaughter to say nothin' of mule-slaughter, and to git whacked by your best friend? oh! cappen, cappen, i couldn't 'ave believed it of you if i 'adn't felt it. but, i say, gillie, _wasn't_ it a big 'un? ha! ha! the cappen threatened to chuck me over the precipice, but i've chucked over a wopper that beats _him_ all to sticks. hallo! i say that's worthy of _punch_. p'r'aps i'll be a contributor to it w'en i gets back from zwizzerland, if i ever does get back, vich is by no means certain. susan, my girl, i'll 'ave summat to enliven you with this evenin'." we need scarcely say that this last remark had reference to mrs stoutley's maid, with whom the boy had become a great favourite. indeed the regard was mutual, though there was this difference about it, that susan, being two years older than gillie, and tall as well as womanly for her age, looked upon the boy as a precocious little oddity, whereas gillie, esteeming himself a man--"all but"--regarded susan with the powerful feelings of a first affection. from this, and what has been already said, it will be apparent to our fair readers that cupid had accompanied mrs stoutley's party to chamouni, with the intention apparently of amusing himself as well as interfering with captain wopper's matrimonial designs. the road to the montanvert is a broad and easy bridle-path, which, after leaving the valley, traverses a pine-forest in its ascent and becomes in places somewhat steep. here and there a zigzag is found necessary, and in several places there are tracks of avalanches. about half-way up there is a spring named the caillet which was shaded by trees in days of yore, but the avalanches have swept these away. beside the spring of pure water there was a spring of "fire-water," in a hut where so-called "refreshments" might also be obtained. as none of our party deemed it necessary to stimulate powers, which, at that time of the day, were fresh and vigorous, they passed this point of temptation without halting. other temptations, however, were not so easily resisted. the professor was stopped by rocky stratifications, the ladies were stopped by flowers and views, the younger gentlemen were of course stopped by the ladies, and the mad artist was stopped by everything. poor mr slingsby, who had been asked to join the party, in virtue of his being a friend of the count, and, therefore, of nita, was so torn by the conflict resulting from his desire to cultivate nita, and cut out lewis and lawrence, and his desire to prosecute his beloved art, that he became madder than usual. "splendid foregrounds" met him at every turn; "lovely middle-distances" chained him in everywhere; "enchanting backgrounds" beset him on all sides; gorgeous colours dazzled him above and below; and nita's black eyes pierced him continually through and through. it was terrible! he was constantly getting into positions of danger--going out on ledges to obtain particular views, rolling his large eyes, pulling off his hat and tossing back his long hair, so as to drink in more thoroughly the beauties around him, and clambering up precipices to fetch down bunches of wild flowers when nita chanced to express the most distant allusion to, or admiration of, them. "he will leave his bones in one crevasse!" growled antoine, on seeing him rush to a point of vantage, and, for the fiftieth time, squat down to make a rapid sketch of some "exquisite bit" that had taken his fancy. "'tis of no use," he said, on returning to his friends, "i cannot sketch. the beauties around me are too much for me." he glanced timidly at nita, who looked at him boldly, laughed, and advised him to shut his eyes, so as not to be distracted with such beauties. "impossible; i cannot choose but look. see," he said, pointing backward to their track, "see what a lovely effect of tender blue and yellow through yonder opening--" "d'you mean gillie?" asked lewis, with a quiet grin, as that reckless youth suddenly presented his blue coat and yellow buttons in the very opening referred to. the laugh called forth by this was checked by the voice of captain wopper, who was far in advance shouting to them to come on. a few minutes more, and the whole party stood on the montanvert beside the small inn which has been erected there for the use of summer tourists, and from which point the great glacier broke for the first time in all its grandeur, on their view. well might emma and nita stand entranced for some time, unable to find utterance to their feelings, save in the one word--wonderful! even slingsby's mercurial spirit was awed into silence, for, straight before them, the white and frozen billows of the mer de glace stretched for miles away up into the gorges of the giant hills until lost in and mingled with the clouds of heaven. chapter eleven. the pursuit of science under difficulties. after the first burst of enthusiasm and interest had abated, the attention of the party became engrossed in the proceedings of the professor, who, with his assistants, began at once to adjust his theodolite, and fix stakes in the ice. while he was thus engaged, captain wopper regarded the mer de glace with a gaze of fixedness so intense as to draw on him the attention and arouse the curiosity of his friends. "d'you see anything curious, captain?" asked emma, who chanced to stand beside him. "coorious--eh?" repeated the captain slowly, without altering his gaze or adding to his reply. "monsieur le capitaine is lost in consternation," said nita, with a smile. "i think, miss horetzki," said lewis, "that you probably mean _admiration_." "how you knows w'at i mean?" demanded nita, quickly. "ha! a very proper and pertinent question," observed slingsby, in an audible though under tone. "i nevair do put _pertinent_ questions, sir," said nita, turning her black eyes sharply, though with something of a twinkle in them, on the mad artist. poor slingsby began to explain, but nita cut him short by turning to lewis and again demanding, "how you knows w'at i mean?" "the uniform propriety of your thoughts, mademoiselle," replied lewis, with a continental bow, and an air of pretended respect, "induces me to suppose that your words misinterpret them." nita's knowledge of english was such that this remark gave her only a hazy idea of the youth's meaning; she accepted it, however, as an apologetic explanation, and ordered him to awaken the captain and find out from him what it was that so riveted his attention. "you hear my orders," said lewis, laying his hand with a slap on the captain's shoulder. "what are you staring at?" "move!" murmured the captain, returning as it were to consciousness with a long deep sigh, "it don't move an inch." "_what_ does not move?" said lawrence, who had been assisting to adjust the theodolite, and came forward at the moment. "the ice, to be sure," answered the captain. "i say, professor, do 'ee mean to tell me that the whole of that there mairdy-glass is movin'?" "i do," answered the professor, pausing for a minute in his arrangements, and looking over his spectacles at the captain with an amused expression. "then," returned the captain, with emphasis, "i think you'll find that you're mistaken." "ha! captain weeper--" "wopper," said the captain. "wopper," repeated the professor, "you are not the first who has expressed disbelief in what he cannot see, and you will assuredly not be the last; but if you will wait i will convince you." "very good," replied the captain, "i'm open to conviction." "which means," said lewis, "that you have nailed your colours to the mast, and mean to die rather than give in." "no doubt," said the captain, paying no attention to the last remark, "i see, _and_ believe, that at some time or other the ice here must have been in a flowin' state. i'm too well aware o' the shape of waves an' eddies, cross-currents and ripples, to doubt or deny that but any man with half an eye can see that it's anchored hard and fast _now_. i've looked at it without flinchin' for good ten minutes, and not the smallest sign of motion can i detect." "so might you say of the hour-hand of a watch," observed lawrence. "not at all," retorted the captain, becoming argumentative. "i look at the hour-hand of a watch for ten minutes and don't see it move, but i _do_ see that it has in reality passed over a very small but appreciable space in that time." "just so," said the professor, "i will ere long show you the same thing in regard to the ice." "i'll bet you ten thousand pounds you don't," returned the captain, with an assured nod. "colours nailed!" said lewis; "but i say, captain," he added, remonstratively, "i thought you were a sworn enemy to gambling. isn't betting gambling?" "it is, young man," answered the captain, "but i always bet ten thousand pounds sterling, which i never mean to pay if i lose, nor to accept if i win--and that is _not_ gambling. put that in your pipe and smoke it; and if you'll take my advice, you'll go look after your friend slingsby, who is gambolling up yonder in another fashion that will soon bring him to grief if he's not stopped." all eyes were turned towards the mad artist, who, finding that his advances to mademoiselle nita were not well received, had for the time forsaken her, and returned to his first (and professional) love. in wooing her, he had clambered to an almost inaccessible cliff from which he hoped to obtain a very sketchable view of the mer de glace, and, when captain wopper drew attention to him, was making frantic efforts to swing himself by the branch of a tree to a projecting rock, which was so slightly attached to its parent cliff that his weight would in all probability have hurled it and himself down the precipice. the remonstrative shouts of his friends, however, induced him to desist, and he sat down to work in a less perilous position. meanwhile the professor, having completed his preliminary preparations, ordered his assistants to go and "fix the stakes in the ice." it had been arranged that while the scientific experiments were in progress, the young ladies should ramble about the neighbourhood in search of flowers and plants, under the care of lewis, until two o'clock, at which hour all were to assemble at the montanvert hotel for luncheon, captain wopper and lawrence resolving to remain and assist, or at least observe, the professor. the former, indeed, bearing in mind his great and ruling wish even in the midst of scientific doubt and inquiries, had suggested that the latter should also accompany the ladies, the country being somewhat rugged, and the ladies--especially miss emma--not being very sure-footed; but lawrence, to his disappointment, had declined, saying that the ladies had a sufficient protector in the gallant lewis, and that miss emma was unquestionably the surest-footed of the whole party. lawrence therefore remained, and, at the professor's request, accompanied the party who were to fix the stakes on the ice. as this operation was attended with considerable difficulty and some danger, we will describe the process. finding that the spot which he had first chosen for his observations was not a very good one, the professor changed his position to a point farther down on the steep sloping rocks that form the left bank of the glacier des bois. here the theodolite was fixed. this instrument as even our young readers may probably know, is a small telescope attached to a stand with three long legs, and having spirit-levels, by means of which it can be fixed in a position, if we may say so, of exact flatness with reference to the centre of the earth. within the telescope are two crossed hairs of a spider's-web, so fine as to be scarcely visible to the naked eye, and so arranged that their crossing-point is exactly in the centre of the tube. by means of pivots and screws the telescope can be moved up or down, right or left, without in the smallest degree altering the flatness or position of its stand. on looking through the telescope the delicate threads can be distinctly seen, and the point where they cross can be brought to bear on any distant object. having fixed the instrument on the rocks quite clear of the ice, the professor determined the direction of a supposed line perpendicular to the axis of the glacier. he then sought for a conspicuous and well-defined object on the opposite side of the valley, as near as possible to that direction. in this he was greatly helped by captain wopper, who, having been long accustomed to look-out with precision at sea, found it not very difficult to apply his powers on land. "there's a good land-mark, professor," he said, pointing towards a sharply-cut rock, "as like the dook of wellington's nose as two peas." "i see it," said the professor, whose solid and masculine countenance was just the smallest possible degree flushed by the strong under-current of enthusiasm with which he prosecuted his experiments. "you couldn't have a better object than the pint o' that," observed the captain, whose enthusiasm was quite as great as, and his excitement much greater than, that of the professor. having carefully directed the telescope to the extreme point of the "dook's" nose, the professor now ordered one of his assistants to go on the glacier with a stake. lawrence descended with him, and thus planted his foot on glacier-ice for the first time, as lewis afterwards remarked, in the pursuit scientific knowledge. while they were clambering slowly down among the loose boulders and _debris_ which had been left by the glacier in previous years, the professor carefully sketched the duke of wellington's nose with the rocks, etcetera, immediately around it, in his notebook, so that it might be easily recognised again on returning to the spot on a future day. the assistant who had been sent out with the first stake proved to be rather stupid, so that it was fortunate he had been accompanied by lawrence, and by the guide, antoine grennon, who stirred up his perceptions. by rough signalling he was made to stand near the place where the first stake was to be driven in. the telescope was then lowered, and the man was made, by signals, to move about and plant his stake here and there in an upright position until the point of intersection of the spider's threads fell exactly on the bottom of the stake. a pre-arranged signal was then made, and at that point an auger hole was bored deep into the ice and the stake driven home. "so much for number one," said captain wopper, with a look of satisfaction. "they won't fix the other ones so easily," observed the professor, re-examining the stake through the telescope with great care. he was right in this. the first stake had been planted not far from the shore, but now lawrence and his party had to proceed in a straight line over the glacier, which, at this steep portion of its descent into the vale of chamouni, was rent, dislocated, and tortured, to such an extent that it was covered with huge blocks and pinnacles of ice, and seamed with yawning crevasses. to clamber over some of the ice-ridges was almost impossible, and, in order to avoid pinnacles and crevasses, which were quite impassable, frequent _detours_ had to be made. if the object of the ice-party had merely been to cross the glacier, the difficulties would not have been great; but the necessity of always returning to the straight line pointed out by the inexorable theodolite, led them into positions of considerable difficulty. to the inexperienced lawrence they also appeared to be positions of great danger, much to the amusement of antoine, who, accustomed as he was to the fearful ice-slopes and abysses of the higher regions, looked upon this work as mere child's play. "you'll come to have a different notion of crevasses, sir," he said, with a quiet smile, "after you've bin among the seracs of the grand mulet, and up some of the couloirs of monte rosa." "i doubt it not, antoine," said lawrence, gazing with feelings of awe into a terrible split in the ice, whose beautiful light-blue sides deepened into intense blackness as they were lost to vision in an abyss, out of which arose the deep-toned gurgling of sub-glacial streams; "but you must not forget that this is quite new to me, and my feet are not yet aware of the precise grip with which they must hold on to so slippery a foundation." it was in truth no discredit to lawrence that he felt a tendency to shrink from edges of chasms which appeared ready to break off, or walked with caution on ice-slopes which led to unfathomable holes, for the said slopes, although not steep, were undoubtedly slippery. after much clambering, a ridge was at length gained, on which the second stake was set up, and then the party proceeded onwards to fix the third; but now the difficulties proved to be greater than before. a huge block of ice was fixed upon as that which would suit their purpose, but it stood like a peninsula in the very midst of a crevasse, and connected with the main body of ice by a neck which looked as sharp as a knife on its upper edge, so that none but tight-rope or slack-wire dancers could have proceeded along it; and even such performers would have found the edge too brittle to sustain them. "you'll have to show, monsieur, some of your mountaineer skill here?" said the man who carried the stakes to antoine. he spoke in french, which lawrence understood perfectly. we render it as nearly as possible into the counterpart english. antoine at once stepped forward with his alpine axe, and, swinging it vigorously over his head, cut a deep notch on the sloping side of the neck of ice. beyond it he cut a second notch. no man--not even a monkey--could have stood on the glassy slope which descended into the abyss at their side; but antoine, putting one foot in the first notch, and the other in the second, stood as secure as if he had been on a flat rock. again he swung his axe, and planted his foot in a third notch, swinging his axe the instant it was fixed for the purpose of cutting the fourth. thus, cut by cut and step by step, he passed over to the block of ice aimed at. it was but a short neck. a few notches were sufficient, yet without an axe to cut these notches, the place had been absolutely impassable. it was by no means a "dangerous" place, according to the ideas of alpine mountaineers, nevertheless a slip, or the loss of balance, would have been followed by contain death. antoine knew this, and, like a wise guide, took proper precautions. "stay, sir," he said, as lawrence was screwing up his courage to follow him, "i will show you another piece of alpine practice." he returned as he spoke, and, unwinding a coil of rope which he carried, fastened one end thereof round his waist. allowing a few feet of interval, he then fastened the rope round lawrence's waist, and the assistants with the stakes--of whom there were two besides the man already referred to--also attached themselves to the rope in like manner. by this means they all passed over with comparative security, because if any one of them had chanced to slip, the others would have fixed the points of their axes and alpenstocks in the ice and held on until their overbalanced comrade should have been restored to his position. on gaining the block, however, it was found that the line communicating with the theodolite on the one hand, and the dook's nose on the other, just missed it. the professor's signals continued to indicate "more to the left," (_his_ left, that is) until the stake-driver stood on the extreme edge of the crevasse, and his comrades held on tight by the rope to prevent him from falling over. still the professor indicated "more to the left!" as "more to the left" implied the planting of the stake in atmospheric air, they were fain to search for a suitable spot farther on. this they found, after some scrambling, on a serrated ridge whose edge was just wide and strong enough to sustain them. here the exact line was marked, but while the hole was being bored, an ominous crack was heard ascending as if from the heart of the glacier. "what was that?" said lawrence, turning to the guide with a quick surprised look. "only a split in the ice somewhere. it's a common sound enough, as you might expect in a mass that is constantly moving," replied antoine, looking gravely round him, "but i can't help thinking that this lump of ice, with crevasses on each side, is not the best of all spots for fixing a stake. it isn't solid enough." as he spoke, another crash was heard, not quite so loud as the last and at the same moment the whole mass on which the party stood slid forward a few inches. it seemed as if it were about to tumble into the very jaws of the crevasse. with the natural instinct of self-preservation strong upon him, lawrence darted across the narrow ridge to the firm ice in rear, dispensing entirely with that extreme caution which had marked his first passage over it. indeed the tight-rope and slack-wire dancers formerly referred to could not have performed the feat with greater lightness, rapidity, and precision. the stake-drivers followed him with almost similar alacrity. even the guide retraced his steps without further delay than was necessary to permit of his picking up the stakes which their proper custodians had left behind in their alarm--for they were not guides, merely young and inexperienced porters. "for shame, lads," said antoine, laughing and shaking his head, "you'll be but bad specimens of the men of chamouni if you don't learn more coolness on the ice." one would have thought that coolness on the ice was an almost unavoidable consequence of the surrounding conditions, yet lawrence seemed to contradict the idea, for his face appeared unusually warm as he laughed and said:-- "the shame lies with me, antoine, for i set them the example, and all history goes to prove that even brave men are swept away under the influence of a panic which the act of one cowardly man may produce." as lawrence spoke in french, the porters understood and appreciated his defence of them, but antoine would by no means encourage the fallacy. "it is not cowardly, sir," he said, "to spring quickly out of a danger that one don't understand the nature of, but the young men of chamouni have, or ought to have, a good understanding of the nature of ice, and the danger should be great indeed that would necessitate the leaving of their tools behind them." a roar like that of a bull of bashan, or a boatswain, here interrupted the conversation. "don't plant your post the-r-r-re," shouted captain wopper from the banks of the ice-river, "the professor says the ice ain't firm enough. heave ahead--to where its ha-a-ard an' fa-a-ast." "ay, ay, sir," shouted lawrence, with nautical brevity, in reply. the next stake was accordingly fixed on a part of the ice which was obviously incapable of what might be called a local slip, and which must, if it moved at all, do so in accordance with the movements of the entire glacier. thus one by one the stakes were planted in a perfectly straight line, so that when captain wopper was requested by the professor to look through the telescope--which he did with a seaman's readiness and precision--he observed that all the stakes together appeared to form but one stake, the bottom of which was touched on one side of the mer de glace by the centre-point of the crossed threads, and, on the other, by the extreme point of the "dook" of wellington's nose. the last stake had been fixed not many yards distant from the opposite bank of the glacier. "now," said the professor, with a deep sigh of satisfaction when all this was accomplished and noted, "we will go have our luncheon and return hither to-morrow to observe the result of our experiments. but first we must fix the exact position of our theodolite, for unless it occupies to a hair's-breadth to-morrow the same position which it occupies to-day, the result will be quite inconclusive." so saying, the man of science took a little line and plummet from his pocket, which he hung under the theodolite, and the spot where the plummet touched the ground was carefully marked by a small stake driven quite down to its head. thereafter an attempt was made to gather together the scattered party, but this was difficult. owing to various causes several members of it had become oblivious of time. emma had forgotten time in the pursuit of wild-flowers, of which she was excessively fond, partly because she had learned to press and classify and write their proper names under them, but chiefly because they were intrinsically lovely, and usually grew in the midst of beautiful scenery. nita had forgotten it in the pursuit of emma, of whom she had become suddenly and passionately fond, partly because she possessed a loving nature, but chiefly because emma was her counterpart. lewis had forgotten it in pursuit of nita, of whom he had become extremely fond, partly because she was pretty and pert, but chiefly because he--he--well, we cannot say precisely why, seeing that he did not inform us, and did not himself appear clearly to know. slingsby had forgotten it in the ardent effort to reproduce on paper and with pencil, a scene so magnificent that a brush dipped in the rainbow and applied by claude or turner would have utterly failed to do it justice; and last, as well as least, gillie white had forgotten it in the pursuit of general knowledge, in which pursuit he had used his alpenstock effectively in opening up everything, stabbing, knocking down, uprooting, overturning, and generally shattering everything that was capable of being in any degree affected by the physical powers and forces at his command. there can be no doubt whatever that if gillie white had been big and strong enough, mont blanc itself would have succumbed that day to his inquiring mind, and the greatest ice-reservoir of europe would have been levelled with the plain. as it was, he merely levelled himself, after reaching the point of exhaustion, and went to sleep on the sunny side of a rock, where he was nearly roasted alive before being aroused by the shouts of captain wopper. at last, however, the party assembled at the montanvert, where, amid interjectional accounts of the various incidents and adventures of the forenoon, strength was recruited for the subsequent operations of the day. these, however, were only matters of amusement. the professor, remarking jocosely that he now cast science to the dogs and cats (which latter he pronounced cawts), sent his instruments back to chamouni, and, with the zest of a big boy let loose from school, crossed the mer de glace to the chapeau. this feat was by no means so difficult as that which had been accomplished by lawrence. it will be remembered that the spot selected for measurement had been at the steep and rugged part of the ice-river styled the glacier des bois, below the montanvert. the ordinary crossing-place lay considerably higher up, just opposite to the inn. the track had been marked out over the easiest and flattest part of the ice, and levelled here and there where necessary for the special benefit of tourists. still man--even when doing his worst in the way of making rough places plain, and robbing nature of some of her romance--could not do much to damage the grandeur of that impressive spot. his axe only chipped a little of the surface and made the footing secure. it could not mar the beauty of the picturesque surroundings, or dim the sun's glitter on the ice-pinnacles, or taint the purity of these delicate blue depths into which emma and nita gazed for the first time with admiration and surprise while they listened to the mysterious murmurings of sub-glacial waters with mingled feelings of curiosity and awe. full of interest they traversed the grand unfathomable river of ice,-- the product of the compressed snows of innumerable winters,--and, reaching the other side in less than an hour, descended the chapeau through the terminal moraine. those who have not seen it can form but a faint conception of the stupendous mass of _debris_ which is cut, torn, wrenched, carried, swept, hurled, rolled, crushed, and ground down by a glacier from the mountain-heights into the plain below. the terminal moraine of the mer de glace is a whole valley whose floor and sides are not only quite, but deeply, covered with rocks of every shape and size, from a pebble the size of a pea, to a boulder as large as a cottage, all strewn, piled, and heaped together in a wild confusion that is eminently suggestive of the mighty force which cast them there. "to me there do seem something dreadful as well as grand in it," said nita, as she sat down on a boulder beside emma, near the lower end of the chaotic valley. "it is, indeed, terrible," answered emma, "and fills me with wonder when i think that frozen water possesses power so stupendous." "and yet the same element," said the professor, "which, when frozen, thus rends the mountains with force irresistible, when melted flows through the land in gentle fertilising streams. in both forms its power is most wonderful." "like that of him who created it," said emma, in a low tone. the party stood on the margin of a little pond or lakelet that had collected in the midst of the _debris_, and which, by reflecting the clear sky and their figures, with several large boulders on its margin, gave point and a measure of softness to the otherwise confused and rugged scene. while they stood and sat rapt in silent contemplation of the tongue of the mer de glace, at whose tip was the blue ice-cave whence issued the arveiron, a lordly eagle rose from a neighbouring cliff and soared grandly over their heads, while a bright gleam of the sinking sun shot over the white shoulders of mont blanc and lit up the higher end of the valley, throwing the lower part into deeper shade by contrast. "there is a warning to us," said lewis, whose chief interest in the scene lay in the reflection of it that gleamed from nita horetzki's eyes. "which is the warning," asked slingsby, "the gleam of sunshine or the eagle?" "both, for while the sun is going to bed behind the snow, the eagle is doubtless going home to her eyrie, and antoine tells me that it is full three miles from this spot to our hotel in chamouni." it did not take them long to traverse that space, and ere long, like the eagle and the sun, the whole party had retired to rest--the younger members, doubtless, to dreamless slumber; the professor and the captain, probably, to visions of theodolites and ice. although, however, these worthies must needs await the coming day to have their scientific hopes realised, it would be cruel to keep our patient reader in suspense. we may therefore note here that when, on the following day, the theodolite was re-fixed, and the man of science and his amateur friend had applied their respective eyes to the telescope, they were assured beyond a doubt that the stakes _had moved_, some more and some less, while the "dook's nose," of course, remained hard and fast as the rock of which it was composed. the stakes had descended from about one to three feet during the twenty-four hours-- those near the edge having moved least and those near the centre of the ice-river's flow having moved farthest. of course there was a great deal of observing with the theodolite, and careful measuring as well as scrambling on the ice, similar to that of the previous day; but the end of the whole was that the glacier was ascertained to have flowed, definitely and observably down its channel, there could be no doubt whatever about that; the thing had been clearly proved, therefore the professor was triumphant and the captain, being a reasonable man, was convinced. chapter twelve. in which gillie is sagacious, an excursion is undertaken, wondrous sights are seen, and avalanches of more kinds than one are encountered. "susan," said gillie, one morning, entering the private apartment of mrs stoutley's maid with the confidence of a privileged friend, flinging himself languidly into a chair and stretching out his little legs with the air of a rather used-up, though by no means discontented, man, "susan, this is a coorious world--wery coorious--the most coorious i may say that i ever come across." "i won't speak a word to you, gillie," said susan, firmly, "unless you throw that cigar out of the window." "ah, susan, you would not rob me of my mornin' weed, would you?" remonstrated gillie, puffing a long cloud of smoke from his lips as he took from between them the end of a cigar that had been thrown away by some one the night before. "yes, i would, child, you are too young to smoke." "child!" repeated gillie, in a tone of reproach, "too young! why, susan, there's only two years between you an' me--that ain't much, you know, at _our_ time of life." "well, what then? _i_ don't smoke," said susan. "true," returned gillie, with an approving nod, "and, to say truth, i'm pleased to find that you don't. it's a nasty habit in women." "it's an equally nasty habit in boys. now, do as i bid you directly." "when a man is told by the girl he loves to do anythink, he is bound to do it--even if it wor the sheddin' of his blood. susan, your word is law." he turned and tossed the cigar-end out of the window. susan laughingly stooped, kissed the urchin's forehead, and called him a good boy. "now," said she, "what do you mean by sayin' that this is a curious world? do you refer to this part of it, or to the whole of it?" "well, for the matter of that," replied gillie, crossing his legs, and folding his hands over his knee, as he looked gravely up in susan's pretty face, "i means the whole of it, _this_ part included, and the people in it likewise. don't suppose that i go for to exclude myself. we're all coorious, every one on us." "what! me too?" "you? w'y, you are the cooriousest of us all, susan, seeing that you're only a lady's-maid when you're pretty enough to have been a lady--a dutchess, in fact, or somethin' o' that sort." "you are an impudent little thing," retorted susan, with a laugh; "but tell me, what do you find so curious about the people up-stairs?" "why, for one thing, they seem all to have falled in love." "that's not very curious is it?" said susan, quietly; "it's common enough, anyhow." "ah, some kinds of it, yes," returned gillie, with the air of a philosopher, "but at chamouni the disease appears to have become viroolent an' pecoolier. there's the capp'n, _he's_ falled in love wi' the professor, an' it seems to me that the attachment is mootooal. then mister lewis has falled in love with madmysell nita hooray-tskie (that's a sneezer, ain't it), an' the mad artist, as mister lewis call him, has falled in love with her too, poor feller, an' miss nita has falled in love with miss emma, an miss emma, besides reciprocatin' that passion, has falled in love with the flowers and the scenery--gone in for it wholesale, so to speak--and dr lawrence, _he_ seems to have falled in love with everybody all round; anyhow everybody has falled in love with _him_, for he's continually goin' about doin' little good turns wherever he gits the chance, without seemin' to intend it, or shovin' hisself to the front. in fact i do think he _don't_ intend it, but only can't help it; just the way he used to be to my old mother and the rest of us in grubb's court. and i say, susan," here gillie looked very mysterious, and dropped his voice to a whisper, "miss emma has falled in love with _him_." "nonsense, child! how is it possible that _you_ can tell that?" said susan. the boy nodded his head with a look of preternatural wisdom, and put his forefinger to the side of his nose. "ah," said he, "yes, i can't explain _how_ it is that i knows it, but i _do_ know it. bless you, susan, i can see through a four-inch plank in thick weather without the aid of a gimlet hole. you may believe it or not, but i know that miss emma has falled in love with dr lawrence, but whether dr lawrence has failed in love with miss emma is more than i can tell. that plank is at least a six-inch one, an' too much for my wision. but have a care, susan, don't mention wot i've said to a single soul--livin' or dead. miss emma is a modest young woman, she is, an' would rather eat her fingers off, rings and all, than let her feelin's be known. i see that 'cause she fights shy o' dr lawrence, rather too shy of 'im, i fear, for secrecy. why he doesn't make up to _her_ is a puzzle that _i_ don't understand, for she'd make a good wife, would miss emma, an' dr lawrence may live to repent of it, if he don't go in and win." susan looked with mingled surprise and indignation at the precocious little creature who sat before her giving vent to his opinions as coolly as if he were a middle-aged man. after contemplating him for a few moments in silence, she expressed her belief that he was a conceited little imp, to venture to speak of his young mistress in that way. "i wouldn't do it to any one but yourself, susan," he said, in no wise abashed, "an' i hope you appreciate my confidence." "don't talk such nonsense, child, but go on with what you were speaking about," rejoined susan, with a smile, to conceal which she bent down her head as she plied her needle briskly on one of emma's mountain-torn dresses. "well, where was i?" continued gillie, "ah, yes. then, lord what's-'is-name, _he's_ falled in love with the mountain-tops, an' is for ever tryin' to get at 'em, in which he would succeed, for he's a plucky young feller, if it worn't for that snob--who's got charge of 'im--mister lumbard--whose pecooliarity lies in preferrin' every wrong road to the right one. as i heard mr lewis say the other day, w'en i chanced to be passin' the keyhole of the sallymanjay, `he'd raither go up to the roof of a 'ouse by the waterspout than the staircase,' just for the sake of boastin' of it." "and is mr lumbard in love with any one?" asked susan. "of course he is," answered gillie, "he's in love with hisself. he's always talkin' of hisself, an' praisin' hisself, an' boastin' of hisself an' what he's done and agoin' to do. he's plucky enough, no doubt, and if there wor a lightnin'-conductor runnin' to top of mount blang, i do b'lieve he'd try to--to--lead his lordship up _that_; but he's too fond of talkin' an' swaggerin' about with his big axe, an' wearin' a coil of rope on his shoulder when he ain't goin' nowhere. bah! i don't like him. what do you think, susan, i met him on the road the other evenin' w'en takin' a stroll by myself down near the glassyer day bossong, an' i says to him, quite in a friendly way, `bong joor,' says i, which is french, you know, an' what the natives here says when they're in good humour an' want to say `good-day,' `all serene,' `how are you off for soap?' an' suchlike purlitenesses. well, would you believe it, he went past without takin' no notice of me whatsumdever." "how _very_ impolite," said susan, "and what did you do?" "do," cried gillie, drawing himself up, "why, i cocked my nose in the air and walked on without disdainin' to say another word--treated 'im with suvrin contempt. but enough of _him_--an' more than enough. well, to continue, then there's missis stoutley, she's falled in love too." "indeed?" "yes, with wittles. the count hur--what's-'is-name, who's always doin' the purlite when he's not mopin', says it's the mountain hair as is agreein' with her, but i think its the hair-soup. anyhow she's more friendly with her wittles here than she ever was in england. after comin' in from that excursion where them two stout fellers carried her up the mountains, an' all but capsized her and themselves, incloodin' the chair, down a precipice, while passin' a string o' mules on a track no broader than the brim of mister slingsby's wide-awake, she took to her wittles with a sort of lovin' awidity that an't describable. the way she shovelled in the soup, an' stowed away the mutton chops, an' pitched into the pease and taters, to say nothing of cauliflower and cutlets, was a caution to the billions. it made my mouth water to look at her, an' my eyes too--only that may have had somethin' to do with the keyhole, for them 'otels of chamouni are oncommon draughty. yes," continued gillie, slowly, as if he were musing, "she's failed in love with wittles, an' it's by no means a misplaced affection. it would be well for the count if he could fall in the same direction. did you ever look steadily at the count, susan?" "i can't say i ever did; at least not more so than at other people. why?" "because, if you ever do look at him steadily, you'll see care a-sittin' wery heavy on his long yeller face. there's somethin' the matter with that count, either in 'is head or 'is stummick, i ain't sure which; but, whichever it is, it has descended to his darter, for that gal's face is too anxious by half for such a young and pretty one. i have quite a sympathy, a sort o' feller-feelin', for that count. he seems to me the wictim of a secret sorrow." susan looked at her small admirer with surprise, and then burst into a hearty laugh. "you're a queer boy, gillie." to an unsophisticated country girl like susan quick, the london street-boy must indeed have seemed a remarkable being. he was not indeed an absolute "arab," being the son of an honest hardworking mother, but being also the son of a drunken, ill-doing father, he had, in the course of an extensive experience of bringing his paternal parent home from gin-palaces and low theatres, imbibed a good deal of the superficial part of the "waif" character, and, but for the powerful and benign influence of his mother, might have long ago entered the ranks of our criminal population. as it was, he had acquired a knowledge of "the world" of london--its thoughts, feelings, and manners--which rendered him in susan's eyes a perfect miracle of intelligence; and she listened to his drolleries and precocious wisdom with open-mouthed admiration. of course the urchin was quite aware of this, and plumed himself not a little on his powers of attraction. "yes," continued gillie, without remarking on susan's observation that he was a "queer boy," for he esteemed that a compliment "the count is the only man among 'em who hasn't falled in love with nothink or nobody. but tell me, susan, is _your_ fair buzzum free from the--the tender-- you know what?" "oh! yes," laughed the maid, "quite free." "ah!" said gillie, with a sigh of satisfaction, "then there's hope for _me_." "of course there is plenty of hope," said susan, laughing still more heartily as she looked at the thing in blue and buttons which thus addressed her. "but now, tell me, where are they talking of going to-day?" "to the jardang," replied gillie. "it was putt off to please the young ladies t'other day, and now it's putt on to please the professor. it seems to me that the professor has got well to wind'ard of 'em all--as the cappen would say; he can twirl the whole bilin' of 'em round his little finger with his outlandish talk, which i believe is more than half nonsense. hows'ever, he's goin' to take 'em all to the jardang, to lunch there, an' make some more obserwations and measurements of the ice. why he takes so much trouble about sitch a trifle, beats _my_ understandin'. if the ice is six feet, or six hundred feet thick, what then? if it moves, or if it don't move, wot's the odds, so long as yer 'appy? if it _won't_ move, w'y don't they send for a company of london bobbies and make 'em tell it to `move on,' it couldn't refuse, you know, for nothin' can resist that. hows'ever, they are all goin' to foller the lead of the professor again to-day--them that was with 'em last time--not the count though, for i heard him say (much to the distress apperiently of his darter) that he was goin' on business to marteeny, over the tait nwar, though what that is _i_ don't know--a mountain, i suppose. they're all keen for goin' _over_ things in this country, an' some of 'em goes _under_ altogether in the doin' of it. if i ain't mistaken, that pleasant fate awaits lord what's-'is-name an' mr lumbard, for i heard the cappen sayin', just afore i come to see you, that he was goin' to take his lordship to the main truck of mount blang by way of the signal halliards, in preference to the regular road." "are the young ladies going?" asked susan. "of course they are, from w'ich it follers that mr lewis an' the mad artist are goin' too." "and mrs stoutley?" asked susan. "_no_; it's much too far and difficult for her." "gillie, gillie!" shouted a stentorian voice at this point in the conversation. "ay, ay, cappen," yelled gillie, in reply. rising and thrusting his hands into his pockets, he sauntered leisurely from the room, recommending the captain, in an undertone, to save his wind for the mountainside. not long afterwards, the same parties that had accompanied the professor to the montanvert were toiling up the mer de glace, at a considerable distance above the scene of their former exploits, on their way to the jardin. the day was all that could be desired. there were a few clouds, but these were light and feathery; clear blue predominated all over the sky. over the masses of the jorasses and the peaks of the geant, the aiguille du dru, the slopes of mont mallet, the pinnacles of charmoz, and the rounded white summit of mont blanc--everywhere--the heavens were serene and beautiful. the jardin, towards which they ascended, lies like an island in the midst of the glacier du talefre. it is a favourite expedition of travellers, being a verdant gem on a field of white--a true oasis in the desert of ice and snow--and within a five hours' walk of chamouni. their route lay partly on the moraines and partly over the surface of the glacier. on their previous visit to the mer de glace, those of the party to whom the sight was new imagined that they had seen all the wonders of the glacier world. they were soon undeceived. while at the montanvert on their first excursion, they could turn their eyes from the sea of ice to the tree-clad slopes behind them, and at the chapeau could gaze on a splendid stretch of the vale of chamouni to refresh their eyes when wearied with the rugged cataract of the glacier des bois; but as they advanced slowly up into the icy solitudes, all traces of the softer world were lost to view. only ice and snow lay around them. ice under foot, ice on the cliffs, ice in the mountain valleys, ice in the higher gorges, and snow on the summits,--except where these latter were so sharp and steep that snow could not find a lodgment. there was nothing in all the field of vision to remind them of the vegetable world from which they had passed as if by magic. as lewis remarked, they seemed to have been suddenly transported to within the arctic circle, and got lost among the ice-mountains of spitzbergen or nova zembla. "it is magnificent!" exclaimed nita horetzki with enthusiasm, as she paused on the summit of an ice-ridge, up the slippery sides of which she had been assisted by antoine grennon, who still held her little hand in his. ah, thoughtless man! he little knew what daggers of envy were lacerating the heart of the mad artist who would have given all that he possessed-- colour-box and camp-stool included--to have been allowed to hold that little hand even for a few seconds! indeed he had, in a fit of desperation, offered to aid her by taking the other hand when half-way up that very slope, but had slipped at the moment of making the offer and rolled to the bottom. lewis, seeing the fate of his rival, wisely refrained from putting himself in a false position by offering any assistance, excusing his apparent want of gallantry by remarking that if he were doomed to slip into a crevasse he should prefer not to drag another along with him. antoine, therefore, had the little hand all to himself. the professor, being a somewhat experienced ice-man, assisted emma in all cases of difficulty. as for the captain, gillie, and lawrence, they had quite enough to do to look after themselves. "how different from what i had expected," said emma, resting a hand on the shoulder of nita; "it is a very landscape of ice." emma's simile was not far-fetched. they had reached a part of the glacier where the slope and the configuration of the valley had caused severe strains on the ice in various directions, so that there were not only transverse crevasses but longitudinal cracks, which unitedly had cut up the ice into blocks of all shapes and sizes. these, as their position shifted, had become isolated, more or less,--and being partially melted by the sun, had assumed all sorts of fantastic shapes. there were ice-bridges, ice-caves, and ice obelisks and spires, some of which latter towered to a height of fifty feet or more; there were also forms suggestive of cottages and trees, with here and there real rivulets rippling down their icy beds, or leaping over pale blue ledges, or gliding into blue-green lakes, or plunging into black-blue chasms. the sun-light playing among these silvery realms--glinting over edges and peaks, blazing on broad masses, shimmering through semi-transparent cliffs, and casting soft grey shadows everywhere--was inexpressibly beautiful, while the whole, looming through a thin golden haze, seemed to be of gigantic proportions. it seemed as if the region of ice around them must at one time have been in tremendous convulsions, but the professor assured them that this was not the case, that the formation of crevasses and those confused heaps of ice called _seracs_ was a slow and prolonged process. "doubtless," he said, "you have here and there the wild rush of avalanches, and suchlike convulsions, but the rupture of the great body of the ice is gradual. a crevasse is an almost invisible crack at first. it yawns slowly and takes a long time to open out to the dimensions and confusion which you see around." "what are those curious things?" asked nita, pointing to some forms before her. "they look like giant mushrooms," said captain wopper. "they are ice-tables," answered antoine. "blocks of stone on the top of cones of ice," said the professor. "come, we will go near and examine one." the object in question was well suited to cause surprise, for it was found to be an enormous flat mass of rock, many tons in weight, perched on a pillar of ice and bearing some resemblance to a table with a central leg. "now," said captain wopper emphatically, "that _is_ a puzzler. how did it ever get up there?" "i have read of such tables," said lawrence. "they are the result of the sun's action, i believe." "oh, it's all very well, lawrence," said lewis, with a touch of sarcasm, "to talk in a vague way about the sun's action, but it's quite plain, even to an unphilosophical mind like mine, that the sun can't lift a block of stone some tons in weight and clap it on the top of a pillar of ice about ten feet high." "nevertheless the sun has done it," returned lawrence. "am i not right professor?" the man of science, who had listened with a bland smile on his broad countenance, admitted that lawrence was right. "at first," he said, "that big stone fell from the cliffs higher up the valley, and it has now been carried down thus far by the ice. during its progress the sun has been shining day by day and melting the surface of the ice all round, with the exception of that part which was covered by the rock. thus the general level of the ice has been lowered and the protected portion left prominent with its protector on the top. the sides of the block of ice on which the rock has rested have also melted slowly, reducing it to the stalk or pillar which you now see. in time it will melt so much that the rock will slide off, fall on another part of the ice, which it will protect from the sun as before until another stem shall support it, and thus it will go on until it tumbles into a crevasse, reaches the under part of the glacier, perhaps there gets rolled and rounded into a boulder, and finally is discharged, many years hence, it may be, into the terminal moraine; or, perchance, it may get stranded on the sides of the valley among the _debris_ or rubbish which we call the lateral moraine." as the party advanced, new, and, if possible; still more striking objects met the eye, while mysterious sounds struck the ear. low grumbling noises and gurglings were heard underfoot, as if great boulders were dropping into buried lakes from the roofs of sub-glacial caverns, while, on the surface, the glacier was strewn here and there with _debris_ which had fallen from steep parts of the mountains that rose beside them into the clouds. sudden rushing sounds--as if of short-lived squalls, in the midst of which were crashes like the thunder of distant artillery--began now to attract attention, and a feeling of awe crept into the hearts of those of the party who were strangers to the ice-world. sounds of unseen avalanches, muffled more or less according to distance, were mingled with what may be called the shots of the boulders, which fell almost every five minutes from the aiguille verte and other mountains, and there was something deeply impressive in the solemn echoes that followed each deep-toned growl, and were repeated until they died out in soft murmurs. as the party crossed an ice-plain, whose surface was thickly strewn with the wreck of mountains, a sense of insecurity crept into the feelings of more than one member of it but not a word was said until a sudden and tremendous crash, followed by a continuous roar, was heard close at hand. "an avalanche!" shouted slingsby, pointing upwards, and turning back with the evident intention to fly. it did indeed seem the wisest thing that man or woman could do in the circumstances, for, high up among the wild cliffs, huge masses of rock, mingled with ice, dirt, water, and snow, were seen rushing down a "couloir," or steep gully, straight towards them. "rest tranquil where you are," said the guide, laying his hand on the artist's arm; "the couloir takes a bend, you see, near the bottom. there is no danger." thus assured, the whole of the party stood still and gazed upward. owing to the great height from which the descending mass was pouring, the inexperienced were deceived as to the dimensions of the avalanche. it seemed at first as if the boulders were too small to account for the sounds created, but in a few seconds their real proportions became more apparent, especially when the whole rush came straight towards the spot on which the travellers stood with such an aspect of being fraught with inevitable destruction, that all of them except the guide shrank involuntarily backwards. at this crisis the chaotic mass was driven with terrible violence against the cliffs to the left of the couloir, and bounding, we might almost say fiercely, to the right, rushed out upon the frozen plain about two hundred yards in advance of the spot on which they stood. "is there not danger in being so close to such places?" asked lewis, glancing uneasily at nita, whose flashing eyes and heightened colour told eloquently of the excitement which the sight had aroused in her breast. "not much," answered the professor, "no doubt we cannot be said to be in a place of absolute safety, nevertheless the danger is not great, because we can generally observe the avalanches in time to get out of the way of spent shots; and, besides, if we run under the lea of such boulders as _that_, we are quite safe, unless it were to be hit by one pretty nearly as large as itself." he pointed as he spoke to a mass of granite about the size of an omnibus, which lay just in front of them. "but i see," he added, laughing, "that antoine thinks this is not a suitable place for the delivery of lectures; we must hasten forward." soon they surmounted the steeps of the glacier du talefre, and reached the object of their desire, the jardin. it is well named. a wonderful spot of earth and rock which rises out of the midst of a great basin of half-formed ice, the lower part being covered with green sward and spangled with flowers, while the summit of the rock forms a splendid out-look from which to view the surrounding scene. here, seated on the soft grass--the green of which was absolutely delicious to the eyes after the long walk over the glaring ice--the jovial professor, with a sandwich in one hand and a flask of _vin ordinaire_ in the other, descanted on the world of ice. he had a willing audience, for they were all too busy with food to use their tongues in speech, except in making an occasional brief demand or comment. "glorious!" exclaimed the professor. "which, the view or the victuals?" asked lewis. "both," cried the professor, helping himself to another half-dozen sandwiches. "thank you--no more at present," said nita to the disappointed slingsby, who placed the rejected limb of a fowl on his own plate with a deep sigh. "professor," said nita, half-turning her back on the afflicted artist, "how, when, and where be all this ice formed?" "a comprehensive question!" cried the professor. "thank you--yes, a wing and a leg; also, if you can spare it, a piece of the--ah! so, you are right. the whole fowl is best. i can then help myself. miss gray, shall i assist you to a--no? well, as i was about to remark, in reply to your comprehensive question, mademoiselle, this basin, in which our jardin lies, may be styled a mighty collector of the material which forms that great tributary of the mer de glace, named the glacier du talefre. this material is called neve." "an' what's nevy?" asked captain wopper, as well as a full mouth would allow him. "neve," replied the professor, "is snow altered by partial melting, and freezing, and compression--snow in the process of being squeezed into ice. you must know that there is a line on all high mountains which is called the snow-line. above this line, the snow that falls each year _never_ disappears; below it the snow, and ice too, undergoes the melting process continually. the portion below the snow-line is always being diminished; that above it is always augmenting; thus the loss of the one is counterbalanced by the gain of the other; and thus the continuity of glaciers is maintained. that part of a glacier which lies above the snow-line is styled neve; it is the fountain-head and source of supply to the glacier proper, which is the part that lies below the snow-line. sometimes, for a series of years, perhaps, the supply from above is greater than the diminution below, the result being that the snout of a glacier advances into its valley, ploughs up the land, and sometimes overturns the cottages. [see note .] on the other hand the reverse process goes on, it may be for years, and a glacier recedes somewhat, leaving a whole valley of _debris_, or terminal moraine, which is sometimes, after centuries perhaps, clothed with vegetation and dotted with cottages." "this basin, or collector of neve, on whose beautiful oasis i have the felicity to lunch in such charming society (the jovial professor bowed to the ladies), is, according to your talented professor forbes (he bowed to lawrence), about four thousand two hundred yards wide, and all the ice it contains is, farther down, squeezed through a gorge not more than seven hundred yards wide, thus forming that grand ice-cascade of the talefre which you have seen on the way hither. it is a splendid, as well as interesting amphitheatre, for it is bounded, as you see, on one side by the grandes jorasses, on the other by mont mallet, while elsewhere you have the vast plateau whence the glacier du geant is fed; the aiguille du geant, the aiguille noire, the montagnes mandites, and mont blanc. another wing, if you please--ah, finished? no matter, pass the loaf. it will do as well." the professor devoted himself for some minutes in silence to the loaf, which was much shorn of its proportions on leaving his hand. like many great men, he was a great eater. the fires of intellect that burned within him seemed to require a more than ordinary supply of fuel. he slept, too, like an infant hercules, and, as a natural consequence, toiled like a giant when awake. little gillie white regarded him with feelings of undisguised awe, astonishment and delight, and was often sorely perplexed within himself as to whether he or captain wopper was the greater man. both were colossal in size and energetic in body, and both were free and easy in manners, as well as good-humoured. no doubt, as gillie argued with himself (and sometimes with susan), the professor was uncommon larned an' deep, but then the captain had a humorous vein, which fully counterbalanced that in gillie's estimation. the philosophic urchin was deeply engaged in debating this point with himself, and gazing open-mouthed at the professor, when there suddenly occurred an avalanche so peculiar and destructive that it threw the whole party into the utmost consternation. while removing a pile of plates, gillie, in his abstraction, tripped on a stone, tumbled over the artist, crushed that gentleman's head into nita's lap, and, descending head foremost, plates and all, into the midst of the feast, scattered very moraine of crockery and bottles all round. it was an appalling smash, and when the captain seized gillie by the back of his trousers with one hand and lifted him tenderly out of the midst of the _debris_, the limp way in which he hung suggested the idea that a broken bottle must have penetrated his vitals and finished him. it was not so, however. gillie's sagacity told him that he would probably be wounded if he were to move. he wisely, therefore, remained quite passive, and allowed himself to be lifted out of danger. "nobody hurt, i 'ope," he said, on being set on his legs; "it was a awk'ard plunge." "awk'ard? you blue spider," cried the captain; "you deserve to be keel-hauled, or pitched into a crevasse. look alive now, an' clear up the mess you've made." fortunately the feast was about concluded when this _contretemps_ occurred, so that no serious loss was sustained. some of the gentlemen lighted their pipes and cigars, to solace themselves before commencing the return journey. the ladies went off to saunter and to botanise, and slingsby attempted to sketch the scenery. and here again, as on the previous excursion, captain wopper received a chill in regard to his matrimonial hopes. when the ladies rose, lewis managed to engage nita in an interesting conversation on what he styled the flora of central europe, and led her away. emma was thus left without her companion. now, thought the captain, there's your chance, dr lawrence, go in and win! but lawrence did not avail himself of the chance. he suffered emma to follow her friend, and remained behind talking with the professor on the vexed subject of the cause of glacial motion. "most extraor'nary," thought the captain, somewhat nettled, as well as disappointed. "what can the youngster mean? she's as sweet a gal as a fellow would wish to see, an' yet he don't pay no more attention to her than if she was an old bumboat 'ooman. very odd. can't make it out nohow!" captain wopper was not the first, and will _certainly_ not be the last, to experience difficulty in accounting for the conduct of young men and maidens in this world of cross-currents and queer fancies. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . such is actually true at the present time of the gorner glacier, which has for a long time been advancing, and, during the last sixty years or so, has overturned between forty and fifty chalets. chapter thirteen. shows what dangers may be encountered in the pursuit of art and science. who has not experienced the almost unqualified pleasure of a walk, on a bright beautiful morning, before breakfast? how amply it repays one for the self-denying misery of getting up! we say misery advisedly, for it is an undoubted, though short-lived, agony, that of arousing one's inert, contented, and peaceful frame into a state of activity. there is a moment in the daily life of man--of some men, at least--when heroism of a very high stamp is displayed; that moment when, the appointed hour of morning having arrived, he thrusts one lethargic toe from under the warm bed-clothes into the relatively cold atmosphere of his chamber. if the toe is drawn back, the man is nobody. if it is thrust further out, and followed up by the unwilling body, the man is a hero! the agony, however, like that of tooth-drawing, is soon over, and the delightful commendations of an approving conscience are superadded to the pleasures of an early morning walk. such pleasures were enjoyed one morning by emma gray and nita horetzki and lewis stoutley, when, at an early hour, they issued from their hotel, and walked away briskly up the vale of chamouni. "i say, emma, isn't it a charming, delicious, and outrageously delightful day!" exclaimed lewis. although the young man addressed himself to his cousin, who walked on his left, he glanced at nita, who walked on his right, and thus, with a sense of justice peculiarly his own, divided his attentions equally between them. "you are unusually enthusiastic, cousin," said emma, with a laugh. "i thought you said last night that weather never affected you?" "true, but there is more than weather here, there is scenery, and--and sunshine." "sunshine?" repeated nita, lifting her large orbs to his face with a look of surprise, for although the sun may be said to have risen as regards the world at large, it had not yet surmounted the range of mont blanc, or risen to the inhabitants of chamouni. "i not see it; where is the sunshine?" "there!" exclaimed lewis, mentally, as he gazed straight down into her wondering orbs, and then added aloud, as he swept his arm aloft with a mock-heroic air, "behold it gleaming on the mountain-ridges." there is no doubt that the enthusiasm of lewis as to the weather, scenery, and sunshine would have been much reduced, perhaps quenched altogether, if nita had not been there, for the youth was steeped in that exquisite condition termed first love,--the very torments incident to which are moderated joys,--but it must not be supposed that he conducted himself with the maudlin sentimentality not unfrequently allied to that condition. although a mischievous and, we are bound to admit, a reckless youth, he was masculine in his temperament, and capable of being deeply, though not easily, stirred into enthusiasm. it was quite in accordance with this nature that his jesting tone and manner suddenly vanished as his gaze became riveted on the ridge to which he had carelessly directed attention. even nita was for a moment forgotten in the sight that met his eyes, for the trees and bushes which crowned the ridge were to all appearance composed of solid fire! "did you ever see anything like that before emma?" he asked, eagerly. "never; i have seen sunrises and sunsets in many parts of our own land, but nothing at all like that; what _can_ be the cause of it?" there was good reason for the wonder thus called forth, for the light was not on the trees but _behind_ them. the sun had not quite risen, but was very near the summit of the ridge, so that these trees and bushes were pictured, as it were, against the brightest part of the glowing sky. in such circumstances we are taught by ordinary experience that objects will be unusually dark, but these trees were incomparably brighter than the glowing sky itself. it was not that their mere edges were tipped with fire, but their entire substance, even to the central core of the pine-stems, was to all appearance made of pure light, as if each tree and shrub had been made of steel raised to a condition of intense white heat. no shining of the sun through or upon trees can convey the slightest idea of the sight. it was something absolutely new to our travellers, and roused their astonishment as well as wonder to the highest pitch. "oh!" exclaimed nita, clasping her hands with a force peculiar to her demonstrative nature, "how wonderful! how i do wish the professor was here to tell us how and what it be." that evening the professor, who had observed the phenomenon more than once, told them all he knew about it. there were differences of opinion, he said, as to the cause, for men of physical science, not less than doctors, were prone to differ. for himself, he had only noted the facts and knew not the cause. the luminous trees appeared only at that part of the ridge where the sun was _just going_ to rise--elsewhere the trees were projected as dark objects, in the usual way, against the bright sky. not only were the trees thus apparently self-luminous, but when birds chanced to be flying amongst them, they had the appearance of sparks of molten silver flitting to and fro. see note . "but you have not yet told me, ladies," said lewis, as they resumed their walk, "what has induced you to indulge in so early a ramble to-day?" "can you not imagine," said nita, "that it is the love of nature?" "undoubtedly i can; but as this is the first time since we came that you have chosen to display a love for nature before breakfast, i may be forgiven for supposing there is another and no doubt secondary cause." "you are right," said emma; "were you not present last night when we discussed our plans for to-day?" "no, he was in the verandah," interposed nita, with an arch smile, "indulging that savage and unintellectual taste you call smoking." "ah, mademoiselle, be not too severe. it may not, indeed, be styled an intellectual pursuit, but neither, surely, can it be called savage, seeing that it softens and ameliorates the rugged spirit of man." "it is savage," returned nita, "because you do not encourage ladies to join you in it." "pardon me, mademoiselle," cried lewis, pulling out his cigar-case, "nothing would gratify me more than your acceptance of--" "insult me not, monsieur," said nita, with a toss of her pretty little head, "but reply to your cousin's question." "ah, to be sure, well--let me see, what was it? was i present when the plans for the day were arranged? yes i was, but i missed the first part of the conversation, having been, as mademoiselle horetzki truly observes, occupied with that--a--" "savage habit," interposed nita. "savage habit," said lewis, "the savage element of which i am willing to do away with at a moment's notice when desired. i merely heard that the professor had fixed to go on the glacier for the purpose of measuring it, as though it were a badly clad giant, and he a scientific tailor who had undertaken to make a top-coat for it. i also heard that you two had decided on a walk before breakfast, and, not caring to do tailoring on the ice, i begged leave to join you--therefore i am here." "ah, you prefer woman's society and safety to manly exercise and danger!" said nita. although lewis was, as we have said, by no means an effeminate youth, he was at that age when the male creature shrinks from the slightest imputation of a lack of manliness. he coloured, therefore, as he laughingly replied that in his humble opinion his present walk involved the manly exercise of moral courage in withstanding shafts of sarcasm, which were far more dangerous in his eyes than hidden crevasses or flying boulders. "but you both forget," interposed emma, "that i have not yet explained the object of our morning walk." "true, cousin, let us have it." "well," continued emma, "when you were engages in your `savage' indulgence, a difficulty stood in the way of the professor's plans, inasmuch as our guide antoine had asked and obtained leave to absent himself a couple of days for the purpose of taking his wife and child over the country to pay a short visit to a relative in some valley, the name of which i forget. antoine had said that he would be quite willing to give up his leave of absence if a messenger were sent to inform his wife of his change of plan, and to ask a certain baptist le croix, who lives close beside her, to be her guide. as we two did not mean to join the ice-party, we at once offered to be the messengers. hence our present expedition at so early an hour. after seeing madame antoine grennon and having breakfast we mean to spend the day in sketching." "may i join you in this after-portion of the day's work?" asked lewis. "i may not, indeed, claim to use the pencil with the facility of our friend slingsby, but i am not altogether destitute of a little native talent in that way. i will promise to give you both as many cigars as you choose, and will submit my sketches to mademoiselle's criticism, which will be incurring extreme danger." "well, you may come," said nita, with a condescending nod, "but pray fulfil the first part of your promise, give me the cigars." lewis drew them out with alacrity, and laughingly asked, "how many?" "all of them; the case also." in some surprise the youth put the cigar-case into her hand, and she immediately flung it into a neighbouring pool. "ah, how cruel," said lewis, putting on a most forlorn look, while emma gave vent to one of her subdued little explosions of laughter. "what! is our society not enough for monsieur?" asked nita, in affected surprise. "_more_ than enough," replied lewis, with affected enthusiasm. "then you can be happy without your cigars," returned nita. "perfectly happy," replied lewis, taking a small case from his pocket, from which he extracted a neat little meerschaum pipe, and began to fill it with tobacco. again emma had occasion to open the safety-valve of another little explosive laugh; but before anything further could be said, they came in sight of antoine grennon's cottage. it was prettily situated beneath a clump of pines. a small stream, spanned by a rustic bridge, danced past it. under the shadow of the bridge they saw madame engaged in washing linen. she had a washing-tub, of course, but instead of putting the linen into this she put herself in it, after having made an island of it by placing it a few inches deep in the stream. thus she could kneel and get at the water conveniently without wetting her knees or skirts. on a sloping slab of wood she manipulated the linen with such instrumentality as cold water, soap, a wooden mallet and a hard brush. beside her, in a miniature tub, her little daughter conducted a miniature washing. the three travellers, looking over the bridge, could witness the operation without being themselves observed. "it is a lively process," remarked lewis, as madame seized a mass of linen with great vigour, and caused it to fall on the sloping plank with a sounding slap. madame was an exceedingly handsome and well-made woman, turned thirty, and much inclined to _embonpoint_. her daughter was turned three, and still more inclined to the same condition. their rounded, well-shaped, and muscular arms, acted very much in the same way, only madame's vigour was a good deal more intense and persistent--too much so, perhaps, for the fabrics with which she had to deal; but if the said fabrics possessed the smallest degree of consciousness, they could not have had the heart to complain of rough treatment from such neat though strong hands, while being smiled upon by such a pretty, though decisive countenance. "it is dreadfully rough treatment," said emma, whose domestic-economical spirit was rather shocked. "terrible!" exclaimed nita, as madame gripped another article of apparel and beat it with her mallet as though it had been the skull of her bitterest enemy, while soap-suds and water spurted from it as if they had been that enemy's brains. "and she washes, i believe, for our hotel," said emma, with a slightly troubled expression. perhaps a thought of her work-box and buttons flashed across her mind at the moment. "you are right," said lewis, with a pleased smile. "i heard antoine say to gillie, the other day, that his wife washed a large portion of the hotel linen. no doubt some of ours is amongst it. indeed i am sure of it," he added, with a look of quiet gravity, as madame grennon seized another article, swished it through the water, caused it to resound on the plank, and scrubbed it powerfully with soap; "that a what's-'is-name, belongs to me. i know it by the cut of its collar. formerly, i used to know it chiefly by its fair and fragile texture. i shall know it hereafter as an amazing illustration of the truth of the proverb, that no one knows what he can stand till he is tried. the blows which she is at present delivering to it with her mallet, are fast driving all preconceived notions in regard to linen out of my head. scrubbing it, as she does now, with a hard brush, against the asperities of the rough plank, and then twisting it up like a roly-poly prior to swishing it through the water a second time, would once have induced me to doubt the strength of delicate mother-of-pearl buttons and fine white thread. i shall doubt no longer." as he said so, madame grennon chanced to look up, and caught sight of the strangers. she rose at once, and, forsaking her tub, advanced to meet them, the curly-haired daughter following close at her heels, for, wherever her mother went she followed, and whatever her mother did she imitated. the object of the visit was soon explained, and the good woman led the visitors into her hut where baptist le croix chanced to be at the time. there was something very striking in the appearance of this man. he was a tall fine-looking fellow, a little past the prime of life, but with a frame whose great muscular power was in no degree abated. his face was grave, good-natured, and deeply sunburnt; but there was a peculiarly anxious look about the eyes, and a restless motion in them, as if he were constantly searching for something which he could not find. he willingly undertook to conduct his friend's wife and child to the residence of their relative. on leaving the hut to return to chamouni, madame grennon accompanied her visitors a short way, and nita took occasion, while expressing admiration of baptist's appearance, to comment on his curiously anxious look. "ah! mademoiselle," said madame, with a half sad look, "the poor man is taken up with a strange notion--some people call it a delusion--that gold is to be found somewhere here in the mountains." "gold?" cried nita, with such energy that her companions looked at her in surprise. "why, nita," exclaimed emma, "your looks are almost as troubled and anxious as those of le croix himself." "how strange!" said nita, musing and paying no attention to emma's remark. "why does he think so?" "indeed, mademoiselle, i cannot tell; but he seems quite sure of it, and spends nearly all his time in the mountains searching for gold, and hunting the chamois." they parted here, and for a time lewis tried to rally nita about what he styled her sympathy with the chamois-hunter, but nita did not retort with her wonted sprightliness; the flow of her spirits was obviously checked, and did not return during their walk back to the hotel. while this little incident was enacting in the valley, events of a far different nature were taking place among the mountains, into the solitudes of which the professor, accompanied by captain wopper, lawrence, slingsby, and gillie, and led by antoine, had penetrated for the purpose of ascertaining the motion of a huge precipice of ice. "you are not a nervous man, i think," said the professor to antoine as they plodded over the ice together. "no, monsieur, not very," answered the guide, with a smile and a sly glance out of the corners of his eyes. captain wopper laughed aloud at the question, and gillie grinned. gillie's countenance was frequently the residence of a broad grin. nature had furnished him with a keen sense of the ludicrous, and a remarkably open countenance. human beings are said to be blind to their own peculiarities. if gillie had been an exception to this rule and if he could have, by some magical power, been enabled to stand aside and look at his own spider-like little frame, as others saw it, clad in blue tights and buttons, it is highly probable that he would have expired in laughing at himself. "i ask the question," continued the professor, "because i mean to request your assistance in taking measurements in a somewhat dangerous place, namely, the ice-precipice of the tacul." "it is well, monsieur," returned the guide, with another smile, "i am a little used to dangerous places." gillie pulled his small hands out of the trouser-pockets in which he usually carried them, and rubbed them by way of expressing his gleeful feelings. had the sentiment which predominated in his little mind been audibly expressed, it would probably have found vent in some such phrase as, "won't there be fun, neither--oh dear no, not by no means." to him the height of happiness was the practice of mischief. danger in his estimation meant an extremely delicious form of mischief. "is the place picturesque as well as dangerous?" asked slingsby, with a wild look in his large eyes as he walked nearer to the professor. "it is; you will find many aspects of ice-formation well worthy of your pencil." it is due to the artist to say that his wildness that morning was not the result only of despair at the obvious indifference with which nita regarded him. it was the combination of that wretched condition with a heroic resolve to forsake the coy maiden and return to his first love-- his beloved art--that excited him; and the idea of renewing his devotion to her in dangerous circumstances was rather congenial to his savage state of mind. it may be here remarked that mr slingsby, besides being an enthusiastic painter, was an original genius in a variety of ways. among other qualities he possessed an inventive mind, and, besides having had an ice-axe made after a pattern of his own,--which was entirely new and nearly useless,--he had designed a new style of belt with a powerful rope having a hook attached to it, with which he proposed, and actually managed, to clamber up and down difficult places, and thus attain points of vantage for sketching. several times had he been rescued by guides from positions of extreme peril, but his daring and altogether unteachable spirit had thrown him again and again into new conditions of danger. he was armed with his formidable belt and rope on the present excursion, and his aspect was such that his friends felt rather uneasy about him, and would not have been surprised if he had put the belt round his neck instead of his waist, and attempted to hang himself. "do you expect to complete your measurements to-day?" asked lawrence, who accompanied the professor as his assistant. "oh no. that were impossible. i can merely fix my stakes to-day and leave them. to-morrow or next day i will return to observe the result." the eastern side of the glacier du geant, near the tacul, at which they soon arrived, showed an almost perpendicular precipice about feet high. as they collected in a group in front of that mighty pale-blue wall, the danger to which the professor had alluded became apparent, even to the most inexperienced eye among them. high on the summit of the precipice, where its edge cut sharply against the blue sky, could be seen the black boulders and _debris_ of the lateral moraine of the glacier. the day was unusually warm, and the ice melted so rapidly that parts of this moraine were being sent down in frequent avalanches. the rustle of _debris_ was almost incessant, and, ever and anon, the rustle rose into a roar as great boulders bounded over the edge, and, after dashing portions of the ice-cliffs into atoms, went smoking down into the chaos below. it was just beyond this chaos that the party stood. "now, antoine," said the professor, "i want you to go to the foot of that precipice and fix a stake in the ice there." "well, monsieur, it shall be done," returned the guide, divesting himself of his knapsack and shouldering his axe and a stake. "meanwhile," continued the professor, "i will watch the falling _debris_ to warn you of danger in time, and the direction in which you must run to avoid it. my friend lawrence, with the aid of captain wopper, will fix the theodolite on yonder rocky knoll to our left." "nothin' for you an' me to do," said gillie to the artist; "p'r'aps we'd better go and draw--eh?" slingsby looked at the blue spider before him with an amused smile, and agreed that his suggestion was not a bad one, so they went off together. while antoine was proceeding to the foot of the ice-cliffs on his dangerous mission, the professor observed that the first direction of a falling stone's bound was no sure index of its subsequent motion, as it was sent hither and thither by the obstructions with which it met. he therefore recalled the guide. "it won't do, antoine, the danger is too great." "but, monsieur, if it is necessary--" "but it is not necessary that _you_ should risk your life in the pursuit of knowledge. besides, i must have a stake fixed half-way up the face of that precipice." "ah, monsieur," said antoine, with an incredulous smile, "that is not possible!" to this the professor made no reply, but ordered his guide to make a detour and ascend to the upper edge of the ice-precipice for the purpose of dislodging the larger and more dangerous blocks of stone there, and, after that, to plant a stake on the summit. this operation was not quickly performed. antoine had to make a long detour to get on the glacier, and when he did reach the moraine on the top, he found that many of the most dangerous blocks lay beyond the reach of his axe. however, he sent the smaller _debris_ in copious showers down the precipice, and by cleverly rolling some comparatively small boulders down upon those larger ones which lay out of reach, he succeeded in dislodging many of them. this accomplished, he proceeded to fix the stake on the upper surface of the glacier. while he was thus occupied, the professor assisted lawrence in fixing the theodolite, and then, leaving him, went to a neighbouring heap of _debris_ followed by the captain, whom he stationed there. "i want you," he said, "to keep a good look-out and warn me as to which way i must run to avoid falling rocks. antoine has dislodged many of them, but some he cannot reach. these enemies must be watched." so saying, the professor placed a stake and an auger against his breast, buttoned his coat over them, and shouldered his axe. "you don't mean to say that you're agoing to go under that cliff?" exclaimed the captain, in great surprise, laying his hand on the professor's arm and detaining him. "my friend," returned the man of science, "do not detain me. time is precious just now. you have placed yourself under my orders for the day, and, being a seaman, must understand the value of prompt obedience. do as i bid you." he turned and went off at a swinging pace towards the foot of the ice-cliff, while the captain, in a state of anxiety, amounting almost to consternation, sat down on a boulder, took off his hat, wiped his heated brow, pronounced the professor as mad as a march hare, and prepared to discharge his duties as "the look-out." although cool as a cucumber in all circumstances at sea, where he knew every danger and how to meet or avoid it, the worthy captain now almost lost self-control and became intensely agitated and anxious, insomuch that he gave frequent and hurried false alarms, which he no less hurriedly attempted to correct, sometimes in nautical terms, much to the confusion of the professor. "hallo! hi! look out--starboard--sta-a-arboard!" he shouted wildly, on beholding a rock about the size of a chest of drawers spring from the heights above and rush downward, with a smoke of ice-dust and _debris_ following, "quick! there! no! _port_! port! i say it's--" before he could finish the sentence, the mass had fallen a long way to the right of the professor, and lay quiet on the ice not far from where the captain stood. in spite of the interruptions thus caused, the lower stake was fixed in a few minutes. the professor then swung his axe vigorously, and began to cut an oblique stair-case in the ice up the sheer face of the precipice. in some respects the danger to the bold adventurer was now not so great because, being, as it were, flat against the ice-cliffs, falling rocks were more likely, by striking some projection, to bound beyond him. still there was the danger of deflected shots, and when, by cutting a succession of notches in which to place one foot at a time, he had ascended to the height of an average three-storey house, the danger of losing his balance or slipping a foot became very great indeed. but the man of science persevered in doing what he conceived to be his duty with as much coolness as if he were the leader of a forlorn hope. following the example of experienced ice-men on steep places, he took good care to make the notches or steps slope a little inwards, never lifted his foot from one step until the next was ready, and never swung his axe until his balance was perfectly secured. having gained a height of about thirty feet, he pierced a hole with his auger, fastened a stake in it, and descended amid a heavy cannonade of boulders and a smart fire of smaller _debris_. during the whole proceeding lawrence directed his friend as to the placing of the stake, and watched with surprise as well as anxiety, while captain wopper kept on shouting unintelligible words of warning in a state of extreme agitation. the guide returned just in time to see this part of the work completed, and to remonstrate gravely with the professor on his reckless conduct. "`all's well that ends well,' antoine, as a great poet says," replied the professor, with one of his most genial smiles. "we must run some risk in the pursuit of scientific investigation. now then, lawrence, i hope you have got the three stakes in the same line--let me see." applying his eye to the theodolite, he found that the stakes were in an exactly perpendicular line, one above another. he then carefully marked the spot occupied by the instrument and thus completed his labours for that time. we may add here in passing that next day he returned to the same place, and found that in twenty-four hours the bottom stake had moved downwards a little more than two inches, the middle stake had descended a little more than three, and the upper stake exactly six inches. thus he was enabled to corroborate the fact which had been ascertained by other men of science before him, that glacier-motion is more rapid at the top than at the bottom, where the friction against its bed tends to hinder its advance, and that the rate of flow increases gradually from the bottom upwards. while these points of interest were being established, our artist was not less earnestly engaged in prosecuting his own peculiar work, to the intense interest of gillie, who, although he had seen and admired many a picture in the london shop-windows, had never before witnessed the actual process by which such things are created. wandering away on the glacier among some fantastically formed and towering blocks or obelisks of ice, mr slingsby expressed to gillie his admiration of their picturesque shapes and delicate blue colour, in language which his small companion did not clearly understand, but which he highly approved of notwithstanding. "i think this one is worth painting," cried slingsby, pausing and throwing himself into an observant attitude before a natural arch, from the roof of which depended some large icicles; "it is extremely picturesque." "i think," said gillie, with earnest gravity, "that yonder's one as is more picturesker." he had carefully watched the artist's various observant attitudes, and now threw himself into one of these as he pointed to a sloping obelisk, the size of an average church-steeple, which bore some resemblance to the leaning-tower of pisa. "you are right, boy; that is a better mass. come, let us go paint it." while walking towards it, gillie asked how such wild masses came to be made. "i am told by the professor," said slingsby, "that when the ice cracks across, and afterwards lengthwise, the square blocks thus formed get detached as they descend the valley, and assume these fantastic forms." "ah! jis so. they descends the walley, does they?" "so it is said." gillie made no reply, though he said in his heart, "you won't git me to swaller _that_, by no manner of means." his unbelief was, however, rebuked by the leaning-tower of pisa giving a terrible rend at that moment, and slowly bending forward. it was an alarming as well as grand sight, for they were pretty near to it. some smaller blocks of ice that lay below prevented the tower from being broken in its fall. these were crushed to powder by it, and then, as if they formed a convenient carriage for it, the mighty mass slid slowly down the slope for a few feet. it was checked for a moment by another block, which, however, gave way before the great pressure, fell aside and let it pass. the slope was slight at the spot so that the obelisk moved slowly, and once or twice seemed on the point of stopping, but as if it had become endowed with life, it made a sudden thrust, squeezed two or three obstacles flat, turned others aside, and thus wound its way among its fellows with a low groaning sound like some sluggish monster of the antediluvian world. reaching a steeper part of the glacier, on the ridge of which it hung for a moment, as if unwilling to exert itself, it seemed to awake to the reality of its position. making a lively rush, that seemed tremendously inconsistent with its weight, it shot over the edge of a yawning crevasse, burst with a thunderclap on the opposite ice-cliff, and went roaring into the dark bowels of the glacier, whence the echoes of its tumbling masses, subdued by distance, came up like the mutterings of evil spirits. gillie viewed this wondrous spectacle with an awe-stricken heart, and then vented his feelings in a prolonged yell of ecstasy. "ain't it splendid, sir?" he cried, turning his glowing eyes on slingsby. "majestic!" exclaimed the artist, whose enthusiasm was equal to that of his companion, though not quite so demonstrative. "raither spoiled your drawin', though, ain't it, sir?" "yonder is something quite as good, if not better," said slingsby. he pointed, as he spoke, to a part of the crevasse higher up on the glacier, where a projecting cave of snow overhung the abyss. from the under-surface of this a number of gigantic icicles hung, the lower points of the longer ones almost lost in the blue depths. a good position from which to sketch it, however, was not easily reached, and it was only by getting close to the edge of the crevasse that the persevering artist at length attained his object. here he sat down on his top-coat, folded several times to guard him from the cold ice, spread out his colour-box and sketching-block, and otherwise made himself comfortable, while gillie sat down beside him on his own cap, for want of a better protector. had these two enthusiasts known the nature of their position, they would have retired from it precipitately with horror, for, ignorant of almost everything connected with glaciers, they had walked right off the solid ice and seated themselves on a comparatively thin projecting ledge of snow which overhung the crevasse. thus they remained for some time enjoying themselves, with death, as it were, waiting for them underneath! what rendered their position more critical was the great heat of the day, which, whatever might be the strength of the sustaining ledge, was reducing its bulk continually. after having sketched for some time, the artist thought it advisable to see as far down into the crevasse as possible, in order to put in the point of the longest icicle. the better to do this, he unwound his rope from his waist and flung it on the ice by his side, while he lay down on his breast and looked over the edge. still he did not perceive the danger of his position, and went on sketching diligently in this awkward attitude. now it was a melancholy fact that master gillie's interest in art or science was short-lived, though keen. he soon tired of watching his companion, and began to look about him with a view to mischief. not seeing anything specially suggestive, he thought of aiding the operations of nature by expediting the descent of some neighbouring boulders from their positions on ice-blocks. he intimated his intention to slingsby, but the artist was too much engrossed to give heed to him. just as he was rising, gillie's eye fell on the rope, and a happy thought struck him. to carry striking thoughts into immediate execution was a marked feature of the boy's character. he observed that one end of the rope was attached to mr slingsby's belt. taking up the hook at the other end, he went with it towards a large boulder, drawing the rope after him with extreme care, for fear of arousing his companion by a tug. he found that, when fully stretched, it was just long enough to pass round the rock. quickly fastening it, therefore, by means of the hook, he walked quietly away. he did not exhibit much excitement while doing this. it was, after all, but a trifling jest in his esteem, as the only result to be hoped for would be the giving of a surprise by the little tug which might perhaps be experienced by the artist on rising. thereafter, gillie sent innumerable ice-blocks to premature destruction, and enjoyed the work immensely for a time, but, having exploratory tendencies, he soon wandered about among obelisks and caverns until he found himself underneath the ice-cliff on which his friend was seated. then, as he looked up at the overhanging ledge from which gigantic icicles were hanging, a shock of alarm thrilled his little breast. this was increased by the falling of one of the icicles, which went like a blue javelin into the crevasse beside him. gillie thought of shouting to warn mr slingsby of his danger, but before he could do so he was startled by an appalling yell. at the same moment part of the ice overhead gave way, and he beheld the artist descending. he was stopped with a sudden jerk, as the rope tightened, and remained suspended in the air, while his coat and colour-box accompanied icicles and snow-blocks into the abyss below. a second later and the struggling artist's head appeared to fall off, but it was only his hat. gillie had by this time recovered himself so far as to be able to add his piercing shrieks for help to the cries of the artist, and well was it that day for mr slingsby that gillie had, since the years of infancy, practised his lungs to some purpose in terrifying cats and defying "bobbies" in the streets of london. "oh, sir! sir!--i say--hi!" he cried, panting and glaring up. "eh? what? hah!" gasped slingsby, panting and glaring down. "don't kick like that sir; pray don't," cried gillie in agonised tones, "you'll start the boulder wot yer fast to, if you don't keep still." "oh!" groaned the artist and instantly hung limp and motionless, in which condition he remained while gillie ran towards the place where he had left the rest of the party, jumping and slipping and falling and yelling over the ice like a maniac in blue and buttons! "d'ee hear that?" exclaimed captain wopper with a startled look, as he and his companions busied themselves packing up their instruments. antoine grennon heard it but made no reply. he was familiar with cries of alarm. turning abruptly he dashed off at full speed in the direction whence the cries came. the captain and professor instantly followed; lawrence overtook and passed them. in a few minutes they met the terrified boy, who, instead of waiting for them and wasting time by telling what was wrong, turned sharp round, gave one wild wave of his hand, and ran straight back to the ledge from which poor slingsby hung. stout willing arms were soon pulling cautiously on the rope, and in a few minutes more the artist lay upon the safe ice, almost speechless from terror, and with a deadly pallor on his brow. strange to say the indomitable artist had held on tight to his sketch-book, possibly because it was almost as dear to him as life, but more probably because of that feeling which induces a drowning man to clutch at a straw. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ note . we ourselves had the satisfaction of witnessing this wonderful and beautiful phenomenon before having read or heard of it, while on a trip from chamouni to martigny over the tete noire. chapter fourteen. the grand ascent begun. mrs stoutley, reposing at full length on a sofa in the salon one evening, observed to the count horetzki that she really could not understand it at all; that it seemed to her a tempting of providence to risk one's life for nothing, and that upon the whole she thought these excursions on glaciers were very useless and foolish. the salon was full of people grouped in little knots, fighting the battles of the day o'er again, playing backgammon and chess, or poring over maps and guide-books. "it does indeed seem foolish," answered the count whose native politeness induced him always to agree with ladies when possible, "and as far as any practical purpose is served i should think it useless. nevertheless it seems to afford amusement to many people, and amusement, in some form or other, would appear to be almost necessary to our happy existence." "true," replied mrs stoutley, languidly, "but people ought to content themselves with quiet and safe amusements. how ridiculous it is to find pleasure in climbing ice-precipices, and leaping over crevasses, and sitting under shower-baths of boulder-stones. i'm sure that _i_ could not find pleasure in such pranks even if i were to make the effort. how much better to seek and find enjoyment in wandering with a book through shady forests and gathering wild-flowers! don't you agree with me, count?" the count's usually grave and anxious visage relaxed into a smile as he protested that he agreed with her entirely. "at the same time," he added, "there does appear to be some sort of aspiring tendency in the young and strong, to attempt the repression of which would seem to be useless, even if desirable. do you know, madame, while on a voyage some years ago i saw a boy who used to dive off the fore-yard-arm into the sea, and who went regularly every morning before breakfast to the main-mast-head and sat on that button-like piece of wood called the truck?" "how very reckless," said mrs stoutley, "and how shamefully regardless of the feelings of his mother, for of course if he had a mother, and if she were a woman of right feeling, she must have been horrified!" "i am afraid, madame, that you would have esteemed her a lady of wrong feeling, for she applauded her boy, and used to say that if he only took care to acquire as much moral as he had physical courage, so as to become as brave and bold a soldier of the cross as he was sure to be of the crown, he would resemble his own father, who was the best and bravest man that ever lived." "how strange!" murmured mrs stoutley, "such inconsistencies! but there does seem to be a considerable number of masculine women in the world, who encourage what we call muscular christianity." "yes, there are indeed strange inconsistencies around us," returned the count. "you have, however, mistaken the character of this particular mother, for she was the reverse of masculine, being delicate, and tender-hearted, and refined, and ladylike, while her boy was bold as a lion--yet obedient and gentle to her as a lamb. he afterwards became a soldier, and on the occasion of a wild storm on the east coast of england he swam off to a wreck with a rope, when no man in the place could be got to do it for love or money, and was the means of rescuing four women and six men, in accomplishing which, however, he lost his life." "oh, how shocking! how _very_ sad!" said mrs stoutley, startled into animation by the suddenness of the revelation, "and how different it might have been if the youth had been trained to gentler amusements. he might have been alive now." "yes," returned the count, "and the four women and six men might have been dead! but here come two friends who are better able to give an opinion on the point than i am." "what may the pint be?" asked captain wopper, with a genial smile, as if he were ready to tackle anything from a pint of beer to a "pint" of the compass. "only state your case, mrs stoutley, an' the professor here, he'll act the judge, an' i'll be the jury." "the jury is too small," said lewis, coming up at that moment. "small, young man!" repeated the captain, with feigned surprise, as he drew himself up to his full height and squared his broad shoulders. "not physically, but numerically," retorted lewis, with a laugh--"ho! emma, miss horetzki, lawrence, slingsby," he called to the quartette, who sat chatting in a bay window, "you are hereby summoned to act on a jury. come along and have yourselves impaled--i mean to say impannelled. a most important case, just going on for trial." "what is the nature of the case?" asked lawrence, as they all came forward and sat down in a semicircle before mrs stoutley. "it han't got no natur--it's unnateral altogether," said the captain, who had just heard it briefly stated by the count. "hallo! are you appointed public prosecutor?" demanded lewis. "yes, i am," retorted the captain, "i've appinted myself public persecuter, lord advocate, lord high commissioner to the woolsack, an' any other legal an' illegal character ye choose to name. so you clap a stopper on yer muzzle, youngster, while i state the case. here is mrs stoutley, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen, who says that climbin', an' gaugin', and glaciers is foolish and useless. that's two counts which the count here (nothin' personal meant) says the prisoner was guilty of. we'll go in an' win on the last count, for if these things ain't useless, d'ee see, they can't be foolish. well, the question is, `guilty or not guilty?'" "guilty!" replied mrs stoutley, with an amused smile. "hear! hear!" from slingsby. "silence in the court!" from lewis. "i'm afraid," said the professor, "that our forms of legal procedure are somewhat irregular." "never mind that, professor," said the captain, "you go ahead an' prove the prisoner wrong. take the wind out of her sails if 'ee can." the professor smiled blandly, and began in jest; but his enthusiastic spirit and love of abstract truth soon made him argue in earnest. "oh, that's all very well," said mrs stoutley, interrupting him, "but what possible use can there be in knowing the rate of speed at which a glacier flows? what does it matter whether it flows six, or sixty, or six hundred feet in a day?" "matter!" cried lewis, before the professor could reply, "why, it matters very much indeed. i can prove it. our excellent guide antoine told me of a man who fell into a crevasse high up on the glacier des bossons, and was of course lost; but about forty years afterwards the part of the glacier into which he fell had descended into the valley, and the body of the man was found--at least portions of it were found here and there. this, as you are all aware, is a well-known fact. bear in mind, in connection with this, that all glaciers do not travel at the same rate, nor all parts of a glacier at an equal rate. now, suppose that you were to lose a gold watch or a diamond ring in a crevasse, the value of which might be incalculable in consequence of being a gift from some beloved one, would it not be a matter of the last importance to know exactly the rate at which the said crevasse travelled, so that you or your grandchildren might return at the precise time and claim the property?" "don't talk nonsense, lewie," said his mother. "no doubt," said the professor, laughing, "my young friend's illustration is to the point, and i fear that i cannot give you anything more definite to prove the value of glacial measurements and observations. i must rest my proof on the abstract truth that _all_ knowledge is desirable, and ought to be sought after for its own sake, as being the means whereby we shall come better to know the good and wise creator, `whom to know,' as his own word says, `is life eternal' but i can give you distinct proof, in a somewhat analogous case, of good resulting from knowledge which was eagerly pursued and acquired without the searcher having the slightest idea as to the use to which his knowledge would be ultimately put. you have doubtless heard of captain maury, of the united states navy?" "oh yes," replied mrs stoutley, "he who writes that charming book, the physical geography of the sea, or some such title. my son is a great admirer of that work. i tried to read it to please him, but i must confess that i could not go far into it. it seemed to me an endless and useless search after currents of wind and water." "i see you must have missed the very illustrations which i am about to cite, for they are given in his book--one of the most interesting i ever read, and not the less interesting that its author distinguishes a connection between the creator's word and his works. you know that captain maury's investigations of currents of wind and water were conducted wisely, and on a vast scale. nautical men of many nations sent in their `logs' to him, and he patiently collected and collated all the facts observed in all parts of the ocean." "yes, and quite useless knowledge, it appears to me," said mrs stoutley. "well, we shall see," returned the professor. "there was once a terrible storm on the atlantic, and a vessel with troops on board was so disabled as to be left at last a helpless log upon the sea. she was passed by other vessels, but these could render no assistance, owing to the raging storm. they, however, took note of the latitude and longitude of the wreck, and reported her on arriving at new york. a rescue-ship was at once ordered to search for her, but, before sailing, captain maury was applied to for instructions how they should proceed. the man of science was seated in his study, had probably scarce observed the storm, and knew nothing about the wreck save her position, as observed at a certain date. why, therefore, we might ask; apply to him? just because he sat at the fountain-head of such knowledge as was needed. he had long studied, and well knew, the currents of the ocean, their direction and their rate of progress at specified times and particular places. he prepared a chart and marked a spot at, or near which, the wreck, he said, would probably be found. the wreck _was_ found--not indeed by the rescue-ship, but by another vessel, _at the very spot indicated_--and the surviving crew and troops were saved. so, in like manner, the study of truth regarding currents of air has led us to knowledge which enables mariners to escape the atlantic sargasso-sea--" "ha! the doldrums," growled captain wopper, as if he had a special and bitter hatred of that sea. "yes, the doldrums, or sargasso-sea, where ships used to be detained by long, vexatious calms, and islands of floating sea-weed, but which now we escape, because studious men have pointed out, that by sailing to one side of that sea you can get into favourable breezes, avoid the calm regions, and thus save much time." "now, madame," said captain wopper, "are you convinced?" "not quite," replied mrs stoutley, with a baffled look; "but, i suppose, on the strength of this, and similar reasons, you intend to ascend mont blanc to-morrow?" "we do," said the professor. "i intend to go for the purpose of attempting to fix a thermometer on the summit, in order to ascertain, if possible, the winter temperature." "and pray, for what purpose?" said mrs stoutley with a touch of sarcasm, "does dr lawrence intend to go?" "for the purpose of seeing the magnificent view, and of testing the lungs and muscles, which are now, i think, sufficiently trained to enable me to make the ascent with ease," replied the doctor, promptly. "_i_ go to assist the professor," said captain wopper. "and i," said lewis, "intend to go for fun; so you see, mother, as our reasons are all good, you had better go to bed, for it's getting late." mrs stoutley accepted the suggestion, delivered a yawn into her pocket-handkerchief, and retired, as she remarked, to ascend mont blanc in dreams, and thus have all the pleasure without the bodily fatigue. we are on the sides of the mountain monarch now, slowly wending our way through the sable fringe of pines that ornaments the skirt of his white mantle. we tramp along very slowly, for antoine grennon is in front and won't allow us to go faster. to the impatient and youthful spirits of lawrence and lewis, the pace appears ridiculously slow, and the latter does not hesitate to make audible reference in his best french to the progress of snails, but antoine is deaf to such references. one might fancy that he did not understand bad french, but for the momentary twinkle in his earnest eyes. but nothing will induce him to mend his pace, for well does he know that the ascent of mont blanc is no trifle; that even trained lungs and muscles are pretty severely taxed before the fifteen thousand seven hundred and eighty feet of perpendicular height above the sea-level is placed below the soles of the feet. he knows, also, from long experience, that he who would climb a mountain well, and use his strength to advantage, must begin with a slow, leisurely pace, as if he were merely out for a saunter, yet must progress with steady, persevering regularity. he knows, too, that young blood is prone to breast a mountain with head erect and spanking action, and to descend with woeful countenance and limp limbs. it must be restrained, and antoine does his duty. the ascent of mont blanc cannot be accomplished in one day. it is therefore necessary to sleep at a place named the grands mulets, from which a fresh start is made for the summit at the earliest hours of morning on the second day. towards this resting-place our travellers now directed their steps. the party consisted of the professor, captain wopper, lewis, lawrence, and slingsby, headed by their trusty guide, besides three porters with knapsacks containing food, wine, etcetera. one of these latter was the chamois-hunter, baptist le croix. he brought up the rear of the party, and all proceeded in single file, each, like the north american indian, treading in his predecessor's footsteps. passing from the dark fringe of pines they emerged upon a more open country where the royal robe was wrought with larch and hazel, bilberry, and varied underwood, and speckled with rhododendrons and other flowers on a ground of rich brown, green, and grey. steadily upwards, over the glacier des bossons, they went, with airy cloudlets floating around them, with the summit at which they aimed, the dome du gouter, and the aiguille du gouter in front, luring them on, and other giant aiguilles around watching them. several hours of steady climbing brought them to the pierre l'echelle, where they were furnished with woollen leggings to protect their legs from the snow. here also they procured a ladder and began the tedious work of traversing the glaciers. hitherto their route had lain chiefly on solid ground--over grassy slopes and along rocky paths. it was now to be confined almost entirely to the ice, which they found to be cut up in all directions with fissures, so that great caution was needed in crossing crevasses and creeping round slippery ridges, and progress was for some time very slow. coming to one of the crevasses which was too wide to leap, the ladder was put in requisition. the iron spikes with which one end of it was shod were driven firmly into the ice at one side of the chasm and the other end rested on the opposite side. antoine crossed first and then held out his hand to the professor, who followed, but the man of science was an expert ice-man, and in another moment stood at the guide's side without having required assistance. not so captain wopper. "i'm not exactly a feather," he said, looking with a doubtful expression at the frail bridge. "it bore me well enough, captain," said the professor with a smile. "that's just what it didn't," replied the captain, "it seemed to me to bend too much under you; besides, although i'm bound to admit that you're a good lump of a man, professor, i suspect there's a couple of stones more on me than on you. if it was only a rope, now, such as i've bin used to, i'd go at it at once, but--" "it is quite strong enough," said the guide confidently. "well, here goes," returned the mariner, "but if it gives way, antoine, i'll have you hanged for murder." uttering this threat he crossed in safety, the others followed, and the party advanced over a part of the glacier which was rugged with mounds, towers, obelisks, and pyramids of ice. for some time nothing serious interrupted their progress until they came to another wide crevasse, when it was found, to the guide's indignation, that the ladder had been purposely left behind by the porter to whom it had been intrusted, he being under the impression that it would not be further required. "blockhead!" cried the professor, whose enthusiastic spirit was easily roused to indignation, "it was your duty to carry it till ordered to lay it down. you were hired to act, sir, not to think. obedience is the highest virtue of a servant! shall we send him back for it?" he said, turning to antoine with a flushed countenance. "not now, monsieur," answered the guide, "it would create needless delay. we shall try to work round the crevasse." this they did by following its edge until they found a part where crossing was possible, though attended with considerable danger in consequence of the wedge-like and crumbling nature of the ice. hoping that such a difficulty would not occur again they pushed on, but had not gone far when another, and still more impassable, fissure presented itself. "how provoking, couldn't we jump it?" said lewis, looking inquiringly into the dark-blue depths. "pr'aps _you_ might, youngster, with your half fledged spider-legs," said the captain, "but you'll not catch fourteen-stun-six goin' over _that_ with its own free will. what's to be done now, antoine?" the guide, after looking at the crevasse for a few minutes, said that the next thing to be done was to look for a snow-bridge, which he had no doubt would be found somewhere. in search of this he scattered the whole party, and in a few minutes a loud shout from the chamois-hunter told that he had been successful. the members of the party at once converged towards him, but found that the success was only partial. he had indeed found a part of the crevasse, which, during some of the wild storms so frequent on the mountain, had been bridged over by a snow-wreath, but the central part of the bridge had given way, and it was thus divided by a gap of about a foot wide. this would have been but a small and insignificant step to take had the substance been solid, but although the ice on one side was strong the opposite edge was comparatively soft snow, and not much more than a foot thick. the chamois-hunter, being the lightest of the party, was called to the front and ordered to test the strength of the frail bridge, if bridge it could be called. "why, he might as well try to step on a bit of sea-foam," said the captain in surprise. lawrence, lewis, and slingsby, having as yet had no experience of such places, expressed, or held a similar opinion, but the professor bade them wait and see. baptist, throwing off his pack, and fastening a rope round his waist, which his comrades held, advanced to the extreme edge of the ice, and with his long-handled axe, gently patted the snow on the opposite side. the surface yielded, and it seemed as if even that small weight would break the lump _off_, but the operation consolidated the mass in a few minutes, by reason of what the professor termed "regelation." he then stepped tenderly on it, crossed over, and drew the rope after him. antoine followed next, and in a few minutes the whole party was safe on the other side. "dr lawrence," said slingsby, in a low grave tone, as they walked along after this, "if we ever see chamouni again i shall be surprised." "indeed?" returned lawrence, with a short laugh, "i don't take quite so gloomy a view of our case. don't you think that the free and easy, quiet look of our guide and porters indicates that such work looks more dangerous than it really is?" "i don't know that," said the artist, shaking his head, "when men get thoroughly accustomed to danger they become foolhardy, and don't realise it. i think it sheer madness to cross such places." lewis, who overheard the conversation, could scarce refrain from a burst of laughter. "upon my word, slingsby," said he, "such observations come strangely from the lips of a man, who only a day or two ago was caught sketching on a snow-wreath over the edge of a crevasse." "ah, but i didn't know it," retorted the other, "and even if i _had_ known it, the ledge of snow was immensely stronger than that on which we have just stood." at this point the conversation was interrupted by the guide stopping and saying that it was now necessary to tie the party together. they had reached those higher parts of the glacier where snow frequently falls and covers, to some extent the narrower crevasses, thus, by concealing them, rendering them extremely dangerous traps. it therefore became necessary to attach the various members of the party together by means of a rope, which, passing round their waists, with a few feet between each, enabled them to rescue any one who should chance to break through. thus, in a string, they advanced, and had scarcely proceeded a hundred yards when a surprised "hallo!" from captain wopper arrested them. he had sunk up to the knees in snow. a "hallo!" of alarm instantly succeeded. he was waist deep. a stentorian yell followed: "ho! hallo! hi!--avast! hold on there abaft! my legs are waublin' in nothin'!" his great weight had indeed nearly plunged him into a hidden crevasse, over which those who preceded him had passed in safety. if the captain had stood alone that crevasse would certainly have been his grave, but his friends held him tight, and in a few seconds he was dragged out of danger. "well, well," he said, wiping some large drops of perspiration from his brow, as he stood on the other side of the chasm, "land-lubbers talk about seafarin' men havin' nothin' but a plank between them an' death, but to my thinkin' the rottenest plank that ever was launched is absolute safety compared to `a snow-wreath.'" "ah! captain," said the professor, laughing, "you think so just now because you're not used to it. in a few weeks you'll hold a different opinion." "may be so," replied the captain quietly, "but it don't feel so--heave ahead, my hearties!" thus encouraged the party proceeded with caution, the guide sounding the snow at each step with his long axe-handle as he moved in advance. slowly they mounted higher and higher, occasionally meeting with, but always overcoming, difficulties, until towards evening they reached the little log cabin on the grands mulets, not sorry to find in it a sufficient though humble resting-place for the night. here they proceeded to make themselves comfortable. some firewood had been carried up by the porters, with which a fire was kindled, wet garments were hung up to dry, and hot coffee was prepared, while the sun sank in a gorgeous world of amber and crimson fire. one by one the stars came out and gradually twinkled into brilliancy, until at last the glorious host of heaven shone in the deepening sky with an intensity of lustre that cannot be described, contrasting strangely with the pallid ghostly aspect of the surrounding snow-fields. these were the only trace of earth that now remained to greet the eyes of our travellers when they looked forth from the door of the little hut. besides being calm and beautiful, the night was intensely cold. there is this peculiarity, on alpine mountain tops, that when the sun's last rays desert them the temperature falls abruptly, there being little or nothing of earth or rock to conserve the heat poured out during the day. the mountaineers, therefore, soon after night closed in, found it necessary to shut the door of their cabin, where they roused up the fire, quaffed their steaming coffee, and smoked their pipes, in joyful anticipation of the coming day. chapter fifteen. the grand ascent continued and completed. need we say that the younger of our adventurers--for such they may truly be styled--felt a tendency to "spin yarns," as captain wopper expressed it, till a late hour that night, as they sat round the fire at the grands mulets? during this enjoyable period, lawrence and lewis made themselves better acquainted with baptist le croix, the chamois-hunter, whose quiet, gentle, and unobtrusive manner was very attractive to them. many an anecdote did he relate of adventures among the alpine peaks and passes while pursuing the chamois, or guiding travellers on their way, and it is probable that he might have roamed in spirit among his beloved haunts--eagerly followed in spirit by the young men--if he had not been called to order by the guide, who, remembering the hard work that lay before them on the morrow, suggested repose. the profound silence that soon reigned in the hut was broken only by an occasional long-drawn sigh. even captain wopper was quiet, having been so powerfully influenced by fresh mountain air and exercise as to have forgotten or foregone his ordinary and inveterate snore. there is something peculiarly disagreeable in being awakened, when one is very tired and sleepy, about two minutes after one has dropped into a profound refreshing slumber; and the annoyance is severely aggravated when it is caused by the wanton act of one of whom we had expected better things. so, in a hazy way, thought lewis stoutley when he felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and heard the voice of antoine grennon. "monsieur! monsieur!" said the guide. "g-t--long. d-n borer me," murmured lewis, in tones so sleepy that the dash of crossness was barely perceptible. "it is time to rise, sir," persisted antoine. "'mposs'ble--'v jus' b'n two min'ts sl-e--" a profound sigh formed an eloquent peroration to the sentence. a loud laugh from his companions, who were already up and getting ready, did more than the guide's powers of suasion to arouse the heavy sleeper. he started to a sitting posture, stared with imbecile surprise at the candle which dimly lighted the cabin, and yawned vociferously. "what a sleeper you are, lewie!" said lawrence, with a laugh, as, on his knees before the fire, he busied himself in preparing coffee for the party. "and such a growler, too, when any one touches you," observed slingsby, buttoning on his leggings. "sleeper! growler!" groaned lewis, "you've only given me five minutes in which to sleep or growl." "ah, the happy obliviousness of youth!" said the professor, assisting one of the porters to strap up the scientific instruments, "you have been asleep four hours at least. it is now past one. we must start in less than an hour, so bestir yourself--and pray, dr lawrence, make haste with that coffee." the doctor was by no means slow in his operations, but the difficulties in his way delayed him. at such a height, and in such a frozen region, the only mode of procuring water was to place a panful of snow on the fire; and, no matter how full the pan might be stuffed with it, this snow, when melted, was reduced to only a very small quantity of water; more snow had, therefore, to be added and melted, so that much time was spent before the boiling point was reached. patience, however, was at last rewarded with a steaming draught, which, with bread and ham, did more than fire towards warming their chill bodies. outside, the scene was still exquisitely calm and beautiful. the stars appeared to have gathered fresh brilliancy and to have increased in number during the night. those of them near the horizon, as the professor pointed out, twinkled energetically, as if they had just risen, and, like lewis, were sleepy, while those in the zenith shone with steady lustre, as if particularly wide awake to the doings of the presumptuous men who were climbing so much nearer than usual to their habitation in the sky. one star in particular gleamed with a sheen that was pre-eminently glorious--now it was ruby red, now metallic blue, anon emerald green. of course, no sunlight would tinge the horizon for several hours, but the bright moon, which had just risen, rolled floods of silver over the snowy wastes, rendering unnecessary the lantern which had been provided to illumine their upward path. the party, having been tied together with a rope as on the previous day, set forth in line over the snow, each following the other, and soon they were doing battle with the deep crevasses. the nature of the ice varied, of course, with the form of the mountain, sometimes presenting rugged and difficult places, in which, as the captain put it, they got among breakers and had to steer with caution, at other times presenting comparatively level plains of snow over which all was "plain sailing," but the movement was upwards--ever upwards--and, as the day advanced, felt so prolonged that, at last, as slingsby said, the climbing motion grew into a confirmed habit. meanwhile the old world sank steadily below them, and, seen from such an elevation in the pale moonlight, lost much of its familiar look. even sounds appeared gradually to die out of that mysterious region, for when they chanced to pause for a moment to recover breath, or to gaze downward, each appeared unwilling to break the excessive stillness, and all seemed to listen intently, as it were, to the soundlessness around-- hearing nought, however, save the beating of their own pulsations. in such a spot, if unaccompanied by guide or friend, one might perhaps realise, more than in other parts of earth, the significance of the phrase, "alone with god." as dawn approached, lewis, who had taken care to have himself placed next to baptist le croix, renewed his converse in reference to chamois-hunting, and made arrangements to accompany the hunter on one of his expeditions. "is that your sole occupation?" he asked, as the party entered upon a somewhat level snow-field. "that and assisting travellers," answered baptist. "by the way," said lewis, in a careless tone, "they tell me that gold is to be found in some parts of these mountains. is that true?" if the youth's back had not been towards the hunter, who walked behind him, he might have seen that this question was received with a startled look, and that a strange gleam shot from the man's eyes. the question was repeated before he answered it. "yes," said he, in a low voice, "they say it is to be found--but i have never found it." "have you sought much for it?" "i have sought for it." the answer was not given promptly, and lewis found, with some surprise, that the subject appeared to be distasteful to the hunter. he therefore dropped it and walked on in silence. walking at the time was comparatively easy, for a sharp frost had hardened the surface of the snow, and the gem-like lights of heaven enabled them to traverse valleys of ice, clamber up snow-slopes and cross crevasses without danger, except in one or two places, where the natural snow-bridges were frail and the chasms unusually wide. at one of these crevasses they were brought to a complete standstill. it was too wide to be leaped, and no bridge was to be found. the movements of a glacier cause the continual shifting of its parts, so that, although rugged or smooth spots are always sure to be found at the same parts of the glacier each year, there is, nevertheless, annual variety in minute detail. hence the most expert guides are sometimes puzzled as to routes. the crevasse in question was a new one, and it was antoine's first ascent of mont blanc for that year, so that he had to explore for a passage just as if he had never been there before. the party turned to the left and marched along the edge of the chasm some distance, but no bridge could be found. the ice became more broken up, smaller crevasses intersected the large one, and at last a place was reached where the chaos of dislocation rendered further advance impossible. "lost your bearin's, antoine?" asked captain wopper. "no; i have only got into difficulties," replied the guide, with a quiet smile. "just so--breakers ahead. well, i suppose you'll 'bout ship an' run along the coast till we find a channel." this was precisely what antoine meant to do, and did, but it was not until more than an hour had been lost that a safe bridge was found. when they had crossed, the configuration of the ice forced them to adopt a route which they would willingly have avoided. a steep incline of snow rose on their right, on the heights above which loose ice-grags were poised as if on the point of falling. indeed, two or three tracks were passed, down which, probably at no distant period, some of these avalanches had shot. it was nervous work passing under them. even antoine looked up at them with a grave, inquiring glance, and hastened his pace as much as was consistent with comfort and dignity. soon after this the sun began to rise, and the upper portions of the snow were irradiated with pink splendour, but to our travellers he had not yet risen, owing to the intervening peaks of the aiguille du midi. in the brightening light they emerged upon a plain named the petit plateau, which forms a reservoir for the avalanches of the dome du goute. above them rose the mountain-crest in three grand masses, divided from each other by rents, which exposed that peculiar stratified form of the glacier caused by the annual bedding of the snow. from the heights, innumerable avalanches had descended, strewing the spot where they stood with huge blocks of ice and masses of rock. threading their way through these impediments was a matter not only of time, but of difficulty, for in some parts the spaces between the boulders and blocks were hollow, and covered with thin crusts of snow, which gave way the instant a foot was set on them, plunging up to their waists the unfortunates who trod there, with a shock which usually called forth shouts of astonishment not unmingled with consternation. "here, then, we draw near to the grand summit," said the professor, pointing to the snow-cliffs on the right, "whence originates the ice-fountain that supplies such mighty ice-rivers as the glacier des bossons and the mer de glace." "oui, monsieur," replied antoine, smiling, "we _draw_ near, but we are not yet near." "we are nearer to the summit however, than we are to the plain," retorted the professor. "truly, yes," assented the guide. "i should think no one could doubt that," observed slingsby, looking upwards. "it looks quite near now," said lewis. "not so near, however, as you think, and as you shall find," rejoined the guide, as they resumed their upward march. this was indeed true. nothing is more deceptive to an inexperienced eye than the apparent distance of a high mountain-top. when you imagine that the plain below is miles and miles away, and the peak above close at hand, you find, perhaps, on consulting your watch, that the plain cannot be very far distant, and that the greater part of your work still lies before you. it requires no small amount of resolution to bear up against the depression of spirit caused by frequent mistakes in this matter. owing to the increasing height and power of the sun, the snow beyond the petit plateau soon became soft, and the steepness of the ascent increasing, their advance became slower, and their work much more laborious. a pleasant break was, however, at hand, for, on reaching the grand plateau, they were cheered by the sun's rays beaming directly on them, and by the information that they had at length reached their breakfast-point. it may not be a very romantic, but it is an interesting fact, that the joys connected with intellectual and material food are intimately blended. man, without intellectual food, becomes a "lower animal." what intellectual man is without material food, even for part of a day, let those testify who have had the misfortune to go on a pic-nic, and discover that an essential element of diet had been forgotten. it is not merely that food is necessary to maintain our strength; were that so, a five minutes' pause, or ten at the outside, would suffice, in captain wopper's phraseology, to take in cargo, or coal the human engine; but we "_rejoice_ in food," and we believe that none enjoy it so much as those whose intellectual appetite is strong. if any doubters of these truths had witnessed the professor and his friends at breakfast that morning on the grand plateau, they must have infallibly been convinced. "what a gourmand he is!" whispered lewis to the captain, in reference to the man of science, "and such a genial outflow of wit to correspond with his amazing indraught of wittles." the captain's teeth were at the moment fixed with almost tigerish ferocity in a chicken drumstick, but the humour and the amazing novelty--to say nothing of the truth--of lewis's remark made him remove the drumstick, and give vent to a roar of laughter that shook the very summit of mont blanc--at all events the professor said it did, and he was a man who weighed his words and considered well his sentiments. "do not imagine that i exaggerate," he said, as distinctly as was compatible with a very large mouthful of ham and bread, "sound is a motion of vibration, not of translation. that delightfully sonorous laugh emitted by captain wopper (pass the wine, slingsby--thanks) was an impulse or push delivered by his organs of respiration to the particles of air in immediate contact with his magnificent beard. the impulse thus given to the air was re-delivered or passed on, not as i pass the mutton to dr lawrence (whose plate is almost empty), but by each particle of air passing the impulse to its neighbour; thus creating an aerial wave, or multitude of waves, which rolled away into space. those of the waves which rolled in the direction of mont blanc communicated their vibrations to the more solid atoms of the mountain, these passed the motion on to each other, of course with slight--inconceivably slight--but actual force, and thus the tremor passed entirely through the mountain, out on the other side, greatly diminished in power no doubt, and right on throughout space.--hand me the bread, lewis, and don't sit grinning there like a cheshire cat with tic-douloureux in its tail." at this slingsby laughed and shook the mountain again, besides overturning a bottle of water, and upsetting the gravity of antoine grennon, who chanced to be looking at him; for the artist's mouth, being large, and also queerly shaped, appeared to the guide somewhat ludicrous. sympathy, like waves of sound, is easily transmitted. thus, on the captain making to antoine the very simple remark that the "mootong was mannyfeek," there was a general roar that ought to have brought mont blanc down about their ears. but it didn't--it only shook him. laughter and sympathy combined improve digestion and strengthen appetite. thus the professor's brilliant coruscations, and the appreciative condition of his audience, created an enjoyment of that morning's meal which was remembered with pleasure long after the event, and induced an excessive consumption of food, which called forth the remonstrances of the guide, who had to remind his uproarious flock that a portion must be reserved for the descent. to the propriety of this lewis not only assented, but said that he meant to continue the ascent, and rose for that purpose, whereupon the doctor said that he dissented entirely from the notion that bad puns increased the hilarity of a party, and the captain, giving an impulse to the atmosphere with his respiratory organs, produced the sound "avast!" and advised them to clap a stopper in their potato-traps. even at these sallies they all laughed--proving, among other things, that mountain air and exercise, combined with intellectual and physical food, are conducive to easy-going good humour. it is not impossible that the tremors to which mont blanc had been subjected that morning had put him a little out of humour, for our mountaineers had scarcely recommenced their upward toil when he shrouded his summit in a few fleecy clouds. the guide shook his head at this. "i fear the weather won't hold," he said. "won't hold!" exclaimed the captain, "why, it's holdin' now as hard as it can grip." "true," observed the professor; "but weather in these regions is apt to change its mood rather suddenly." "yet there seems to me no sign of an unfavourable change," said lawrence, looking up at the blue and almost cloudless sky. "fleecy clouds are fleeting at times," returned the professor, pointing to the summit which again showed its cap of clear dazzling white, "but at other times they are indicative of conditions that tend to storm. however, we must push on and hope for the best." they did push on accordingly, and all, except the guide, had no difficulty in "hoping." as they passed over the plateau the sun poured floods of light on the snow, from the little crystals of which it shone with prismatic colours, as though the place had been strewn with diamonds. the spirit of levity was put to flight by this splendid spectacle, and the feelings of the travellers were deepened to solemnity when the guide pointed to a yawning crevasse into which, he said, three guides were hurled by an avalanche in the year . he also related how, on one occasion, a party of eleven tourists perished, not far from where they then stood, during a terrible storm, and how an english lady and her guide were, at another time, lost in a neighbouring crevasse. by this time all except the chief among the surrounding heights were beginning to look insignificant by comparison, and the country assumed a sort of rugged flatness in consequence of being looked down upon from such an elevation. passing the grand plateau they reached a steep incline, which rose towards a tremendous ice-precipice. from the upper edge of this there hung gigantic icicles. up the incline they went slowly, for the crust of the snow broke down at every step, and the captain, being heavy, began to show symptoms of excessive heat and labouring breath, but he grew comparatively cool on coming to a snow-bridge which had to be passed in order to get over a crevasse. "it'll never bear my weight," he said, looking doubtfully at the frail bridge, and at the blue gulf, which appeared to be a bottomless pit. antoine, however, thought it might prove strong enough. he patted the snow gently, as on previous occasions of a similar kind, and advanced with caution, while his followers fixed their heels in the snow, and held tight to the rope to save him if he should break through. he passed in safety, and the others followed, but new difficulties awaited them on the other side. just beyond this bridge they came to a slope from which the snow had been completely swept, leaving the surface of hard ice exposed. it was so steep that walking on it was impossible. antoine, therefore, proceeded to cut steps along its face. two swings of his ponderous mountain-axe were sufficient to cut each step in the brittle ice, and in a few minutes the whole party were on the slope, every man having a coil of the rope round his waist, while, with the spike of his alpenstock driven firmly into the ice, he steadied himself before taking each successive step. there would have been no difficulty in crossing such a slope if its base had terminated in snow, but as it went straight down to the brow of an ice-precipice, and then abruptly terminated in a cornice, from which the giant icicles, before mentioned, hung down into an unfathomable abyss, each man knew that a false step, a slip, or the loss of balance, might result in the instant destruction of the whole party. they moved therefore very slowly, keeping their eyes steadily fixed on their feet. the mercurial temperament of mr slingsby was severely tried at this point. his desire to look up and revel in the beauties of nature around him proved too strong a temptation. while gazing with feelings of awe at the terrible edge or cornice below he became, for the first time, fully alive to his situation,--the smallness of the step of ice on which he stood, the exceeding steepness of the glassy slope below, the dread abyss beyond! he shut his eyes; a giddy feeling came over him--a rush of horror. "take care, monsieur!" was uttered in a quick, deep tone, behind him. it was the warning voice of le croix, who observed his condition. the warning came too late. slingsby wavered, threw up his arms, slipped, and fell with an appalling shriek. le croix, however, was prepared. in an instant he had fixed his staff and heels firmly, and had leaned well back to resist the pull. the porter in front was not less prompt; the stout rope stood the strain; and in another moment the artist was restored to his position, panting, pale, and humbled. a few minutes sufficed to restore his confidence sufficiently to admit of his proceeding, and, with many warnings to be more cautious, the advance was continued. up to this point the weather had favoured them, but now mont blanc seemed as if inclined to resent the free and easy way in which these men of mingled muscle and science had attacked his crown. he drew several ominous clouds around him, and shook out a flood of hoary locks from his white head, which, caught up by a blast, created apparently for the purpose, were whirled aloft in wild confusion, and swooped down upon the mountaineers with bitter emphasis, in the form of snow-drift, as if they had come direct from captain wopper's favourite place of reference,-- nova zembla. coats, which had hitherto been carried on the arm or thrown open, were put on and buttoned, and heads were bent to meet the blast and repel the snow-drift. little was said, save a murmured doubt by antoine as to the possibility of gaining the summit, even although they were now so near it, for the day was far spent by that time, and the rugged nature of the route over they had passed, precluded the possibility of a rapid return to the hut at the grands mulets. they pushed steadily on, however, for the professor was anxious to bury his thermometer in the snow at the top; the guide was anxious to maintain his credit for perseverance; and the others were anxious to be able to say they had reached the highest height in europe. in any weather the ascent of mont blanc requires somewhat more than the average share of physical vigour and perseverance; in bad weather it demands unusual strength and resolution. when, therefore, a severe storm of wind arose, most of the party began to show symptoms of distress. the labour of ascending, being coupled with that of forcing way against the blast, was very exhausting to the muscles, while the extreme cold reduced the physical energy and cooled the most sanguine spirit. antoine alone seemed to be proof against all influences, but the responsibility lying on him clouded his usually open countenance with a careworn expression. prudence counselled immediate return. ambition, as they were now so near the top, urged prolonged effort. the guide expressed his anxieties, but meeting with no response, followed the dictates of his feelings, and pushed on. like pillars of living snow they toiled patiently upwards. breath became too precious to waste in words. they advanced in silence. the wind howled around them, and the snow circled in mad evolutions, as if the demon of wintry storms dwelt there, and meant to defend his citadel to the "bitter end." there are two rocks near the summit, which crop through the ice like rugged jewels in the monarch's diadem. the lower is named the petits mulets, the upper the derniers roches. on reaching the latter of these they paused a few moments to rest. a feeling of certainty that the end would be gained now began to prevail, but the guide was a little alarmed, and the professor horrified, on looking at their companions' faces, to observe that they were pinched, haggard, and old-looking, as if they all had aged somewhat during the last few hours! captain wopper's rubicund visage was pale, and his nose blue; the face of lewis was white all over, and drawn, as if he were suffering pain; dr lawrence's countenance was yellow, and slingsby's was green. the professor himself was as bad as his comrades, and the porters were no better. "we shan't be beaten now," said the man of science, with a ghastly smile. "go 'head! nev'r s'die s'l'ng's th'r's shot 'n th' locker!" replied the captain, in the tone of a man who would rather avoid speaking, if possible. "what a face you've got, stoutley!" said the artist. "you're another!" replied lewis, with a horrible grin. "allons!" exclaimed the guide, bending once more against the storm. once, for a few minutes, the wind ceased and the clouds lifted. captain wopper uttered a cheer, and rushed forward in advance of the guide, took off his hat and threw it into the air. they had reached the round summit without being aware of it. they stood , feet above the sea-level! no envious peak rose above their heads. the whole world lay below them, bathed, too, in bright sunshine, for the storm, which had so suddenly swooped upon them, was confined, like an elemental body-guard, to the head of the mountain-king. but, clear though it was at the moment, they were too high in the air to see anything quite distinctly, yet this hazy aspect had a charm of its own, for it increased the feeling and idea of vastness in connection with surrounding space. around, and now beneath, stood the mountain nobility of the land, looking, however, somewhat reduced in size and majesty, as seen from the royal presence. scarcely had the mountaineers assembled and glanced at the wondrous panorama, when the envious clouds swooped down again and mingled with the snow-drift which once more rose to meet them. "we must be quick, monsieur," said antoine, taking a shovel from one of the porters, while le croix grasped another. "where shall we dig?" the professor fixed on a spot, and, while the grave of the thermometer was being dug, a plaid was set up on a couple of alpenstocks, in the shelter of which the others consumed the bread and wine that had been saved from breakfast. it did them little good, however; the cold was too intense. the captain's beard was already fringed with icicles, and the whiskers of those who had them were covered with hoar-frost, while the breath issued from their mouths like steam. before the thermometer was buried all had risen, and were endeavouring to recover heat by rubbing their hands, beating their arms across their breasts, and stamping violently. "come," said the professor, quickly, when the work was done, "we must start at once." "oui, monsieur," assented the guide, and, without more words, the whole party began to descend the mountain at a run. there was cause for haste. not only did the storm increase in violence, but evening drew on apace, and all of them were more or less exhausted by prolonged muscular exertion and exposure to severe cold. suddenly, having gone a considerable way down the mountain, they emerged from fog and snow-drift into blazing sunshine! the strife of elements was confined entirely to the summit. the inferior ice-slopes and the valleys far below were bathed in the golden glories of a magnificent sunset and, before they reached the huts at the grands mulets, they had passed from a condition of excessive cold to one of extreme heat, insomuch that the captain and professor were compelled to walk with their coats slung over their shoulders, while perspiration streamed from their bare brows. that night the party slept again at the grands mulets, and next day they reached chamouni, fagged, no doubt, and bearing marks of mountaineering in the shape of sun-burnt cheeks and peeled noses, but hearty, nevertheless, and not a little elated with their success in having scaled the mighty sides and the hoary summit of mont blanc. chapter sixteen. tells how lewis distinguished himself. seated one morning on an easy chair in susan quick's apartment and swinging his little blue legs to and fro in a careless, negligent manner, gillie white announced it as his opinion that mister lewis had gone, or was fast going, mad. "why do you think so?" asked susan, with a smile, looking up for a moment from some portion of lewis's nether integuments, which mont blanc had riven almost to shreds. "w'y do i think so?" repeated gillie; "w'y, cos he's not content with havin' busted his boots an' his clo'se, an' all but busted hisself, in goin' to the top o' mont blang an' monty rosa, an' all the other monty-thingumbobs about but he's agoin' off to day with that queer fish laycrwa to hunt some where up above the clouds--in among the stars, i fancy--for shamwas." "indeed!" said susan, with a neat little laugh. "yes, indeed. he's mountain-mad--mad as a swiss march hare, if not madder--by the way, susan, wot d'ee think o' the french?" gillie propounded this question with the air of a philosopher. "d'you mean french people?" "no; i means the french lingo, as my friend cappen wopper calls it." "well, i can't say that i have thought much about it yet. missis keeps me so busy that i haven't time." "ah!" said gillie, "you're wastin' of precious opportoonities, susan. i've bin a-studdyin' of that lingo myself, now, for three weeks--off and on." "indeed!" exclaimed susan, with an amused glance, "and what do _you_ think of it?" "think of it! i think it's the most outrageous stuff as ever was. the man who first inwented it must 'ave 'ad p'ralersis o' the brain, besides a bad cold in 'is 'ead, for most o' the enns an' gees come tumblin' through the nose, but only git half out after all, as if the speaker was afraid to let 'em go, lest he shouldn't git hold of 'em again. there's that there mountain, now. they can't call it mont blang, with a good strong out-an'-out bang, like a briton would do, but they catches hold o' the gee when it's got about as far as the bridge o' the nose, half throttles it and shoves it right back, so that you can scarce hear it at all. an' the best joke is, there ain't no gee in the word at all!" "no?" said susan, in surprise. "no," repeated gillie. "i've bin studdyin' the spellin' o' the words in shop-winders an' posters, an', would you b'lieve it, they end the word blang with a _c_." "you don't say so!" "yes i do; an' how d'ee think they spell the name o' that feller laycrwa?" "i'm sure i don't know," answered susan. "they spells it," returned gillie, with a solemn look, "l-e-c-r-o-i-x. now, if _i_ had spelt it that way, i'd have pronounced it laycroiks. wouldn't you?" "well, yes, i think i should," said susan. "it seems to me," continued gillie, "that they goes on the plan of spellin' one way an' purnouncin' another--always takin' care to choose the most difficult way, an' the most unnatt'ral, so that a feller has no chance to come near it except by corkin' up one nostril tight, an' borin' a small extra hole in the other about half-way up. if you was to mix a sneeze with what you said, an' paid little or no attention to the sense, p'raps it would be french--but i ain't sure. i only wish you heard cappen wopper hoistin' french out of hisself as if he was a wessel short-handed, an' every word was a heavy bale. he's werry shy about it, is the cappen, an' wouldn't for the world say a word if he thought any one was near; but when he thinks he's alone with antoine--that's our guide, you know--he sometimes lets fly a broadside o' french that well-nigh takes my breath away." the urchin broke into a laugh here at the memory of the captain's efforts to master what he styled a furrin' tongue, but susan checked him by saying slily, "how could you know, gillie, if the captain was _alone_ with antoine?" "oh, don't you know," replied gillie, trying to recover his gravity, "the cappen he's wery fond o' me, and i like to gratify his feelin's by keepin' near him. sometimes i keep so near--under the shadow of his huge calf d'ee see--that he don't observe me on lookin' round; an', thinkin' he's all alone, lets fly his french broadsides in a way that a'most sends antoine on his beam-ends. but antoine is tough, he is. he gin'rally says, `i not un'r'stan' english ver' well,' shakes his head an' grins, but the cappen never listens to his answers, bein' too busy loadin' and primin' for another broadside." the man to whom he referred cut short the conversation at this point by shouting down the stair:-- "hallo! gillie, you powder-monkey, where are my shoes?" "here they are, cappen, all ready; fit to do dooty as a lookin'-glass to shave yerself," cried the "powder-monkey," leaping up and leaving the room abruptly. gillie's opinion in regard to the madness of lewis was shared by several of his friends above stairs. doctor lawrence, especially, felt much anxiety about him, having overheard one or two conversations held by the guides on the subject of the young englishman's recklessness. "really, lewis," said the doctor, on one occasion, "you _must_ listen to a lecture from me, because you are in a measure under my charge." "i'm all attention, sir," said lewis meekly, as he sat down on the edge of his bed and folded his hands in his lap. "well then, to begin," said the doctor, with a half-serious smile, "i won't trouble you with my own opinion, to which you attach no weight--" "pardon me, lawrence, i attach great weight to it--or, rather, it has so much weight that i can scarcely bear it." "just so, and therefore you shan't have it. but you must admit that the opinion of a good guide is worth something. now, i heard antoine grennon the other day laying down some unquestionable principles to the professor--" "what! lecturing the professor?" interrupted lewis, "how very presumptuous." "he said," continued the doctor, "that the dangers connected with the ascent of these swiss mountains are _real_, and, unless properly provided against, may become terrible, if not fatal. he instanced your own tendency to go roving about among the glaciers _alone_. with a comrade or a guide attached to you by a rope there is no danger worth speaking of, but it must be as clear to you as it is to me that it when out on the mountains alone, you step on a snow-covered crevasse and break through, your instant death is inevitable." "yes, but," objected lewis, with that unwillingness to be convinced which is one of the chief characteristics of youth, "i always walk, when _alone_ on the glaciers, with the utmost caution, sounding the snow in front of me with the long handle of my axe at every step as i go." "if the guides do not find this always a sufficient protection for themselves, by what amazing power of self-sufficiency do you persuade yourself that it is sufficient for _you_?" demanded lawrence. "your question suffices, doctor," said lewis, laughing; "go on with your lecture, i'm all attention and, and humility." "not my lecture," retorted lawrence, "the guide's. he was very strong, i assure you, on the subject of men going on the high glaciers _without a rope_, or, which comes to the same thing, _alone_, and he was not less severe on those who are so foolhardy, or so ignorant, as to cross steep slopes of ice on new-fallen snow. nothing is easier, the new snow affording such good foothold, as you told us the other day when describing your adventures under the cliffs of monte rosa, and yet nothing is more dangerous, says antoine, for if the snow were to slip, as it is very apt to do, you would be smothered in it, or swept into a crevasse by it. lives are lost in the alps _every year_, i am told, owing to indifference to these two points. the guides say--and their opinions are corroborated by men of science and alpine experience--that it is dangerous to meddle with any slope exceeding degrees for several days after a heavy fall, and yet it is certain that slopes exceeding this angle are traversed annually by travellers who are ignorant, or reckless, or both. did you not say that the slope which you crossed the other day was a steeper angle than this, and the snow on it not more than twenty-four hours' old?" "guilty!" exclaimed lewis, with a sigh. "i condemn you, then," said lawrence, with a smile, "to a continuation of this lecture, and, be assured, the punishment is much lighter than you deserve. listen:--there are three unavoidable dangers in alpine climbing--" "please don't be long on each head," pleaded lewis, throwing himself back in his bed, while his friend placed the point of each finger of his right hand on a corresponding point of the left, and crossed his legs. "i won't. i shall be brief--brief as your life is likely to be if you don't attend to me. the three dangers are, as i have said, unavoidable; but two of them may be guarded against; the other cannot. first, there is danger from _falling rocks_. this danger may be styled positive. it hangs over the head like the sword of damocles. there is no avoiding it except by not climbing at all, for boulders and ice-blocks are perched here, and there, and everywhere, and no one can tell the moment when they shall fall. secondly, there is danger from crevasses--the danger of tumbling into one when crossing a bridge of snow, and the danger of breaking through a crust of snow which conceals one. this may be called a negative danger. it is reduced to almost nothing if you are tied to your comrade by a rope, and if the leader sounds with his staff as he walks along; but it changes from a negative to a positive danger to the man who is so mad as to go out _alone_. thirdly, there is danger from new snow on steep slopes, which is positive if you step on it when recently fallen, and when the slope is very steep; but is negative when you allow sufficient time for it to harden. while, however, it is certain that many deaths occur from these three dangers being neglected, it is equally true that the largest number of accidents which occur in the alps arise chiefly from momentary indiscretions, from false steps, the result of carelessness or self-confidence, and from men attempting to do what is beyond their powers. men who are too old for such fatigue, and men who, though young, are not sufficiently strong, usually come to grief. i close my lecture with a quotation from the writings of a celebrated mountaineer--`in all cases the man rather than the mountain is at fault.'" "there is truth in what you say," observed lewis, rising, with a yawn. "nay, but," returned his friend, seriously, "your mother, who is made very anxious by your reckless expeditions, begged me to impress these truths on you. will you promise me, like a good fellow, to consider them?" "i promise," said lewis, becoming serious in his turn, and taking his friend's hand; "but you must not expect sudden perfection to be exemplified in me.--come, let's go have a talk with le croix about his projected expedition after the chamois." up in the mountains now,--above some of the clouds undoubtedly, almost 'mong the stars, as gillie put it,--lewis wanders in company with baptist le croix, half-forgetful of his promise to lawrence. below them lies a world of hills and valleys; above towers a fairy-land of ice, cliff, and cloud. no human habitation is near. the only indications of man's existence are so faint, and so far off in the plains below, that houses are barely visible, and villages look like toys. a sea of cloud floats beneath them, and it is only through gaps in this sea that the terrestrial world is seen. piercing through it are the more prominent of the alpine peaks--the dark tremendous obelisk of the matterhorn towering in one direction, the not less tremendous and far grander head of mont blanc looming in another. the sun shines brightly over all, piercing and rendering semi-transparent some of the clouds, gilding the edges and deepening the shadows of others. "do you see anything, le croix?" asked lewis, as he reclined on a narrow ledge of rock recovering breath after a fatiguing climb, while his comrade peered intently through a telescope into the recesses of a dark mountain gorge that lay a little below them. for some moments the hunter made no reply. presently he closed the glass, and, with an air of satisfaction, said, "chamois!" "where?" asked lewis, rising eagerly and taking the glass. le croix carefully pointed out the spot but no effort on the part of the inexperienced youth could bring anything resembling the light and graceful form of a chamois into the field of vision. "never mind, le croix," he said, quickly returning the glass and picking up his rifle; "come along, let's have at them." "softly," returned the hunter; "we must get well to leeward of them before we can venture to approach." "lead where you will; you'll find me a quiet and unquestioning follower." the hunter at once turned, and, descending the mountain by a precipice which was so steep that they had in some places to drop from ledge to ledge, at last gained a position where the light air, that floated but scarce moved the clouds, came direct from the spot where the chamois lay. he then turned and made straight towards them. as they advanced the ground became more rugged and precipitous, so that their progress was unavoidably slow, and rendered more so by the necessity that lay on them of approaching their game without noise. when they had reached a spot where a sheer precipice appeared to render further progress impossible, the hunter stopped and said in a low tone, "look, they are too far off; a bullet could not reach them." lewis craned his neck over the cliff, and saw the chamois grazing quietly on a small patch of green that lay among brown rocks below. "what's to be done?" he asked anxiously. "couldn't we try a long shot?" "useless. your eyes are inexperienced. the distance is greater than you think." "what, then, shall we do?" le croix did not answer. he appeared to be revolving some plan in his mind. turning at last to his companion, he said-- "i counsel that you remain here. it is a place near to which they must pass if driven by some one from below. i will descend." "but how descend?" asked lewis. "i see no path by which even a goat could get down." "leave that to me," replied the hunter. "keep perfectly still till you see them within range. have your rifle ready; do not fire in haste; there will be time for a slow and sure aim. most bad hunters owe their ill-luck to haste." with this advice le croix crept quietly round a projecting rock, and, dropping apparently over the precipice, disappeared. solitude is suggestive. as long as his companion was with him, lewis felt careless and easy in mind, but now that he was left alone in one of the wildest and grandest scenes he had yet beheld, he became solemnised, and could not help feeling, that without his guide he would be very helpless in such a place. being alone in the mountains was not indeed new to him. as we have already said, he had acquired the character of being much too reckless in wandering about by himself; but there was a vast difference between going alone over ground which he had traversed several times with guides in the immediate neighbourhood of chamouni, and being left in a region to which he had been conducted by paths so intricate, tortuous, and difficult, that the mere effort to trace back in memory even the last few miles of the route confused him. there was a mysterious stillness, too, about everything around him; and the fogs, which floated in heavy masses above and below, gave a character of changeful wildness to the scenery. "what a place to get lost in and benighted!" he thought. then his mind, with that curious capacity for sudden flight, which is one of the chief characteristics of thought, leaped down the precipices, up which he had toiled so slowly, sped away over hill and dale, and landed him in chamouni at the feet of nita horetzki. once there, he had no desire to move. he kept looking steadily in her pretty face, speculated as to the nature of the charm that rendered it so sweet, wondered what was the cause of the lines of care that at times rippled her smooth white brow, longed to become the sharer of her grief, and her comforter, and pondered the improbability of his ever being in a position to call her nita--darling nita--sweetest nita--exquisite nita! he was still engaged in creating adjectives at chamouni when he was brought suddenly back to the alpine heights by the sound of a shot. it was repeated in a hundred echoes by the surrounding cliffs, as he seized his rifle and gazed over the precipice. a puff of smoke, hanging like a cloudlet, guided his eyes. not far in front of it he saw the fawn-like form of a chamois stretched in death upon the ground, while two others were seen bounding with amazing precision and elasticity over the rocks towards him. he turned at once to an opening among the rocks at his right, for, even to his unpractised eye, it was obviously impossible that anything without wings could approach him in front or at his left. coolness and promptitude were characteristics of the youth; so that he sat crouching with the rifle, resting in the palm of his left hand, over one knee, as motionless as if he had been chiselled from the rock against which he leaned; but his natural coolness of deportment could not prevent, though it concealed, a throbbing of anxiety lest the game should pass out of reach, or behind rocks, which would prevent his seeing it. for an instant he half-rose, intending to rush to some more commanding elevation, but remembering the parting advice of le croix, he sank down again and remained steady. scarcely had he done so when the clatter of bounding hoofs was heard. he knew well that the open space, across which he now felt sure the chamois must pass, was only broad enough to afford the briefest possible time for an aim. he raised the rifle more than half-way to the shoulder. another instant and a chamois appeared like an arrow shooting athwart the hill-side before him. he fired, and missed! the bullet, however, which had been destined for the heart of the first animal, was caught in the brain of that which followed. it sprang high into the air, and, rolling over several times, lay stretched at full length on the rocks. we need not pause to describe the rejoicing of the young sportsman over his first chamois, or to detail lecroix's complimentary observations thereon. having deposited their game in a place of safety, the hunter suggested that, as there was no chance of their seeing any more in that locality, it would be well to devote the remainder of the day to exploring the higher slopes of a neighbouring glacier, for, familiar as he was with all the grander features of the region, there were some of the minuter details, he said, with which he was unacquainted. lewis was a little surprised at the proposal, but, being quite satisfied with his success, and not unwilling to join in anything that smacked of exploration, he readily assented; and, ere long, the two aspiring spirits were high above the spot where the chamois had fallen, and struggling with the difficulties of couloir and crevasse. before quitting the lower ground, they had deposited their game and rifles in a cave well known to le croix, in which they intended to pass the night, and they now advanced armed only with their long-handled alpine hatchets, without which implements it is impossible to travel over glaciers. being both of them strong in wind and limb, they did not pause often to rest, though lewis occasionally called a momentary halt to enjoy the magnificent prospect. during one of these pauses a dark object was seen moving over the ice far below them. le croix pointed to it, and said that it approached them. "what is it--a crow?" asked lewis. "more like a man; but it is neither," returned the hunter, adjusting his telescope; "yes, it is, as i fancied, a chamois." "then it cannot have seen us," said lewis, "else it would not approach." "nay, it approaches because it has seen us. it mistakes us for relatives. let us sit down to deceive it a little." they crouched beside a piece of ice, and the chamois advanced, until its pretty form became recognisable by the naked eye. its motions, however, were irregular. it was evidently timid. sometimes it came on at full gallop, then paused to look, and uttered a loud piping sound, advancing a few paces with caution, and pausing to gaze again. le croix replied with an imitative whistle to its call. it immediately bounded forward with pleasure, but soon again hesitated, and stopped. at last it seemed to become aware of its mistake, for, turning at a tangent, it scoured away over the ice like wind swooping down from the mountain-summits, bounded over the crevasses like an india-rubber ball, and was quickly out of sight. while gazing with profound interest at this graceful creature, the explorers were not at first aware that a dark mass of inky cloud was rapidly bearing down on them, and that one of those wild storms which sweep frequently over the high alps seemed to be gathering. "we must make haste, if we would gain the shelter of our cave," said le croix, rising. as he spoke, a low rumbling sound was heard behind them. they turned just in time to see a small avalanche of rocks hopping down the cliffs towards them. it was so far off, and looked such an innocent rolling of pebbles, that lewis regarded it as an insignificant phenomenon. his companion formed a better estimate of its character, but being at least five hundred yards to one side of the couloir or snow-slope, down which it rushed, he judged that they were safe. he was mistaken. some of the largest stones flew past quite near them, several striking the glacier as they passed, and sending clouds of ice-dust over them, and one, as large as a hogshead, bounding, with awful force, straight over their heads. they turned instantly to hasten from so dangerous a spot, but were arrested by another and much louder rumbling sound. "quick, fly, monsieur!" exclaimed le croix, setting his young companion the example. truly there was cause for haste. a sub-glacial lake among the heights above had burst its icy barriers, and, down the same couloir from which the smaller avalanche had sprung, a very ocean of boulders, mud, ice, and _debris_ came crashing and roaring with a noise like the loudest thunder, with this difference, that there was no intermission of the roar for full quarter of an hour; only, at frequent intervals, a series of pre-eminent peals were heard, when boulders, from six to ten feet in diameter, met with obstacles, and dashed them aside, or broke themselves into atoms. our hunters fled for their lives, and barely gained the shelter of a giant boulder, when the skirts of the hideous torrent roared past leaped over an ice-cliff, and was swallowed up by the insatiable crevasses of the glacier below. for several minutes after they had reached, and stood panting in, a position of safety, they listened to the thunderous roar of alpine artillery, until it died slowly away--as if unwillingly-- in the light pattering of pebbles. gratitude to the almighty for deliverance from a great danger was the strongest feeling in the heart of the chamois-hunter. profound astonishment and joy at having witnessed such an amazing sight, quickened the pulse of lewis. "that was a narrow escape, le croix?" "it was. i never see such a sight without a shudder, because i lost a brother in such an avalanche. it was on the slopes of the jungfrau. he was literally broken to fragments by it." lewis expressed sympathy, and his feelings were somewhat solemnised by the graphic recital of the details of the sad incident with which the hunter entertained him, as they descended the mountain rapidly. in order to escape an impending storm, which was evidently brewing in the clouds above, lewis suggested that they should diverge from the route by which they had ascended, and attempt a short cut by a steeper part of the mountains. le croix looked round and pondered. "i don't like diverging into unknown parts when in a hurry, and with the day far spent," he said. "one never knows when a sheer precipice will shut up the way in places like this." the youth, however, was confident, and the man of experience was too amiable and yielding. there was also urgent reason for haste. it was therefore decided that the steeper slopes should be attempted. they began with a glissade. a very steep snow-slope happened to be close at hand. it stretched uninterruptedly down several hundred feet to one of the terraces, into which the precipitous mountainside at that place was cut. "will you try?" asked le croix, looking doubtfully at his companion. "of course i will," replied lewis, shortly. "where you choose to go i will follow." "have you ever done such work before?" "yes, often, though never on quite so steep or long a slope." le croix was apparently satisfied. he sat down on the summit of the slope, fixed the spiked end of his axe in the snow, resting heavily on the handle, in order to check his descent, and hitched himself forward. "keep steady and don't roll over," he cried, as he shot away. the snow rose and trailed like a white tail behind him. his speed increased almost to that of an avalanche, and in a few seconds he was at the bottom. lewis seated himself in precisely the same manner, but overbalanced himself when halfway down, swung round, lost self-command, let slip his axe, and finally went head over heels, with legs and arms flying wildly. le croix, half-expecting something of the kind, was prepared. he had re-ascended the slope a short way, and received the human avalanche on his right shoulder, was knocked down violently as a matter of course, and the two went spinning in a heap together to the bottom. "not hurt, i hope?" cried lewis, jumping up and looking at his comrade with some anxiety. "no, monsieur," replied le croix, quietly, as he shook the snow from his garments--"and you?" "oh! i'm all right. that was a splendid beginning. we shall get down to our cave in no time at this rate." the hunter shook his head. "it is not all glissading," he said, as they continued the descent by clambering down the face of a precipice. some thousands of feet below them lay the tortuous surface of a glacier, on which they hoped to be able to walk towards their intended night-bivouac, but the cliffs leading to this grew steeper as they proceeded. some hours' work was before them ere the glacier could be reached, and the day was already drawing towards its close. a feeling of anxiety kept them both silent as they pushed on with the utmost possible speed, save when it was necessary for one to direct the other as to his foothold. on gaining each successive ledge of the terraced hill-side, they walked along it in the hope of reaching better ground, or another snow-slope; but each ledge ended in a precipice, so that there was no resource left but to scramble down to the ledge below to find a similar disappointment. the slopes also increased, rather than decreased, in steepness, yet so gradually, that the mountaineers at last went dropping from point to point down the sheer cliffs without fully realising the danger of their position. at a certain point they came to the head of a slope so steep, that the snow had been unable to lie on it, and it was impossible to glissade on the pure ice. it was quite possible, however, to cut foot-holes down. le croix had with him a stout manilla rope of about three hundred feet in length. with this tied round his waist, and lewis, firmly planted, holding on to it, he commenced the staircase. two blows sufficed for each step, yet two hours were consumed before the work was finished. re-ascending, he tied the rope round lewis, and thus enabled him to descend with a degree of confidence which he could not have felt if unattached. le croix himself descended without this moral support, but, being as sure-footed as a chamois, it mattered little. pretty well exhausted by their exertions, they now found themselves at the summit of a precipice so perpendicular and unbroken, that a single glance sufficed to convince them of the utter impossibility of further descent in that quarter. the ledge on which they stood was not more than three feet broad. below them the glacier appeared in the fading light to be as far off as ever. above, the cliffs frowned like inaccessible battlements. they were indeed like flies clinging to a wall, and, to add to their difficulties, the storm which had threatened now began in earnest. a cloud as black as pitch hung in front of them. suddenly, from its heart, there gushed a blinding flash of lightning, followed, almost without interval, by a crash of thunder. the echoes took up the sounds, hurling them back and forward among the cliffs as if cyclopean mountain spirits were playing tennis with boulders. rain also descended in torrents, and for some time the whole scene became as dark as if overspread with the wing of night. crouching under a slight projection of rock, the explorers remained until the first fury of the squall was over. fortunately, it was as short-lived as violent, but its effects were disagreeable, for cataracts now poured on them as they hurried along the top of the precipice vainly looking for a way of escape. at last, on coming to one of those checks which had so often met them that day, le croix turned and said-- "there is no help for it, monsieur, we must spend the night here." "here!" exclaimed lewis, glancing at the cliffs above and the gulf below. "it is not a pleasant resting-place," replied the hunter, with a sad smile, "but we cannot go on. it will be quite dark in half an hour, when an effort to advance would insure our destruction. the little light that remains must be spent in seeking out a place to lie on." the two men, who were thrown thus together in such perilous circumstances, were possessed of more than average courage, yet it would be false to say that fear found no place in their breasts. on the contrary, each confessed to the other the following day that his heart had sunk within him as he thought of the tremendous cliffs against which they were stuck, with descent and ascent equally impossible, a narrow ledge on the precipice-edge for their bed, and a long, wild night before them. cowardice does not consist in simple fear. it consists in the fear of trifles; in unreasonable fear, and in such fear as incapacitates a man for action. the situation of our explorers was not one of slight danger. they had the best of reason for anxiety, because they knew not whether escape, even in daylight, were possible. as to incapacity for action, the best proof that fear had not brought them to that condition lay in the fact, that they set about preparations for spending the night with a degree of vigour amounting almost to cheerfulness. after the most careful survey, only one spot was found wider than the rest of the ledge, and it was not more than four feet wide, the difference being caused by a slight hollow under the rock, which thus might overhang them--one of them at least--and form a sensation of canopy. at its best, a bed only four feet wide is esteemed narrow enough for one, and quite inadequate for two, but when it is considered that the bed now selected was of hard granite, rather round-backed than flat, with a sheer precipice descending a thousand feet, more or less, on one side of it, and a slope in that direction, there will be no difficulty in conceiving something of the state of mind in which lewis stoutley and baptist le croix lay down to repose till morning in wet garments, with the thermometer somewhere between thirty-two and zero, fahrenheit. to prevent their rolling off the ledge when asleep, they built on the edge of the cliff a wall of the largest loose stones they could find. it was but an imaginary protection at best, for the slightest push sent some of the stones toppling over, and it necessarily curtailed the available space. no provisions, save one small piece of bread, had been brought, as they had intended returning to their cave to feast luxuriously. having eaten the bread, they prepared to lie down. it was agreed that only one at a time should sleep; the other was to remain awake, to prevent the sleeper from inadvertently moving. it was also arranged, that he whose turn it was to sleep should lie on the inner side. but here arose a difference. le croix insisted that lewis should have the first sleep. lewis, on the other hand, declared that he was not sleepy; that the attempt to sleep would only waste the time of both, and that therefore le croix should have the first. the contention was pretty sharp for a time, but the obstinacy of the englishman prevailed. the hunter gave in, and at once lay down straight out with his face to the cliff, and as close to it as he could squeeze. lewis immediately lay down outside of him, and, throwing one arm over his lecroix's broad chest gave him a half-jocular hug that a bear might have enjoyed, and told him to go to sleep. in doing this he dislodged a stone from the outer wall, which went clattering down into the dark gulf. almost immediately the deep, regular breathing of the wearied hunter told that he was already in the land of nod. it was a strange, romantic position; and lewis rejoiced, in the midst of his anxieties, as he lay there wakefully guarding the chamois-hunter while he slept. it appeared to lewis that his companion felt the need of a guardian, for he grasped with both hands the arm which he had thrown round him. how greatly he wished that his friends at chamouni could have even a faint conception of his position that night! what would lawrence have thought of it? and the captain,--how would _he_ have conducted himself in the circumstances? his mother, emma, the count, antoine, gillie, susan--every one had a share in his thoughts, as he lay wakeful and watching on the giddy ledge--and nita, as a great under-current like the sub-glacial rivers, kept flowing continually, and twining herself through all. mingled with these thoughts was the sound of avalanches, which ever and anon broke in upon the still night with a muttering like distant thunder, or with a startling roar as masses of ice tottered over the brinks of the cascades, or boulders loosened by the recent rain lost their hold and involved a host of smaller fry in their fall. twining and tying these thoughts together into a wild entanglement quite in keeping with the place, the youth never for one moment lost the sense of an ever present and imminent danger--he scarce knew what--and the necessity for watchfulness. this feeling culminated when he beheld nita horetzki suddenly appear standing close above him on a most dangerous-looking ledge of rock! uttering a loud cry of alarm he sought to start up, and in so doing sent three-quarters of the protecting wall down the precipice with an appalling rush and rumble. unquestionably he would have followed it if he had not been held by the wrist as if by a vice! "hallo! take care, monsieur," cried le croix, in a quick anxious tone, still holding tightly to his companion's arm. "why! what? le croix--i saw--i--i--saw--well, well--i do really believe i have been--i'm ashamed to say--" "yes, monsieur, you've been asleep," said the hunter, with a quiet laugh, gently letting go his hold of the arm as he became fully persuaded that lewis was by that time quite awake and able to take care of himself. "have you been asleep too?" asked lewis. "truly, no!" replied the hunter, rising with care, "but you have had full three hours of it, so it's my turn now." "you don't say so!" exclaimed lewis. "indeed i do; and now, please, get next the cliff and let me lie outside, so that i may rest with an easy mind." lewis opposed him no longer. he rose, and they both stood up to stamp their feet and belabour their chests for some time--the cold at such a height being intense, while their wet garments and want of covering rendered them peculiarly unfitted to withstand it. the effort was not very successful. the darkness of the night, the narrowness of their ledge, and the sleepiness of their spirits rendering extreme caution necessary. at last the languid blood began to flow; a moderate degree of warmth was restored, and, lying down again side by side in the new position, the hunter and the student sought and found repose. chapter seventeen. danger and death on the glacier. daylight--blessed daylight! how often longed for by the sick and weary! how imperfectly appreciated by those whose chief thoughts and experiences of night are fitly expressed by the couplet:-- "bed, bed, delicious bed, haven of rest for the weary head." daylight came at last, to the intense relief of poor lewis, who had become restless as the interminable night wore on, and the cold seemed to penetrate to his very marrow. although unable to sleep, however, he lay perfectly still, being anxious not to interrupt the rest of his companion. but le croix, like the other, did not sleep soundly; he awoke several times, and, towards morning, began to dream and mutter short sentences. at first lewis paid no attention to this, but at length, becoming weary of his own thoughts, he set himself with a half-amused feeling to listen. the amusement gave place to surprise and to a touch of sadness when he found that the word `gold' frequently dropped from the sleeper's lips. "can it be," he thought, "that this poor fellow is really what they say, a half-crazed gold-hunter? i hope not. it seems nonsensical. i never heard of there being gold in these mountains. yet it may be so, and too much longing after gold is said to turn people crazy. i shouldn't wonder if it did." thoughts are proverbial wanderers, and of a wayward spirit, and not easy of restraint. they are often very honest too, and refuse to flatter. as the youth lay on his back gazing dreamily from that giddy height on the first faint tinge of light that suffused the eastern sky, his thoughts rambled on in the same channel. "strange, that a chamois-hunter should become a gold-hunter. how much more respectable the former occupation, and yet how many gold-hunters there are in the world! gamblers are gold-hunters; and i was a gambler once! aha! mr lewis, the cap once fitted you! fitted, did i say? it fits still. have i not been playing billiards every night nearly since i came here, despite captain wopper's warnings and the lesson i got from poor leven? poor leven indeed! it's little gold that he has, and _i_ robbed him. however, i paid him back, that's one comfort, and my stakes now are mere trifles--just enough to give interest to the game. yet, shame on you, lewie; can't you take interest in a game for its own sake? the smallest coin staked involves the spirit of gambling. you shouldn't do it, my boy, you know that well enough, if you'd only let your conscience speak out. and nita seems not to like it too--ah, nita! she's as good as gold--as good! ten million times better than the finest gold. i wonder why that queer careworn look comes over her angel face when she hears me say that i've been having a game of billiards? i might whisper some flattering things to myself in reference to this, were it not that she seems just as much put out when any one else talks about it. ah, nita!" it is unnecessary to follow the youth's thoughts further, for, having got upon nita, they immediately ceased their wayward wandering practices and remained fixed on that theme. soon afterwards, the light being sufficient the mountaineers rose and continued their descent which was accomplished after much toil and trouble, and they proceeded at a quick pace over the glacier towards the place where the chamois had been left the previous day. "why are you so fond of gold, le croix?" said lewis, abruptly, and in a half-jesting tone, as they walked along. the hunter's countenance flushed deeply, and he turned with a look of severity towards his companion. "who said that i was fond of it?" "a very good friend of mine," replied lewis, with a light laugh. "he can be no friend of mine," returned the hunter, with contracted brows. "i'm not so sure of that," said the other; "at least if you count _yourself_ a friend. you whispered so much about gold in your dreams this morning that i came to the conclusion you were rather fond of it." the expression of the hunter changed completely. there seemed to be a struggle between indignation and sorrow in his breast as he stopped, and, facing his companion, said, with vehemence-- "monsieur, i do not count _myself_ a friend. i have ever found _self_ to be my greatest enemy. the good god knows how hard i have fought against self for years, and how often--oh, how often--i have been beaten down and overcome. god help me. it is a weary struggle." lecroix's countenance and tones changed as rapidly as the cloud-forms on his own mountain peaks. his last words were uttered with the deepest pathos, and his now pale face was turned upward, as if he sought for hope from a source higher than the "everlasting hills." lewis was amazed at the sudden burst of feeling in one who was unusually quiet and sedate, and stood looking at him in silence. "young man," resumed the hunter, in a calmer tone, laying his large brown hand impressively on the youth's shoulder, "you have heard aright. i have loved gold too much. if i had resisted the temptation at the first i might have escaped, but i _shall_ yet be saved, ay, despite of self, for there is a saviour! for years i have sought for gold among these mountains. they tell me it is to be found there, but i have never found it. to-day i intended to have visited yonder yellow cliffs high up on the shoulder of the pass. do you see them?" he pointed eagerly, and a strange gleam was in his blue eyes as he went on to say rapidly, and without waiting for an answer-- "i have not yet been up there. it looks a likely place--a very likely place--but your words have turned me from my purpose. the evil spirit is gone for to-day--perhaps for ever. come," he added, in a tone of firm determination, "we will cross this crevasse and hasten down to the cave." he wrenched himself round while he spoke, as if the hand of some invisible spirit had been holding him, and hurried quickly towards a wide crevasse which crossed their path at that place. "had we not better tie ourselves together before attempting it?" suggested lewis, hastening after him. le croix did not answer, but quickened his pace to a run. "not there!" exclaimed lewis, in sudden alarm. "it is almost too wide for a leap, and the snow on the other side overhangs. stop! for god's sake--not there!" he rushed forward, but was too late. le croix was already on the brink of the chasm; next moment, with a tremendous bound, he cleared it, and alighted on the snow beyond. his weight snapped off the mass, his arms were thrown wildly aloft, and, with a shout, rather than a cry, he fell headlong into the dark abyss! horror-stricken, unable to move or cry out lewis stood on the edge. from far down in the blue depths of the crevasse there arose a terrible sound, as if of a heavy blow. it was followed by the familiar rattling of masses of falling ice, which seemed to die away in the profound heart of the glacier. the "weary struggle" had come to an end at last. the chamois-hunter had found a tomb, like too many, alas! of his bold-hearted countrymen, among those great fields of ice, over which he had so often sped with sure foot and cool head in days gone by. lewis was as thoroughly convinced that his late comrade was dead, as if he had seen his mangled corpse before him, but with a sort of passionate unbelief he refused to admit the fact. he stood perfectly motionless, as if transfixed and frozen, in the act of bending over the crevasse. he listened intently and long for a sound which yet he knew could never come. an oppressive, sickening silence reigned around him, which he suddenly broke with a great and terrible cry, as, recovering from his stupor, he hurried wildly to and fro, seeking for some slope by which he might descend to the rescue of his friend. vainly he sought. both walls of the crevasse were sheer precipices of clear ice. at one spot, indeed, he found a short slope, and, madly seizing his axe, he cut foot-holds down it, descending, quite regardless of danger, until the slope became too perpendicular to admit of farther progress. struck then with alarm for himself, he returned cautiously to the top, while beads of cold perspiration stood on his pale brow. a few minutes more, and he became sufficiently calm to realise the fact that poor le croix was indeed beyond all hope. as the truth was forced into his heart he covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly. it was long ere the passionate burst of feeling subsided. lewis was very impressionable, and his young heart recoiled in agony from such a shock. although the hunter had been to him nothing but a pleasant guide, he now felt as if he had lost a friend. when his mind was capable of connected thought he dwelt on the unfortunate man's kindly, modest, and bold disposition, and especially on the incidents of the previous night, when they two had lain side by side like brothers on their hard couch. at last he rose, and, with a feeling of dead weight crushing his spirit began to think of continuing his descent. he felt that, although there was no hope of rescuing life, still no time should be lost in rousing the guides of chamouni and recovering, if possible, the remains. other thoughts now came upon him with a rush. he was still high up among the great cliffs, and alone! the vale of chamouni was still far distant, and he was bewildered as to his route, for, in whatever direction he turned, nothing met his eye save wildly-riven glaciers or jagged cliffs and peaks. he stood in the midst of a scene of savage grandeur, which corresponded somewhat with his feelings. his knowledge of ice-craft, if we may use the expression, was by that time considerable, but he felt that it was not sufficient for the work that lay before him; besides, what knowledge he possessed could not make up for the want of a companion and a rope, while, to add to his distress, weakness, resulting partly from hunger, began to tell on him. perhaps it was well that such thoughts interfered with those that unmanned him, for they served to rouse his spirit and nerve him to exertion. feeling that his life, under god, depended on the wisdom, vigour, and promptitude of his actions during the next few hours, he raised his eyes upward for a moment, and, perhaps for the first time in his life, asked help and guidance of his creator, with the feeling strong upon him that help and guidance were sorely needed. almost at the commencement of his descent an event occurred which taught him the necessity of extreme caution. this was the slipping of his axe. he had left the fatal crevasse only a few hundred yards behind him, when he came to a fracture in the ice that rendered it impossible to advance in that direction any longer; he therefore turned aside, but was met by a snow slope which terminated in another yawning crevasse. while standing on the top of this, endeavouring to make up his mind as to the best route to be followed, he chanced to swing his axe carelessly and let it fall. instantly it turned over the edge, and shot like an arrow down the slope. he was ice-man enough to know that the loss of his axe in such circumstances was equivalent to the signing of his death-warrant and his face flushed with the gush of feeling that resulted from the accident. fortunately, the head of the weapon caught on a lamp of ice just at the edge of the crevasse, and the handle hung over it. something akin to desperation now took possession of the youth. the slope _was_ far too steep to slide down. not having his axe, it was impossible to cut the necessary steps. in any case it was excessively dangerous, for, although the snow was not new, it lay on such an incline that the least weight on it might set it in motion, in which case inevitable death would have been the result. the case was too critical to admit of delay or thought. at all hazards the axe must be recovered. he therefore lay down with his face to the slope, and began to kick foot-holds with the toe of his boots. it was exceedingly slow and laborious work, for he dared not to kick with all his force, lest he should lose his balance, and, indeed, he only retained it by thrusting both arms firmly into the upper holes and fixing one foot deep in a lower hole, while with the other he cautiously kicked each new step in succession. at last, after toiling steadily thus for two hours, he regained his axe. the grip with which he seized the handle, and the tender feeling with which he afterwards laid it on his shoulder, created in him a new idea as to the strange affection with which man can be brought to regard inanimate objects, and the fervency with which he condemned his former flippancy, and vowed never more to go out on the high alps alone, formed a striking commentary on the adage, "experience teaches fools!" for some time after this lewis advanced with both speed and caution. at each point of vantage that he reached he made a rapid and careful survey of all the ground before him, decided on the exact route which he should take, as far as the eye could range, and then refused every temptation to deviate from it save when insurmountable obstacles presented themselves in the shape of unbridged crevasses or sheer ice-precipices. such obstacles were painfully numerous, but by indomitable perseverance, and sometimes by a desperate venture, he overcame them. once he got involved in a succession of crevasses which ran into each other, so that he found himself at last walking on the edge of a wedge of ice not a foot broad, with unfathomable abysses on either side. the wedge terminated at last in a thin edge with a deep crevasse beyond. he was about to retrace his steps--for the tenth time in that place--when it struck him that if he could only reach the other side of the crevasse on his right, he might gain a level patch of ice that appeared to communicate with the sounder part of the glacier beyond. he paused and drew his breath. it was not much of a leap. in ordinary circumstances he could have bounded over it like a chamois, but he was weak now from hunger and fatigue; besides which, the wedge on which he stood was rotten, and might yield to his bound, while the opposite edge seemed insecure and might fail him, like the mass that had proved fatal to le croix. he felt the venture to be desperate, but the way before him was yet very long, and the day was declining. screwing up his courage he sprang over, and a powerful shudder shook his frame when he alighted safe on the other side. farther down the glacier he came to a level stretch, and began to walk with greater speed, neglecting for a little the precaution of driving the end of his axe-handle into the snow in front at each step. the result was, that he stepped suddenly on the snow that concealed a narrow crevasse. it sank at once, sending something like a galvanic shock through his frame. the shock effected what his tired muscles might have failed to accomplish. it caused him to fling himself backward with cat-like agility, and thus he escaped narrowly. it is needless to say that thereafter he proceeded with a degree of care and caution that might have done credit even to a trained mountaineer. at last lewis found it necessary to quit the glacier and scale the mountains by way of a pass which led into the gorge from which he hoped to reach the vale of chamouni. he was in great perplexity here, for, the aspect of the country being unfamiliar to his eye, he feared that he must have lost his way. nothing but decision, however, and prompt action could serve him now. to have vacillated or retraced part of his steps, would have involved his spending a second night among the icy solitudes without shelter; and this he felt, fatigued and fasting as he was, would have been quite beyond his powers of endurance. he therefore crossed the bergschrund, or crevasse between the glacier and the cliffs, on a snow-bridge, faced the mountain-side once more, and, toiling upwards, reached the summit of the pass a little before sunset. fortunately the weather continued fine, and the country below appeared much less rugged than that over which he had passed, but he had not yet got clear of difficulties. just below him lay the longest ice-slope, or couloir, he had hitherto encountered. the snow had been completely swept off its surface, and it bore evidence of being the channel down which rushed the boulders and obelisks of ice that strewed the plain below. to reach that plain by any other route would have involved a circuit of unknown extent. the risk was great but the danger of delay was greater. he swung the heavy axe round his head, and began at once the tedious process of cutting steps. being an apt scholar, he had profited well from the lessons taught by le croix and others. quick, yet measured and firm, was each stroke. a forced calmness rested on his face, for, while the ice-blocks above, apparently nodding to their fall, warned him to make haste, the fear of slipping a foot, or losing balance, compelled him to be very cautious. in such a case, a rope round the waist and a friend above would have been of inestimable value. when about two-thirds of the way down, the exhausted youth was forced to stop for a few seconds to rest. just then several pieces of ice, the size of a man's head, rushed down the couloir and dashed close past him. they served to show the usual direction of an avalanche. fearing they were the prelude to something worse, he quickly cut his way to the side of the couloir. he was not a moment too soon. glancing up in alarm, he saw the foundations of one of the largest ice-masses give way. the top bent over slowly at first, then fell forward with a crash and broke into smaller fragments, which dashed like lightning down the slope, leaping from side to side, and carrying huge rocks and masses of _debris_ to the plain with horrible din. poor lewis felt his spirit and his body shrink. he had, however, chosen his position well. nothing save a cloud of dust and snow reached him, but the part of the slope down which he had passed was swept clean as with the besom of destruction. it was an awful ordeal for one so young and inexperienced, for the risk had to be encountered again. "the sooner the better," thought he, and immediately swayed aloft his axe again, lifting, as he did so, his heart to his maker for the second time that day. a few minutes more, and he stood at the foot of the couloir. without a moment's pause he hurried on, and finally reached the lower slopes of the mountains. here, to his inexpressible joy and thankfulness, he fell in with a sheep-track, and, following it up, was soon on the high-road of the valley. but it was not till far on in the night that he reached chamouni, scarce able to drag himself along. he went straight to the bureau of guides, where a profound sensation was created by the sad tidings which he brought. antoine grennon happened to be there, and to him lewis told his sad tale, at the same time eagerly suggesting that an immediate search should be made for the body, and offering to go back at once to guide them to the scene of the accident. antoine looked earnestly in the youth's face. "ah, monsieur," he said, shaking his head, "you are not fit to guide any one to-night. besides, i know the place well. if poor le croix has fallen into that crevasse, he is now past all human aid." "but why not start at once?" said lewis, anxiously, "if there is but the merest vestige of a chance--" "there is no chance, monsieur, if your description is correct; besides, no man could find the spot in a dark night. but rest assured that we will not fail to do our duty to our comrade. a party will start off within an hour, proceed as far as is possible during the night, and, at the first gleam of day, we will push up the mountains. we need no one to guide us, but you need rest. go, in the morning you may be able to follow us." we need scarcely say that the search was unavailing. the body of the unfortunate hunter was never recovered. in all probability it still lies entombed in the ice of the great glacier. chapter eighteen. a mystery cleared up. "is nita unwell, emma?" asked lewis early one morning, not long after the sad event narrated in the last chapter. "i think not. she is merely depressed, as we all are, by the melancholy death of poor le croix." "i can well believe it," returned lewis. "nevertheless, it seems to me that her careworn expression and deep despondency cannot be accounted for by that event." "you know that her father left last week very suddenly," said emma. "perhaps there may be domestic affairs that weigh heavily on her. i know not, for she never refers to her family or kindred. the only time i ventured to do so she appeared unhappy, and quickly changed the subject." the cousins were sauntering near their hotel and observed dr lawrence hurry from the front door. "hallo! lawrence," called out lewis. "ah! the very man i want," exclaimed the doctor, hastening to join them, "do you know that miss horetzki is ill?" "how strange that we should just this moment have referred to her looking ill! not seriously ill, i trust," said emma, with a troubled look in her sympathetic eyes. "i hope not, but her case puzzles me more than any that i have yet met with. i fancy it may be the result of an overstrained nervous system, but there appears no present cause for that. she evidently possesses a vigorous constitution, and every one here is kind to her--her father particularly so. even if she were in love, which she doesn't seem to be (a faint twinkle in the doctor's eye here), that would not account for her condition." "i can't help thinking," observed lewis, with a troubled look, "that her father is somehow the cause of her careworn looks. no doubt he is very kind to her in public, but may there not be a very different state of things behind the scenes?" "i think not. the count's temper is gentle, and his sentiments are good. if he were irascible there might be something behind the scenes, for when restraint is removed and temper gets headway, good principles may check but cannot always prevent unkindness. now, emma, i have sought you and lewis to ask for counsel. i do not say that nita is seriously ill, but she is ill enough to cause those who love her--as i know you do--some anxiety. it is very evident to me, from what she says, that she eagerly desires her father to be with her, and yet when i suggest that he should be sent for, she nervously declines to entertain the proposal. if this strange state of mind is allowed to go on, it will aggravate the feverish attack from which she now suffers. i wish, therefore, to send for the count without letting her know. do you think this a wise step?" "undoubtedly; but why ask such a question of me?" said emma, with a look of surprise. "first, because you are nita's friend--not perhaps, a friend of long standing, but, if i mistake not, a very loving one; and, secondly, as well as chiefly, because i want you to find out from her where her father is at present, and let me know." "there is something disagreeably underhand in such a proceeding," objected emma. "you know that a doctor is, or ought to be, considered a sort of pope," returned lawrence. "i absolve you from all guilt by assuring you that there is urgent need for pursuing the course i suggest." "well, i will at all events do what i can to help you," said emma. "shall i find her in her own room?" "yes, in bed, attended, with mrs stoutley's permission, by susan quick. get rid of the maid before entering on the subject." in a few minutes emma returned to the doctor, who still walked up and down in earnest conversation with lewis. she had succeeded, she said, in persuading nita to let her father be sent for, and the place to which he had gone for a few days was saxon, in the rhone valley. the count's address had also been obtained, but nita had stipulated that the messenger should on no account disturb her father by entering the house, but should send for him and wait outside. "strange prohibition!" exclaimed lawrence. "however, we must send off a messenger without delay." "stay," said lewis, detaining his friend; "there seems to be delicacy as well as mystery connected with this matter, you must therefore allow me to be the messenger." lawrence had no objection to the proposal, and in less than an hour lewis, guided by antoine grennon, was on the road to martigny by way of the celebrated pass of the tete-noire. the guide was one of nature's gentlemen. although low in the social scale, and trained in a rugged school, he possessed that innate refinement of sentiment and feeling--a gift of god sometimes transmitted through a gentle mother--which makes a true gentleman. among men of the upper ranks this refinement of soul may be counterfeited by the superficial polish of manners; among those who stand lower in the social scale it cannot be counterfeited at all, but still less can it be concealed. as broadcloth can neither make nor mar a true gentleman, so fustian cannot hide one. if antoine grennon had been bred "at court," and arrayed in sumptuous apparel, he could not have been more considerate than he was of the feelings and wishes of others, or more gentle, yet manly, in his demeanour. if, on an excursion, you wished to proceed in a certain direction, antoine never suggested that you should go in another, unless there were insurmountable difficulties in the way. if you chanced to grow weary, you could not have asked antoine to carry your top-coat, because he would have observed your condition and anticipated your wishes. if you had been inclined to talk he would have chatted away by the hour on every subject that came within the range of his knowledge, and if you had taken him beyond his depth, he would have listened by the hour with profound respect, obviously pleased, and attempting to understand you. yet he would not have "bored" you. he possessed great tact. he would have allowed you to lead the conversation, and when you ceased to do so he would have stopped. he never looked sulky or displeased. he never said unkind things, though he often said and did kind ones, and, with all that, was as independent in his opinions as the whistling wind among his native glaciers. in fact he was a prince among guides, and a pre-eminently unselfish man. heigho! if all the world--you and i, reader, included--bore a stronger resemblance to antoine grennon, we should have happy times of it. well, well, don't let us sigh despairingly because of our inability to come up to the mark. it is some comfort that there are not a few such men about us to look up to as exemplars. we know several such, both men and women, among our own friends. let's be thankful for them. it does us good to think of them! from what we have said, the reader will not be surprised to hear that, after the first words of morning salutation, lewis stoutley walked smartly along the high road leading up the valley of chamouni in perfect silence, with antoine trudging like a mute by his side. lewis was too busy with his thoughts to speak at first. nita's illness, and the mystery connected somehow with the count, afforded food not only for meditation, but anxiety, and it was not until the town lay far behind them that he looked at his guide, and said:-- "the route over the tete-noire is very grand, i am told?" "very grand, monsieur--magnificent!" "you are well acquainted with it, doubtless?" "yes; i have passed over it hundreds of times. does monsieur intend to make a divergence to the col de balme?" "no; i have urgent business on hand, and must push on to catch the railway. would the divergence you speak of take up much time? is the col de balme worth going out of one's way to see?" "it is well worthy of a visit," said the guide, replying to the last query first, "as you can there have a completely uninterrupted view--one of the very finest views of mont blanc, and all its surroundings. the time required for the divergence is little more than two hours; with monsieur's walking powers perhaps not so much; besides, there is plenty of time, as we shall reach martigny much too soon for the train." "in that case we shall make the detour," said lewis. "are the roads difficult?" "no; quite easy. it is well that monsieur dispensed with a mule, as we shall be more independent; and a mule is not so quick in its progress as an active man." while they chatted thus, walking at a quick pace up the valley, antoine, observing that his young charge was now in a conversational frame of mind, commented on the magnificent scenery, and drew attention to points of interest as they came into view. their route at first lay in the low ground by the banks of the river arve, which rushed along, wild and muddy, as if rejoicing in its escape from the superincumbent glaciers that gave it birth. the great peaks of the mont blanc range hemmed them in on the right, the slopes of the brevent on the left. passing the village of argentiere with rapid strides, and pausing but a few moments to look at the vast glacier of the same name which pours into the valley the ice-floods gendered among the heights around the aiguille verte and the aiguille du chardonnet, which rise respectively to a height of above , and , feet they reached the point where the tete-noire route diverged to the left at that time, in the form of a mere bridle-path, and pushed forward towards the col, or pass. on the way, antoine pointed out heaps of slabs of black slate. these, he said, were collected by the peasants, who, in spring, covered their snow-clad fields with them; the sun, heating the slabs, caused the snow beneath to melt rapidly; and thus, by a very simple touch of art, they managed to wrest from nature several weeks that would otherwise have been lost! as they rose into the higher grounds, heaps and rude pillars of stone were observed. these were the landmarks which guided travellers through that region when it was clad in its wintry robe of deep snow, and all paths obliterated. at last they stood on the col de balme. there was a solitary inn there, but antoine turned aside from it and led his companion a mile or so to one side, to a white stone, which marked the boundary between switzerland and france. it is vain to attempt in words a description of scenes of grandeur. ink, at the best, is impotent in such matters; even paint fails to give an adequate idea. we can do no more than run over a list of names. from this commanding point of view mont blanc is visible in all his majesty--vast, boundless, solemn, incomprehensible--with his aiguilles de tour, d'argentiere, verte, du dru, de charmoz, du midi, etcetera, around him; his white head in the clouds, his glacial drapery rolling into the vale of chamouni, his rocks and his pine-clad slopes toned down by distance into fine shadows. on the other side of the vale rise the steeps of the aiguilles rouges and the brevent. to the north towers the croix de fer, and to the north-east is seen the entire chain of the bernese alps, rising like a mighty white leviathan, with a bristling back of pinnacles. splendid though the view was, however, lewis did not for a moment forget his mission. allowing himself only a few minutes to drink it in, he hastened back to the tete-noire path, and soon found himself traversing a widely different scene. on the col he had, as it were, stood aloof, and looked abroad on a vast and glorious region; now, he was involved in its rocky, ridgy, woody details. here and there long vistas opened up to view, but, for the most part, his vision was circumscribed by towering cliffs and deep ravines. sometimes he was down in the bottom of mountain valleys, at other times walking on ledges so high on the precipice-faces, that cottages in the vales below seemed little bigger than sheep. now the country was wooded and soft; anon it was barren and rocky, but never tame or uninteresting. at one place, where the narrow gorge was strewn with huge boulders, antoine pointed out a spot where two swiss youths had been overwhelmed by an avalanche. it had come down from the red gorges of the aiguilles rouges, at a spot where the vale, or pass, was comparatively wide. perhaps its width had induced the hapless lads to believe themselves quite safe from anything descending on the other side of the valley. if so, they were mistaken; the dreadful rush of rock and wrack swept the entire plain, and buried them in the ruin. towards evening the travellers reached martigny in good time for the train, which speedily conveyed them to saxon. this town is the only one in switzerland--the only one, indeed, in europe with the exception of monaco--which possesses that great blight on civilisation, a public gambling-table. that the blight is an unusually terrible one may be assumed from the fact that every civilised european nation has found it absolutely necessary to put such places down with a strong hand. at the time lewis stoutley visited the town, however, it was not so singular in its infamy as it now is. he was ignorant of everything about the place save its name. going straight to the first hotel that presented itself, he inquired for the count horetzki. the count he was told, did not reside there; perhaps he was at the casino. to the casino lewis went at once. it was an elegant swiss building, the promenade of which was crowded with visitors. the strains of music fell sweetly on the youth's ear as he approached. leaving antoine outside, he entered, and repeated his inquiries for the count. they did not know the count, was the reply, but if monsieur would enter the rooms perhaps he might find him. lewis, remembering the expressed desire of nita, hesitated, but as no one seemed inclined to attend to his inquiries, beyond a civil reply that nothing was known about the count he entered, not a little surprised at the difficulty thrown in his way. the appearance of the salon into which he was ushered at once explained the difficulty, and at the same time sent a sudden gleam of light into his mind. crowds of ladies and gentlemen--some eager, some anxious, others flippant or dogged, and a good many quite calm and cool-- surrounded the brilliantly-lighted gaming tables. every one seemed to mind only his own business, and each man's business may be said to have been the fleecing of his neighbour to the utmost of his power--not by means of skill or wisdom, but by means of mere chance, and through the medium of professional gamblers and rouge-et-noir. with a strange fluttering at his heart, for he remembered his own weakness, lewis hurried forward and glanced quickly at the players. almost the first face he saw was that of the count. but what a changed countenance! instead of the usual placid smile, and good-humoured though sad expression about the eyes, there was a terrible look of intense fixed anxiety, with deep-knotted lines on his brow, and a horribly drawn look about the mouth. "make your play, gentlemen," said the presiding genius of the tables, as he spun round the board on the action of which so much depended. the count had already laid his stake on the table, and clutched his rake with such violence as almost to snap the handle. other players had also placed their stakes, some with cool calculating precision, a few with nervous uncertainty, many with apparent indifference. with the exception of the count and a lady near him, however, there was little of what might indicate very strong feeling on any countenance. one young and pretty girl, after placing her little pile of silver, stood awaiting the result with calm indifference-- possibly assumed. whatever might be the thoughts or feelings of the players, there was nothing but business-like gravity stamped on the countenances of the four men who presided over the revolving board, each with neatly-arranged rows of silver five-franc pieces in front of him, and a wooden rake lying ready to hand. each player also had a rake, with which he or she pushed the coins staked upon a certain space of the table, or on one of the dividing lines, which gave at least a varied, if not a better, chance. the process of play was short and sharp. for a few seconds the board spun, the players continuing to place, or increase, or modify the arrangement of the stakes up to nearly the last moment. as the board revolved more slowly a pea fell into a hole--red or black--and upon this the fate of each hung. a notable event, truly, on which untold millions of money have changed hands, innumerable lives have been sacrificed, and unspeakable misery and crime produced in days gone by! the decision of the pea--if we may so express it--was quietly stated, and to an ignorant spectator it seemed as if the guardians of the table raked all the stakes into their own maws. but here and there, like white rocks in a dark sea, several little piles were left untouched. to the owners of these a number of silver pieces were tossed--tossed so deftly that we might almost say it rained silver on those regions of the table. no wizard of legerdemain ever equalled the sleight of hand with which these men pitched, reckoned, manipulated, and raked in silver pieces! the count's pile remained untouched, and a bright flush suffused his hitherto pale cheeks while the silver rain was falling on his square, but to the surprise of lewis, he did not rake it towards him as did the others. he left the increased amount on exactly the same spot, merely drawing it gently together with his rake. as he did so the knotted haggard look returned to his once again bloodless brow and face. not less precise and silent were his companions. the board again spun round; the inexorable pea fell; the raking and raining were repeated, and again the count's stake lay glittering before him. his eyes glittered even more brightly than the silver. lewis concluded that he must have been brought down to desperate poverty, and meant to recover himself by desperate means, for he left the whole stake again on the same spot. this time the pea fell into black. the colour was symbolic of the count's feelings, for next moment the silver heap was raked from before him, along with other heaps, as if nothing unusual had happened; and, in truth, nothing had. wholesale ruin and robbery was the daily occupation there! for a few seconds the count gazed at the blank space before him with an expression of stony unbelief; then springing suddenly to his feet, he spurned his chair from him and rushed from the room. so quick was the movement, that he had reached the door and passed out before lewis could stop him. springing after him with a feeling of great alarm, the youth dashed across the entrance-hall, but turned in the wrong direction. being put right by a porter, he leaped through the doorway and looked for antoine, who, he knew, must have seen the count pass, but antoine was not there. as he quickly questioned one who stood near, he thought he saw a man running among the adjacent shrubbery. he could not be sure, the night being dark, but he promptly ran after him. on dashing round a turn in the gravel-walk, he found two men engaged in what appeared to be a deadly struggle. suddenly the place was illumined by a red flash, a loud report followed, and one of the two fell. "ah! monsieur," exclaimed antoine, as lewis came forward, "aid me here; he is not hurt, i think." "hurt! do you mean that he tried to shoot himself?" "he had not time to try, but i'm quite sure that he meant to," said antoine; "so i ran after him and caught his hand. the pistol exploded in the struggle." as the guide spoke, the count rose slowly. the star-light was faint, but it sufficed to show that the stony look of despair was gone, and that the gentle expression, natural to him, had returned. he was deadly pale, and bowed his head as one overwhelmed with shame. "oh pardon, monsieur!" exclaimed poor antoine, as he thought of the roughness with which he had been compelled to treat him. "i did not mean to throw you." "you did not throw me, friend. i tripped and fell," replied the count, in a low, husky voice. "mr stoutley," he added, turning to lewis, "by what mischance you came here i know not but i trust that you were not-- were not--present. i mean--do you know the cause of my conduct--this--" he stopped abruptly. "my dear sir," said lewis, in a low, kind voice, at the same time grasping the count's hand, and leading him aside, "i was in the rooms; i saw you there; but believe me when i assure you, that no feeling but that of sympathy can touch the heart of one who has been involved in the meshes of the same net." the count's manner changed instantly. he returned the grasp of the young man, and looked eagerly in his face, as he repeated-- "_has_ been involved! how, then, did you escape?" "i'm not sure that i _have_ escaped," answered lewis, sadly. "not sure! oh, young man, _make_ sure. give no rest to your soul till you are quite sure. it is a dreadful net--terrible! when once wrapped tightly round one there is no escape--no escape. in this it resembles its sister passion--the love of strong drink." the count spoke with such deep pathos, and in tones so utterly hopeless, that lewis's ready sympathies were touched, and he would have given anything to be able to comfort his friend, but never before having been called upon to act as a comforter, he felt sorely perplexed. "call it not a passion," he said. "the love of gaming, as of drink, is a disease; and a disease may be cured--has been cured, even when desperate." the count shook his head. "you speak in ignorance, mr stoutley. you know nothing of the struggles i have made. it is impossible." "with god _all_ things are possible," replied lewis, quoting, almost to his own surprise, a text of scripture. "but forgive my delay," he added; "i came here on purpose to look for you. your daughter nita is ill--not seriously ill, i believe," he said, on observing the count's startled look, "but ill enough to warrant your being sent for." "i know--i know," cried the count, with a troubled look, as he passed his hand across his brow. "i might have expected it. she cannot sustain the misery i have brought on her. oh! why was i prevented from freeing her from such a father. is she very ill? did she send for me? did she tell you what i am?" the excited manner and wild aspect of the gambler, more than the words, told of a mind almost, if not altogether, unhinged. observing this with some anxiety, lewis tried to soothe him. while leading him to an hotel, he explained the nature of nita's attack as well as he could, and said that she had not only refrained from saying anything about her father, but that she seemed excessively unwilling to reveal the name of the place to which he had gone, or to send for him. "no one knows anything unfavourable about count horetzki," said lewis, in a gentle tone, "save his fellow-sinner, who now assures him of his sincere regard. as for antoine grennon, he is a wise, and can be a silent, man. no brother could be more tender of the feelings of others than he. come, you will consent to be my guest to-night. you are unwell; i shall be your amateur physician. my treatment and a night of rest will put you all right, and to-morrow, by break of day, we will hie back to chamouni over the tete-noire." chapter nineteen. mountaineering in general. a week passed away, during which nita was confined to bed, and the count waited on her with the most tender solicitude. as their meals were sent to their rooms, it was not necessary for the latter to appear in the _salle-a-manger_ or the _salon_. he kept himself carefully out of sight, and intelligence of the invalid's progress was carried to their friends by susan quick, who was allowed to remain as sick-nurse, and who rejoiced in filling that office to one so amiable and uncomplaining as nita. of course, lewis was almost irresistibly tempted to talk with susan about her charge, but he felt the impropriety of such a proceeding, and refrained. not so gillie white. that sapient blue spider, sitting in his wonted chair, resplendent with brass buttons and brazen impudence, availed himself of every opportunity to perform an operation which he styled "pumping;" but susan, although ready enough to converse freely on things in general, was judicious in regard to things particular. whatever might have passed in the sick-room, the pumping only brought up such facts as that the count was a splendid nurse as well as a loving father, and that he and his daughter were tenderly attached to each other. "well, susan," observed gillie, with an approving nod, "i'm glad to hear wot you say, for it's my b'lief that tender attachments is the right sort o' thing. i've got one or two myself." "indeed!" said susan, "who for, i wonder?" "w'y, for one," replied the spider, "i've had a wery tender attachment to my mother ever since that blessed time w'en i was attached to her buzzum in the rampagin' hunger of infancy. then i've got another attachment--not quite so old, but wery strong, oh uncommon powerful--for a young lady named susan quick. d'you happen to know her?" "oh, gillie, you're a sad boy," said susan. "well, i make a pint never to contradict a 'ooman, believin' it to be dangerous," returned gillie, "but i can't say that i _feel_ sad. i'm raither jolly than otherwise." a summons from the sick-room cut short the conversation. during the week in question it had rained a good deal, compelling the visitors at chamouni to pass the time in-doors with books, billiards, draughts, and chess. towards the end of the week lewis met the count and discovered that he was absolutely destitute of funds--did not, in fact possess enough to defray the hotel expenses. "mother," said lewis, during a private audience in her bed-chamber the same evening, "i want twenty pounds from you." "certainly, my boy; but why do you come to me? you know that dr lawrence has charge of and manages my money. how i wish there were no such thing as money, and no need for it!" mrs stoutley finished her remark with her usual languid smile and pathetic sigh, but if her physician, dr tough, had been there, he would probably have noted that mountain-air had robbed the smile of half its languor, and the sigh of nearly all its pathos. there was something like seriousness, too, in the good lady's eye. she had been impressed more than she chose to admit by the sudden death of le croix, whom she had frequently seen, and whose stalwart frame and grave countenance she had greatly admired. besides this, one or two accidents had occurred since her arrival in the swiss valley; for there never passes a season without the occurrence of accidents more or less serious in the alps. on one occasion the news had been brought that a young lady, recently married, whose good looks had been the subject of remark more than once, was killed by falling rocks before her husband's eyes. on another occasion the spirits of the tourists were clouded by the report that a guide had fallen into a crevasse, and, though not killed, was much injured. mrs stoutley chanced to meet the rescue-party returning slowly to the village, with the poor shattered frame of the fine young fellow on a stretcher. it is one thing to read of such events in the newspapers. it is another and a very different thing to be near or to witness them--to be in the actual presence of physical and mental agony. antoine grennon, too, had made a favourable impression on mrs stoutley; and when, in passing one day his extremely humble cottage, she was invited by antoine's exceedingly pretty wife to enter and partake of bread and milk largely impregnated with cream, which was handed to her by antoine's excessively sweet blue-eyed daughter, the lady who had hitherto spent her life among the bright ice-pinnacles of society, was forced to admit to emma gray that dr tough was right when he said there were some beautiful and precious stones to be found among the moraines of social life. "i know that lawrence keeps the purse," said lewis, "but i want your special permission to take this money, because i intend to give it away." "twenty pounds is a pretty large gift, lewis," said his mother, raising her eyebrows. "who is it that has touched the springs of your liberality? not the family of poor le croix?" "no; le croix happily leaves no family. he was an unmarried man. i must not tell you, just yet, mother. trust me, it shall be well bestowed; besides, i ask it as a loan. it shall be refunded." "don't talk of refunding money to your mother, foolish boy. go; you may have it." lewis kissed his mother's cheek and thanked her. he quickly found the count, but experienced considerable difficulty in persuading him to accept the money. however, by delicacy of management and by assuming, as a matter of course, that it was a loan, to be repaid when convenient, he prevailed. the count made an entry of the loan in his notebook, with lewis's london address, and they parted with a kindly shake of the hand, little imagining that they had seen each other on earth for the last time. on the monday following, a superb day opened on the vale of chamouni, such a day as, through the medium of sight and scent, is calculated to gladden the heart of man and beast. that the beasts enjoyed it was manifest from the pleasant sounds that they sent, gushing, like a hymn of thanksgiving--and who shall say it was not!--into the bright blue sky. birds carolled on the shrubs and in the air; cats ventured abroad with hair erect and backs curved, to exchange greetings with each other in wary defiance of dogs; kittens sprawled in the sunshine, and made frantic efforts to achieve the impossible feat of catching their own shadows, varying the pastime with more successful, though arduous, attempts at their own tails; dogs bounded and danced, chiefly on their hind legs, round their loved companion man (including woman); juvenile dogs chased, tumbled over, barked at, and gnawed each other with amiable fury, wagging their various tails with a vigour that suggested a desire to shake them off; tourist men and boys moved about with a decision that indicated the having of particular business on hand; tourist women and girls were busily engaged with baskets and botanical boxes, or flitted hither and thither in climbing costume with obtrusive alpenstocks, as though a general attack on mont blanc and all his satellite aiguilles were meditated. among these were our friends the professor, captain wopper, emma gray, slingsby, lewis, and lawrence, under the guidance of antoine grennon. strange to say they were all a little dull, notwithstanding the beauty of the weather, and the pleasant anticipation of a day on the hills--not a hard, toilsome day, with some awful alpine summit as its aim, but what lewis termed a jolly day, a picnicky day, to be extended into night, and to include any place, or to be cut short or extended according to whim. the professor was dull, because, having to leave, this was to be his last excursion; captain wopper was dull, because his cherished matrimonial hopes were being gradually dissipated. he could not perceive that lawrence was falling in love with emma, or emma with lawrence. the utmost exertion of sly diplomacy of which he was capable, short of straightforward advice, had failed to accomplish anything towards the desirable end. emma was dull, because her friend nita, although recovering, was still far from well. slingsby was dull for the same reason, and also because he felt his passion to be hopeless. lewis was dull because he knew nita's circumstances to be so very sad; and lawrence was dull because--well, we are not quite sure why _he_ was dull. he was rather a self-contained fellow, and couldn't be easily understood. of the whole party, antoine alone was _not_ dull. nothing could put him in that condition, but, seeing that the others were so, he was grave, quiet attentive. some of the excursionists had left at a much earlier hour. four strapping youths, with guides, had set out for the summit of mont blanc; a mingled party of ladies, gentlemen, guides, and mules, were on the point of starting to visit the mer de glace; a delicate student, unable for long excursions, was preparing to visit with his sister, the glacier des bossons. others were going, or had gone, to the source of the arveiron, and to the brevent, while the british peer, having previously been conducted by a new and needlessly difficult path to the top of monte rosa, was led off by his persecutor to attempt, by an impossible route, to scale the matterhorn--to reach the main-truck, as captain wopper put it, by going down the stern-post along the keel, over the bobstay, up the flyin' jib, across the foretopmast-stay, and up the maintop-gallant halyards. this at least was lewis stoutley's report of the captain's remark. we cannot answer for its correctness. but nothing can withstand the sweet influences of fresh mountain-air and sunshine. in a short time "dull care" was put to flight and when our party--emma being on a mule--reached the neighbouring heights, past and future were largely forgotten in the enjoyment of the present. besides being sunny and bright, the day was rather cool, so that, after dismissing the mule, and taking to the glaciers and ice-slope, the air was found to be eminently suitable for walking. "it's a bad look-out," murmured captain wopper, when he observed that dr lawrence turned deliberately to converse with the professor, leaving lewis to assist emma to alight, even although he, the captain, had, by means of laboured contrivance and vast sagacity, brought the doctor and the mule into close juxtaposition at the right time. however, the captain's temperament was sanguine. he soon forgot his troubles in observing the curious position assumed by slingsby on the first steep slope of rocky ground they had to descend, for descents as well as ascents were frequent at first. the artist walked on all-fours, but with his back to the hill instead of his face, his feet thus being in advance. "what sort of an outside-in fashion is that, slingsby?" asked the captain, when they had reached the bottom. "it's a way i have of relieving my knees," said slingsby; "try it." "thank 'ee; no," returned the captain. "it don't suit my pecooliar build; it would throw too much of my weight amidships." "you've no idea," said slingsby, "what a comfort it is to a man whose knees suffer in descending. i'd rather go up twenty mountains than descend one. this plan answers only on steep places, and is but a temporary relief. still that is something at the end of a long day." the artist exemplified his plan at the next slope. the captain tried it, but, as he expressed it, broke in two at the waist and rolled down the slope, to the unspeakable delight of his friends. "i fear you will find this rather severe?" said the professor to emma, during a pause in a steep ascent. "oh no; i am remarkably strong," replied emma, smiling. "i was in switzerland two years ago, and am quite accustomed to mountaineering." "yes," remarked lawrence, "and miss gray on that occasion, i am told, ascended to the top of the dent du midi, which you know is between ten and eleven thousand feet high; and she also, during the same season, walked from champery to sixt which is a good day's journey, so we need have no anxiety on her account." although the doctor smiled as he spoke, he also glanced at emma with a look of admiration. captain wopper noted the glance and was comforted. at luncheon, however, the doctor seated himself so that the professor's bulky person came between him and emma. the captain noted that also, and was depressed. what between elation and depression, mingled with fatigue and victuals, the captain ultimately became recklessly jovial. "what are yonder curious things?" asked emma, pointing to so me gigantic objects which looked at a distance like rude pillars carved by man. "these," said the professor, "are nature's handiwork. you will observe that on each pillar rests a rugged capital. the capital is the cause of the pillar. it is a hard rock which originally rested on a softer bed of friable stone. the weather has worn away the soft bed, except where it has been protected by the hard stone, and thus a natural pillar has arisen--just like the ice-pillars, which are protected from the sun in the same way; only the latter are more evanescent." further on, the professor drew the attention of his friends to the beautiful blue colour of the holes which their alpenstocks made in the snow. "once," said he, "while walking on the heights of monte rosa, i observed this effect with great interest, and, while engaged in the investigation of the cause, got a surprise which was not altogether agreeable. some of the paths there are on very narrow ridges, and the snow on these ridges often overhangs them. i chanced to be walking in advance of my guide at the time to which i refer, and amused myself as i went along by driving my alpenstock deep into the snow, when suddenly, to my amazement i sent the end of the staff right through the snow, and, on withdrawing it, looked down into space! i had actually walked over the ridge altogether, and was standing above an abyss some thousands of feet deep!" "horrible!" exclaimed emma. "you jumped off pretty quickly, i dare say." "nay, i walked off with extreme caution; but i confess to having felt a sort of cold shudder with which my frame had not been acquainted previously." while they were thus conversing, a cloud passed overhead and sent down a slight shower of snow. to most of the party this was a matter of indifference, but the man of science soon changed their feelings by drawing attention to the form of the flakes. he carried a magnifying glass with him, which enabled him to show their wonders more distinctly. it was like a shower of frozen flowers of the most delicate and exquisite kind. each flake was a flower with six leaves. some of the leaves threw out lateral spines or points, like ferns, some were rounded, others arrowy, reticulated, and serrated; but, although varied in many respects, there was no variation in the number of leaves. "what amazin' beauty in a snowflake," exclaimed the captain, "many a one i've seen without knowin' how splendid it was." "the works of god are indeed wonderful," said the professor, "but they must be `sought out'--examined with care--to be fully understood and appreciated." "yet there are certain philosophers," observed lewis, "who hold that the evidence of design here and elsewhere does not at all prove the existence of god. they say that the crystals of these snow-flakes are drawn together and arrange themselves by means of natural forces." "they say truly," replied the professor, "but they seem to me to stop short in their reasoning. they appear to ignore the fact that this elemental original force of which they speak must have had a creator. however far they may go back into mysterious and incomprehensible elements, which they choose to call `blind forces,' they do not escape the fact that matter cannot have created itself; that behind their utmost conceptions there must still be one non-created, eternal, living being who created all, who upholds all, and whom we call god." descending again from the heights in order to cross a valley and gain the opposite mountain, our ramblers quitted the glacier, and, about noon, found themselves close to a lovely pine-clad knoll, the shaded slopes of which commanded an unusually fine view of rocky cliff and fringing wood, with a background of glacier and snow-flecked pinnacles. halting, accidentally in a row, before this spot they looked at it with interest. suddenly the professor stepped in front of the others, and, pointing to the knoll, said, with twinkling eyes-- "what does it suggest? come, dux (to slingsby, who happened to stand at the head of the line), tell me, sir, what does it suggest?" "_i_ know, sir!" exclaimed the captain, who stood at the dunce's extremity of the line, holding out his fist with true schoolboy eagerness. "it suggests," said the artist, rolling his eyes, "`a thing of beauty;' and--" "next!" interrupted the professor, pointing to lawrence. "_i_ know, sir," shouted the captain. "hold your tongue, sir!" "ay, ay, sir." "it is suggestive," said lawrence, "of an oasis in the desert." "very poor, sir," said the professor, severely. "next." "it suggests a cool shade on a hot day," said emma. "better, but not right. next." "please, sir, i'd rather not answer," said lewis, putting his forefinger in his mouth. "you must, sir." "_i_ know, sir," interrupted captain wopper, shaking his fist eagerly. "silence, you booby!--well, boy, what does it suggest to _you_?" "please, sir," answered lewis, "it suggests the mole on your professorial cheek." "sir," cried the professor, sternly, "remind me to give you a severe caning to-night." "yes, sir." "well, booby, what have _you_ got to say to it?" "wittles!" shouted the captain. "right," cried the professor, "only it would have been better expressed had you said--luncheon. go up, sir; put yourself at the head of the class, and lead it to a scene of glorious festivity." thus instructed, the captain put himself at the head of the line. "now, then, captain," said lewis, "let's have a true-blue nautical word of command--hoist yer main tops'l sky-scrapers abaft the cleat o' the spanker boom, heave the main deck overboard and let go the painter--or something o' that sort." "hold on to the painter, you mean," said slingsby. "you're both wrong," cried the captain, "my orders are those of the immortal nelson--`close action, my lads--england expects every man to'-- hooray!" with a wild cheer, and waving his hat, the seaman rushed up the side of the knoll, followed by his obedient and willing crew. in order to render the feast more complete, several members of the party had brought small private supplies to supplement the cold mutton, ham, bread, and light claret which antoine and two porters had carried in their knapsacks. captain wopper had brought a supply of variously coloured abominations known in england by the name of comfits, in scotland as sweeties. these, mixed with snow and water, he styled "iced-lemonade." emma tried the mixture and declared it excellent, which caused someone to remark that the expression of her face contradicted her tongue. lewis produced a small flask full of a rich dark port-winey liquid, which he said he had brought because it had formerly been one of the most delightful beverages of his childish years. it was tasted with interest and rejected with horror, being liquorice water! emma produced a bottle of milk, in the consumption of which she was ably assisted by the professor, who declared that his natural spirits required no artificial stimulants. the professor himself had not been forgetful of the general good. he had brought with him a complex copper implement, which his friends had supposed was a new species of theodolite, but which turned out to be a scientific coffee-pot, in the development of which and its purposes, as the man of science carefully explained, there was called into play some of the principles involved in the sciences of hydraulics and pneumatics, to which list lewis added, in an under-tone, those of aquatics, ecstatics, and rheumatics. the machine was perfect, but the professor's natural turn for practical mechanics not being equal to his knowledge of other branches of science, he failed properly to adjust a screw. this resulted in an explosion of the pot which blew its lid, as lewis expressed it, into the north of italy, and its contents into the fire. a second effort, using the remains of the scientific pot as an ordinary kettle, was more successful. "you see, my friends," said the professor, apologetically, "it is one of the prerogatives of science that her progress cannot be hindered. her resources and appliances are inexhaustible. when one style of experiment fails we turn at once to another and obtain our result, as i now prove to you by handing this cup of coffee to miss gray. you had better not sweeten it, mademoiselle. it is quite unnecessary to make the very trite observation that in your case no sugar is required. yes, the progress of science is slow, but it is sure. everything must fall before it in time." "ah, just so--`one down, another come on,'--that's your motto, ain't it?" said captain wopper, who invariably, during the meal, delivered his remarks from a cavern filled with a compound of mutton, bread, and ham. "but i say, professor, are you spliced?" "spliced?" echoed the man of science. "ay; married, i mean." "yes, i am wed," he replied, with enthusiasm. "i have a beautiful wife in russia, and she is good as beautiful." "in roosia--eh! well, it's a longish way off, but i'd advise you, as a friend, not to let her know that you pay such wallopin' compliments to young english ladies. it might disagree with her, d'ye see?" at this point the conversation and festivities were interrupted by slingsby, who, having gone off to sketch, had seated himself on a mound within sight of his friends, in a position so doubled up and ridiculous as to call forth the remark from lawrence, that few traits of character were more admirable and interesting than those which illustrated the utter disregard of personal appearance in true and enthusiastic devotees of art. to which captain wopper added that "he was a rum lot an' no mistake." the devotee was seen by the revellers to start once or twice and clap his hands to various pockets, as though he had forgotten his india-rubber or pen-knife. then he was observed to drop his sketching-book and hastily slap all his pockets, as if he had forgotten fifty pieces of india-rubber and innumerable pen-knives. finally, he sprang up and slapped himself all over wildly, yelling at the same time as if he had been a maniac. he had inadvertently selected an ant-hill as his seat, that was all; but that was sufficient to check his devotion to art, and necessitate his retirement to a rocky defile, where he devoted himself to the study of "the nude" in his own person, and whence he returned looking imbecile and hot. such _contretemps_, however, do not materially affect the health or spirits of the young and strong. ere long slingsby was following his companions with his wonted enthusiasm and devotee-like admiration of nature in all her varying aspects. his enthusiasm was, however, diverted from the study of vegetable and mineral, if we may so put it, to that of animal nature, for one of the porters, who had a tendency to go poking his staff into holes and crannies of the rocks, suddenly touched a marmot. he dropped his pack and began at once to dig up earth and stones as fast as possible, assisted by his comrades; but the little creature was too sagacious for them. they came to its bed at last, and found that, while they had been busy at one end of the hole, the marmot had quietly walked out at the other, and made off. having pushed over the valley, and once more ascended to the regions of perpetual ice, the ramblers determined to "attack"--as the phrase goes among alpine climbers--a neighbouring summit. it was not a very high one, and emma declared that she was not only quite able, but very anxious, to attempt it. the attempt was, therefore, made, and, after a couple of hours of pretty laborious work, accomplished. they found themselves on a pinnacle which overlooked a large portion of the ice-world around mont blanc. while standing there, one or two avalanches were observed, and the professor pointed out that avalanches were not all of one character. some, he said, were composed of rock, mud, and water; others entirely of ice; many of them were composed of these elements mixed, and others were entirely of snow. "true, monsieur," observed the guide, "and the last kind is sometimes very fatal. there was one from which my wife and child had a narrow escape. they were visiting at the time a near relation who dwelt in a village in a valley not far distant from this spot. behind the village there is a steep slope covered with pines; behind that the mountain rises still more steeply. the little forest stands between that village and destruction. but for it, avalanches would soon sweep the village away; but wood is not always a sure protector. sometimes, when frost renders the snow crisp and dry, the trees fail to check its descent. it was so on the last night of my wife's visit. a brother was about to set off with her from the door of our relative's house, when the snow began to descend through the trees like water. it was like dry flour. there was not much noise, merely a hissing sound, but it came down in a deluge, filled all the houses, and suffocated nearly all the people in them. my brother-in-law saw it in time. he put his horse to full speed, and brought my dear wife and child away in safety, but his own father, mother, and sister were lost. we tried to reach their house the next day, but could advance through the soft snow only by taking two planks with us, and placing one before the other as we went along." soon after the ramblers had begun their return journey, they came to a slope which they thought might be descended by sliding or "glissading." it was the first time that emma had seen such work, and she felt much inclined to try it, but was dissuaded by antoine, who led her round by an easier way. at the foot of the slope they came to a couloir, or sloping gorge, so steep that snow could not lie on it. its surface was, therefore, hard ice. although passable, antoine deemed it prudent not to cross, the more so that he observed some ominous obelisks of ice impending at the top of the slope. "why not cross and let emma see how we manage by cutting steps in the ice?" said lewis. he received a conclusive though unexpected answer from one of the obelisks above-mentioned, which fell at the moment, broke into fragments, and swept the couloir from top to bottom with incredible violence. it is wonderful what a deal of experience is required to make foolish people wise! winthin the next ten minutes this warning was forgotten, and lewis led his cousin into a danger which almost cost the lives of three of the party. chapter twenty. records a serious event. our ramblers had now reached a place where a great expanse of rock surface was exposed, and the temptation to dilate on the action of glaciers proved too strong for the professor. he therefore led those who were willing to follow to a suitable spot and pointed out the striations, flutings, and polishings of the granite, which showed that in former ages the glacier had passed there, although at that time it was far below in the valley. the polishings, he said, were caused by the ice slowly grinding over the surface of the rock, and the flutings and groovings were caused, not by the ice itself, but by stones which were embedded in its under surface, and which cut the solid granite as if with chisels. meanwhile, lewis and emma, having taken the opportunity to search for plants, had wandered on a little in advance, and had come to another steep slope, which was, however, covered with snow at its upper part. below, where it became steeper, there was no snow, only pure ice, which extended downwards to an immense distance, broken only here and there by a few rocks that cropped through its surface. it terminated in a rocky gorge, which was strewn thickly with _debris_ from above. "let us cross this," said emma, with a look of glee, for she possessed an adventurous spirit. "we'd better not," answered lewis. "the slope is very steep." "true, o cautious cousin," retorted emma, with a laugh, "but it is covered here with snow that is soft and probably knee-deep. go on it, sir, and try." thus commanded, lewis obeyed, and found that the snow was indeed knee-deep, and that there was no possibility of their either slipping or falling, unless one were unusually careless, and even in that case the soft snow would have checked anything like an involuntary glissade. "let me go first," said lewis. "nay, i will go first," returned emma, "you will follow and pick me up if i should fall." so saying, she stepped lightly into the snow and advanced, while her companion stood looking at her with a half-amused, half-anxious smile. she had not made six steps, and lewis was on the point of following, when he observed that there was a crack across the snow just above where he stood, and the whole mass began to slide. for a moment he was transfixed with horror. the next he had sprung to his cousin's side and seized her arm, shouting-- "emma! emma! come back. quick! it moves." but poor emma could not obey. she would as soon have expected the mountain itself to give way as the huge mass of snow on which she stood. at first its motion was slow, and lewis struggled wildly to extricate her, but in vain, for the snow avalanche gathered speed as it advanced, and in its motion not only sank them to their waists, but turned them helplessly round, thus placing lewis farthest from the firm land. he shouted now with all the power of his lungs for help, while emma screamed from terror. lawrence chanced to be nearest to them. he saw at a glance what had occurred, and dashed down the hill-side at headlong speed. a wave was driving in front of the couple, who were now embedded nearly to their armpits, while streams of snow were hissing all round them, and the mass was beginning to rush. one look sufficed to show lawrence that rescue from the side was impossible, but, with that swift power of perception which is aroused in some natures by the urgent call to act, he observed that some yards lower down--near the place where the ice-slope began-- there was a rock near to the side in the track of the avalanche, which it divided. leaping down to this, he sprang into the sliding flood a little above it, and, with a powerful effort, caught the rock and drew himself upon it. next moment emma was borne past out of reach of his hand. lawrence rushed deep into the snow and held out his alpenstock. emma caught it. he felt himself turned irresistibly round, and a sick feeling of despair chilled his life-blood. at the same moment a powerful hand grasped his collar. "hold on, monsieur," cried antoine, in a deep, yet encouraging voice, "i've got you safe." as he spoke, emma shrieked, "i cannot hold on!" no wonder! she had not only to resist the rushing snow, but to sustain the drag of lewis, who, as we have said, had been carried beyond his cousin, and whose only chance now lay in his retaining hold of her arm. ere the words had quite left her lips, lewis was seen deliberately to let go his hold and throw up his arm--it seemed as if waving it. next moment emma was dragged on the rock, where she and her companions stood gazing in horror as their companion was swept upon the ice-slope and carried down headlong. the snow was by this time whirled onward in a sort of mist or spray, in the midst of which lewis was seen to strike a rock with his shoulder and swing violently round, while parts of his clothing were plainly rent from his body, but the painful sight did not last long. a few seconds more and he was hurled, apparently a lifeless form, among the _debris_ and rocks far below. death, in such a case, might have been expected to be instantaneous, but the very element that caused the poor youth's fall, helped to save him. during the struggle for life while clinging to emma's arm, the check, brief though it was, sufficed to allow most of the snow to pass down before him, so that he finally fell on a comparatively soft bed; but it was clear that he had been terribly injured, and, what made matters worse, he had fallen into a deep gorge surrounded by precipices, which seemed to some of the party to render it quite impossible to reach him. "what is to be done?" exclaimed lawrence, with intense anxiety. "he must be got at immediately. delay of treatment in his case, even for a short time, may prove fatal." "i know it, monsieur," said antoine, who had been quietly but quickly uncoiling his rope. "one of the porters and i will descend by the precipices. they are too steep for any but well-accustomed hands and feet. you, monsieur, understand pretty well the use of the axe and rope. cut your way down the ice-slope with jacques. he is a steady man, and may be trusted. run, rollo (to the third porter), and fetch aid from gaspard's chalet. it is the nearest. i need not say make haste." these orders were delivered in a low, rapid voice. the men proceeded at once to obey them. at the same time antoine and his comrade swung themselves down the cliffs, and were instantly lost to view. the young porter, whom he had named rollo, was already going down the mountain at a smart run, and jacques was on the ice-slope wielding his axe with ceaseless energy and effect, while lawrence held the rope to which he was attached, and descended the rude and giddy staircase behind him. it was a terrible time for those who were left above in a state of inaction and deep anxiety, but there was no help for it. they had to content themselves with watching the rescue, and praying for success. it was not long before the guide and porter reached the spot where poor lewis lay. he was not insensible, but a deadly pallor overspread his scarred face, and the position in which he lay betokened utter helplessness. he could scarcely speak, but whispered that he fancied he was not so much hurt as might have been expected, and expressed wonder at their having been so long in reaching him. the guide spoke to him with the tenderness of a woman. he knew well how severely the poor youth was injured, and handled him very delicately while making such preliminary arrangements as were in his power. a few drops of brandy and water were administered, the poor limbs were arranged in a position of greater comfort, and the torn rags of clothing wrapped round him. soon they were joined by lawrence, who merely whispered a few kind words, and proceeded at once to examine him. his chief anxiety was as to the amount of skin that had been destroyed. the examination revealed a terrible and bloody spectacle; over which we will draw a veil; yet there was reason to believe that the amount of skin torn off and abraded was not sufficient to cause death. lawrence was comforted also by finding that no bones appeared to have been broken. nothing could be done in the way of attempting a removal until the return of rollo with a litter. fortunately this was not long of being brought, for the young porter was active and willing, and gaspard had promptly accompanied him with men and materials for the rescue. but it was a sad, slow, and painful process, to bear the poor youth's frame from that savage gorge, and convey him on a litter, carried by four men, over glaciers and down rugged mountain sides, even although done by tender hearts and strong hands. everything that ingenuity could contrive was done to relieve the sufferer, and when at last, after weary hours, they reached the high-road of the valley, a carriage was found waiting. a messenger had been sent in advance to fetch it, and mrs stoutley was in it. there was something quite touching in the quiet, firm air of self-restraint with which she met the procession, and afterwards tended her poor boy; it was so unlike her old character! the sun was setting in a field of golden glory when they carried lewis into the hotel at chamouni, and laid him on his bed--a mere wreck of his former self. chapter twenty one. down in the moraine at last. as the reader may suppose, the terrible accident to lewis stoutley put an end to further merry-making among our friends at chamouni. mrs stoutley would have left for england at once if that had been possible, but lewis could not be moved for several weeks. at first indeed, fears were entertained for his life, but his constitution being good, and not having been damaged by dissipation, he rallied sooner than might have been expected, although it was evident from the beginning that complete restoration could not be looked for until many months, perhaps years, had passed away. we need scarcely say, that the rapid improvement of his health was largely due to the tender watchful care of his mother. since visiting switzerland, that excellent lady's spirit had undergone a considerable change. without going minutely into particulars, we may say that the startling events which had occurred had been made the means of opening her spiritual eyes. it had occurred to her--she scarce knew how or why--that her creator had a claim on her for more consideration than she had been in the habit, heretofore, of testifying by a few formalities on sundays; that there must be some higher end and aim in life than the mere obtaining and maintaining of health, and the pursuit of pleasure; and that as there was a saviour, whom she professed on sundays to follow, there must be something real from which she had to be saved, as well as something real that had to be done. sin, she knew, of course, was the evil from which everybody had to be saved; but, being a good-natured and easy-going woman, she really did not feel much troubled by sin. little weaknesses she had, no doubt, but not half so many as other people she knew of. as to anything seriously worthy the name of sin, she did not believe she had any at all. it had never, until now, occurred to her that the treating of her best friend, during a lifetime, with cool and systematic indifference, or with mere protestations, on sundays, of adoration, was probably as great a sin as she could commit. her thoughts on these points she did not at first mention to any one, but she received great help and enlightenment, as well as comfort, from the quiet sensible talk of dr lawrence, as he sat day after day, and hour after hour, at the bedside of his friend, endeavouring to cheer his spirits as well as to relieve his physical pain--for lawrence was well fitted to do both. he was not by any means what is styled a sermoniser. he made no apparent effort to turn conversation into religious channels. indeed we believe that when men talk with the unrestrained freedom of true friendship, conversation needs no directing. it will naturally flow along all channels, and into all the zigzags and crevices of human thought--religion included. lewis was in great pain and serious danger. lawrence was a man full of the holy spirit and love to jesus. out of the fullness of his heart his mouth spoke when his friend appeared to desire such converse; but he never bored him with _any_ subject--for it is possible to be a profane, as well as a religious, bore! as soon as lewis could turn his mind to anything, after his being brought back to the hotel, he asked earnestly after nita horetzki. "she has left," said mrs stoutley. "left! d'you mean gone from chamouni, mother?" exclaimed lewis, with a start and a look of anxiety which he did not care to conceal. "yes, they went yesterday. nita had recovered sufficiently to travel, and the medical man who has been attending her urged her removal without delay. she and her father seemed both very sorry to leave us, and left kind messages for you. the count wanted much to see you, but we would not allow it." "kind messages for me," repeated lewis, in a tone of bitterness, "what sort of messages?" "well, really, i cannot exactly remember," returned mrs stoutley, with a slight smile, "the kind of messages that amiable people might be expected to leave in the circumstances, you know--regret that they should have to leave us in such a sad condition, and sincere hope that you might soon recover, etcetera. yes, by the way, nita also, just at parting, expressed a hope--an earnest hope--that we might meet again. poor dear thing, she is an extremely affectionate girl, and quite broke down when saying good-bye." "d'you know where they have gone to, mother?" "no. they mean to move about from place to place, i believe." "nita said nothing about writing to you, did she?" "did they leave any address--a _poste restante_--anywhere, or any clew whatever as to their whereabouts?" "none whatever." so then, during the weary days of suffering that he knew full well lay before him, poor lewis had no consolatory thought in regard to nita save in her expressed "earnest hope" that they might meet again. it was not much, but it was better than nothing. being an ingenious as well as daring architect, lewis built amazing structures on that slight foundation--structures which charmed his mental eyes to look upon, and which, we verily believe, tended to facilitate his recovery--so potent is the power of true love! "captain wopper," said mrs stoutley one morning, towards the end of their stay in switzerland, lewis having been pronounced sufficiently restored to travel homeward by easy stages, "i have sent for you to ask you to do me a favour--to give me your advice--your--" here, to the captain's amazement, not to say consternation, mrs stoutley's voice trembled, and she burst into tears. if she had suddenly caught him by the nose, pulled his rugged face down and kissed it, he could not have been more taken aback. "my dear madam," he stammered, sitting down inadvertently on mrs stoutley's bonnet--for it was to the good lady's private dressing-room that he had been summoned by gillie white--"hold on! don't now, please! what ever have i done to--" "you've done nothing, my dear captain," said mrs stoutley, endeavouring to check her tears. "there, i'm very foolish, but i can't help it. indeed i can't." in proof of the truth of this assertion she broke down again, and the captain, moving uneasily on his chair, ground the bonnet almost to powder--it was a straw one. "you have been a kind friend, captain wopper," said mrs stoutley, drying her eyes, "a very kind friend." "i'm glad you think so, ma'am; i've meant to be--anyhow." "you have, you have," cried mrs stoutley, earnestly, as she looked through her tears into the seaman's rugged countenance, "and that is my reason for venturing to ask you now to trouble yourself with--with--" there was an alarming symptom here of a recurrence of "squally weather," which caused the captain to give the bonnet an "extra turn," but she recovered herself and went on-- "with my affairs. i would not have thought of troubling you, but with poor lewie so ill, and dr lawrence being so young, and probably inexperienced in the ways of life, and emma so innocent and helpless, and--in short i'm--hee!--that is to say--ho dear! i _am_ so silly, but i can't--indeed i can't--hoo-o-o!" it blew a regular gale now, and a very rain of straw _debris_ fell through the cane-bottomed chair on which the captain sat, as he vainly essayed to sooth his friend by earnest, pathetic, and even tender adjurations to "clap a stopper upon that," to "hold hard," to "belay", to "shut down the dead-lights of her peepers," and such-like expressive phrases. at length, amid many sobs, the poor lady revealed the overwhelming fact that she was a beggar; that she had actually come down to her last franc; that her man of business had flatly declined to advance her another sovereign, informing her that the gorong mine had declared "no dividend;" that the wreck of her shattered fortune had been swallowed up by the expenses of their ill-advised trip to switzerland, and that she had not even funds enough to pay their travelling expenses home; in short that she was a miserable boulder, at the lowest level of the terminal moraine! to all this captain wopper listened in perfect silence, with a blank expression on his face that revealed nothing of the state of feeling within. "oh! captain wopper," exclaimed the poor lady anxiously, "surely-- surely _you_ won't forsake me! i know that i have no claim on you beyond friendship, but you have always given us to understand that you were well off, and i merely wish to _borrow_ a small sum. just enough, and no more. perhaps i may not be able to repay you just immediately, but i hope soon; and even if it came to the worst, there is the furniture in euston square, and the carriage and horses." poor mrs stoutley! she was not aware that her man of business had already had these resources appraised, and that they no more belonged to her at that moment than if they had been part of the personal estate of the celebrated man in the moon. still the captain gazed at her in stolid silence. "even my personal wardrobe," proceeded mrs stoutley, beginning again to weep, "i will gladly dis--" "avast! madam," cried the captain, suddenly, thrusting his right hand into his breeches-pocket, and endeavouring to drag something therefrom with a series of wrenches that would have been terribly trying to the bonnet, had its ruin not been already complete, "don't talk to me of repayment. ain't i your--your--husband's brother's buzzum friend-- willum's old chum an' messmate? see here." he jerked the chair (without rising) close to a table which stood at his elbow, and placed thereon a large canvas bag, much soiled, and tied round the neck with a piece of rope-yarn, which smelt of tar even at a distance. this was the captain's purse. he carried it always in his right trouser-pocket, and it contained his gold. as for such trifling metal as silver, he carried that loose, mixed with coppers, bits of tobacco, broken pipes, and a clasp-knife, in the other pocket. he was very fond of his purse. in california he had been wont to carry nuggets in it, that simple species of exchange being the chief currency of the country at the time he was there. some of the californian _debris_ had stuck to it when he had filled it, at a place of exchange in london, with napoleons. emptying its glittering contents upon the table, he spread it out. "there, madam," he said, with a hearty smile, "you're welcome to all i've got about me just at this moment, and you shall have more when that's done. don't say `not so much,' cause it ain't much, fifty pound, more or less, barrin' the nuggets, which i'll keep, as i dessay they would only worry you, and there's plenty more shot in the locker where that come from; an' don't talk about payin' back or thankin' me. you've no occasion to thank me. it's only a loan, an' i'll hold willum, your brother-in-law, responsible. you wouldn't decline to take it from willum, would you?" "indeed no; william stout has always been so kind to us--kinder than i have deserved." "well, then, i'll write to willum. i'll say to him, `willum, my boy, here's your brother's widdy bin caught in a squall, had her sails blown to ribbons, bin throw'd on her beam-ends, and every stick torn out of her. you've got more cash, willum, than you knows what to do with, so, hand over, send me a power of attorney (is that the thing?) or an affydavy--whatever lawyer's dockiments is required--an' i'll stand by and do the needful.' an' willum 'll write back, with that power an' brevity for which he is celebrated,--`wopper, my lad, all right; fire away. anything short o' ten thousand, more or less. do yer w'ust. yours to command, "`willum.'" there was no resisting such arguments. mrs stoutley smiled through her tears as she accepted the money. captain wopper rose, crammed the empty canvas bag into his pocket, and hastily retired, with portions of the bonnet attached to him. "susan," said mrs stoutley, on the maid answering her summons, "we shall start for london tomorrow, or the day after, so, pray, set about packing up without delay." "very well, ma'am," replied susan, whose eyes were riveted with an expression of surprised curiosity on the cane-bottomed chair. "it is my bonnet susan," said the lady, looking in the same direction with a sad smile. "captain wopper sat down on it by mistake. you had better remove it." to remove it was a feat which even susan, with all her ready wit and neatness of hand, could not have accomplished without the aid of brush and shovel. she, therefore, carried it off chair and all, to the regions below, where she and gillie went into convulsions over it. "oh! susan," exclaimed the blue spider, "wot would i not have given to have seed him a-doin' of it! only think! the ribbons, flowers, and straw in one uniwarsal mush! _wot_ a grindin' there must ave bin! i heer'd the purfesser the other day talkin' of wot he calls glacier-haction--how they flutes the rocks an' grinds in a most musical way over the boulders with crushin' wiolence; but wot's glacier haction to _that_?" susan admitted that it was nothing; and they both returned at intervals in the packing, during the remainder of that day, to have another look at the bonnet-debris, and enjoy a fresh explosion over it. chapter twenty two. mysterious proceedings of the captain and gillie. we are back again in london--in mrs roby's little cabin at the top of the old tenement in grubb's court. captain wopper is there, of course. so is mrs roby. gillie white is there also, and susan quick. the captain is at home. the two latter are on a visit--a social tea-party. little netta white, having deposited baby white in the mud at the lowest corner of the court for greater security, is waiting upon them--a temporary handmaiden, relieving, by means of variety, the cares of permanent nursehood. mrs white is up to the elbows in soap-suds, taking at least ocular and vocal charge of the babe in the mud, and her husband is--"drunk, as usual?" no--there is a change there. good of some kind has been somewhere at work. either knowingly or unwittingly some one has been "overcoming evil with good," for mrs white's husband is down at the docks toiling hard to earn a few pence wherewith to increase the family funds. and who can tell what a terrible yet hopeful war is going on within that care-worn, sin-worn man? to toil hard with shattered health is burden enough. what must it be when, along with the outward toil, there is a constant fight with a raging watchful devil within? but the man has given that devil some desperate falls of late. oh, how often and how long he has fought with him, and been overcome, cast down, and his armoury of resolutions scattered to the winds! but he has been to see some one, or some one has been to see him, who has advised him to try another kind of armour--not his own. he knows the power of a "new affection" now. despair was his portion not long ago. he is now animated by hope, for the long uncared-for name of jesus is now growing sweet to his ear. but the change has taken place recently, and he looks very weary as he toils and fights. "well, mother," said captain wopper, "now that i've given you a full, true, an' partikler account of switzerland, what d'ee think of it?" "it is a strange place--very, but i don't approve of people risking their lives and breaking their limbs for the mere pleasure of getting to the top of a mountain of ice." "but we can't do anything in life without riskin' our lives an' breakin' our limbs more or less," said the captain. "an' think o' the interests of science," said gillie, quoting the professor. mrs roby shook her tall cap and remained unconvinced. to have expected the old nurse to take an enlightened view on that point would have been as unreasonable as to have looked for just views in gillie white on the subject of conic sections. "why, mother, a man may break a leg or an arm in going down stairs," said the captain, pursuing the subject; "by the way, that reminds me to ask for fred leven. didn't i hear that _he_ broke his arm coming up his own stair? is it true?" "true enough," replied mrs roby. "was he the worse of liquor at the time?" "no. it was dark, and he was carrying a heavy box of something or other for his mother. fred is a reformed man. i think the sight of your poor father, gillie, has had something to do with it, and that night when his mother nearly died. at all events he never touches drink now, and he has got a good situation in one of the warehouses at the docks." "that's well," returned the captain, with satisfaction. "i had hopes of that young feller from the night you mention. now, mother, i'm off. gillie and i have some business to transact up the water. very particular business--eh, lad?" "oh! wery partickler," said gillie, responding to his patron's glance with a powerful wink. expressing a hope that susan would keep mrs roby company till he returned, the captain left the room with his usual heavy roll, and the spider followed with imitative swagger. captain wopper was fond of mystery. although he had, to some extent made a confidant of the boy for whom he had taken so strong a fancy, he nevertheless usually maintained a dignified distance of demeanour towards him, and a certain amount of reticence, which, as a stern disciplinarian, he deemed to be essential. this, however, did not prevent him from indulging in occasional, not to say frequent, unbendings of disposition, which he condescended to exhibit by way of encouragement to his small _protege_; but these unbendings and confidences were always more or less shrouded in mystery. many of them, indeed, consisted of nothing more intelligible than nods, grins, and winks. "that'll be rather a nice cottage when it's launched," said the captain, pointing to a building in process of erection, which stood so close to the edge of the thames that its being launched seemed as much a literal allusion as a metaphor. "raither bobbish," assented the spider. "clean run fore and aft with bluff bows, like a good sea-boat," said the captain. "come, let's have a look at it." asking permission to enter of a workman who granted the same with, what appeared to gillie, an unnecessarily broad grin, the captain led the way up a spiral staircase. it bore such a strong resemblance to the familiar one of grubb's court that gillie's eyes enlarged with surprise, and he looked involuntarily back for his soapy mother and the babe in the mud. there were, however, strong points of dissimilarity, inasmuch as there was no mud or filth of any kind near the new building except lime; and the stair, instead of leading like that of the tower of babel an interminable distance upwards, ended abruptly at the second floor. here, however, there was a passage exactly similar to the passage leading to mrs roby's cabin, save that it was well lighted, and at the end thereof was an almost exact counterpart of the cabin itself. there was the same low roof, the same little fireplace, with the space above for ornaments, and the same couple of little windows looking out upon a stretch of the noble river, from which you might have fished. there was the same colour of paint on the walls, which had been so managed as to represent the dinginess of antiquity. there was also, to all appearance, mrs roby's own identical bed, with its chintz curtains. here, however, resemblance ended, for there was none of the grubb's court dirt. the craft on the river were not so large or numerous, the reach being above the bridges. if you had fished you not have hooked rats or dead cats, and if you had put your head out and looked round, you would have encountered altogether a clean, airy, and respectable neighbourhood, populous enough to be quite cheery, with occasional gardens instead of mud-banks, and without interminable rows of tall chimney-pots excluding the light of heaven. gillie, not yet having been quite cured of his objectionable qualities, at once apostrophised his eye and elizabeth martin. "as like as two peas, barrin' the dirt!" the captain evidently enjoyed the lad's astonishment. "a ship-shape sort o' craft, ain't it? it wouldn't be a bad joke to buy it--eh?" gillie, who was rather perplexed, but too much a man of the world to disclose much of his state of mind, said that it wouldn't be a bad move for any feller who had got the blunt. "how much would it cost now?" "a thousand pounds, more or less," said the captain, with discreet allowance for latitude. "ha! a goodish lump, no doubt." "i've half a mind to buy it," continued the captain, looking round with a satisfied smile. "it would be an amoosin' sort o' thing, now, to bring old mrs roby here. the air would be fresher for her old lungs, wouldn't it?" gillie nodded, but was otherwise reticent. "the stair, too, wouldn't be too high to get her down now and again, and a boat could be handy to shove her into without much exertion. for the matter of that," said the captain, looking out, "we might have a slide made, like a swiss couloir, you know, and she could glissade comfortably into the boat out o' the winder. then, there's a beam to hang her ship an' chinee lanterns from, an' a place over the fireplace to stick her knick-knacks. what d'ee think, my lad?" gillie, who had begun to allow a ray of light to enter his mind, gave, as his answer, an emphatic nod and a broad grin. the captain replied with a nod and a wink, whereupon the other retired behind his patron, for the purpose of giving himself a quiet hug of delight, in which act, however, he was caught; the captain being one who always, according to his own showing, kept his weather-eye open. "w'y, what's the matter with you, boy?" "pains in the stummick is aggrawatin' sometimes," answered gillie. "you haven't got 'em, have you?" "well, i can't exactly go for to say as i has," answered gillie, with another grin. "now, look 'ee here, youngster," said the captain, suddenly seizing the spider by his collar and trousers, and swinging him as though about to hurl him through the window into the river, "if you go an' let your tongue wag in regard to this matter, out you go, right through the port-hole--d'ee see?" he set the spider quietly on his legs again, who replied, with unruffled coolness-- "mum's the word, cappen." gillie had been shorn of his blue tights and brass buttons, poor mrs stoutley having found it absolutely necessary, on her return home, to dismiss all her servants, dispose of all her belongings, and retire into the privacy of a poor lodging in a back street. thus the spider had come to be suddenly thrown on the world again, but captain wopper had retained him, he said, as a mixture of errand-boy, cabin-boy, and powder-monkey, in which capacity he dwelt with his mother during the night and revolved like a satellite round the captain during the day. a suit of much more appropriate pepper-and-salt had replaced the blue tights and buttons. altogether, his _tout-ensemble_ was what the captain styled "more ship-shape." we have said that mrs stoutley and her family had made a descent in life. as poor lewis remarked, with a sad smile, they had quitted the gay and glittering heights, and gone, like a magnificent avalanche, down into the moraine. social, not less than physical, avalanches multiply their parts and widen their course during descent. the stoutleys did not fall alone. a green-grocer, a shoemaker, and a baker, who had long been trembling, like human boulders, on the precipice of bankruptcy, went tumbling down along with them, and found rest in a lower part of the moraine than they had previously occupied. "it's a sad business," said lewis to dr lawrence one morning; "and if you continue to attend me, you must do so without the most distant prospect of a fee." "my dear fellow," returned lawrence, "have you no such thing as gratitude in your composition?" "not much, and, if i had ever so much, it would be poor pay." "poor, indeed, if regarded as one's only source of livelihood," rejoined lawrence, "but it is ample remuneration from a friend, whether rich or poor, and, happily, capable of being mixed with pounds, shillings and pence without deterioration. in the present case, i shall be more than rejoiced to take the fee unmixed, but, whether fee'd or not fee'd, i insist on continuing attendance on a case which i have a right to consider peculiarly my own." "it would have been a bad case, indeed, but for you," returned lewis, a flush for a moment suffusing his pale cheek as he took his friend's hand and squeezed it. "i am thoroughly convinced, lawrence, that god's blessing on your skill and unwearied care of me at the time of the accident is the cause of my being alive to thank you to-day. but sit down, my dear fellow, and pray postpone your professional inquiries for a little, as i have something on my mind which i wish to ask you about." lawrence shook his head. "business first, pleasure afterwards," he said; "professional duties must not be postponed." "now," said lewis when he had finished, "are you satisfied? do you admit that even an unprofessional man might have seen at a glance that i am much better, and that your present draft on my gratitude is a mere swindle?" "i admit nothing," retorted the other; "but now, what have you got to say to me?" "i am going to make a confidant of you. are you to be trusted?" "perhaps; i dare not say yes unconditionally, because i'm rather sociable and communicative, and apt to talk in my sleep." "that will do. your answer is sufficiently modest. i will venture. you know captain wopper, i mean, you are well acquainted with his character; well, that kind and eccentric man has made a proposal to my dear mother, which we do not like to accept, and which at the same time we do not quite see our way to refuse. my mother, when in great distress in switzerland, was forced to borrow a small sum of money from him, and thought it right to justify her doing so by letting him know-- what everybody, alas! may know now--that we were ruined. with that ready kindness which is his chief characteristic he at once complied. since our return home he has, with great delicacy but much determination, insisted that we shall accept from him a regular weekly allowance until we have had time to correspond with our uncle stout in california. `you mustn't starve,' he said to my mother--i give you his own words--`and you'd be sure to starve if you was to try to wegitate for six months or so on atmospheric air. it'll take that time before you could get a letter from willum, an' though your son lewis could an' would, work like a nigger to keep your pot bilin' if he was well an' hearty, it's as plain as the nose on your own face, ma'am, that he can't work while he's as thin as a fathom of pump-water an' as weak as a babby. now, you know-at least i can tell 'ee--that my old chum willum is as rich as a east injin nabob. you wouldn't believe, madam, what fortins some gold-diggers have made. w'y, i've seed men light their pipes with fi'-pun' notes for a mere brag out there. i've made a goodish lump o' money myself too,--a'most more than i know what to do with, an' as to willum, i may say he's actooally rollin' in gold. he's also chockfull of regard for you and yours, ma'am. that bein' so, he's sure to send you somethin' to tide you over yer difficulties, an' he's also sure to send somethin' to lewis to help him start fair when he gits well, and he's surest of all to send somethin' to miss emma for all the kind letters she's writ to him doorin' the last five or six years. well, then, i'm willum's buzzum friend, and, knowin' exactly what he'll say an' do in the circumstances, what more nat'ral an' proper than that willum's chum should anticipate willum's wishes, and advance the money-- some of it at least--say three thousand pounds to start with.' now, lawrence," continued lewis, "what should we do? should we accept this offer? the good fellow has evidently made a great deal of money at the gold-fields, and no doubt speaks truly when he says he can afford to advance that sum. and we know our uncle william's character well enough, though we have never seen him, to be quite sure that he will assist my dear mother until i am able to support her. what say you?" "accept the offer at once," said lawrence. "from what i have seen of the captain, i am convinced that he is a warm friend and a genuine man. no doubt he can well afford to do what he proposes, and his opinion of william stout's character is just, for, from what i know of him through mrs roby, who knew him when he was a lad, when his life was saved by my father, he must have a kind heart." "i have no doubt of it, lawrence, and a grateful heart too, if i may judge from a few words that fell from captain wopper about your father and yourself." "indeed! what did he say about us?" "i have no right to repeat observations dropped inadvertently," said lewis, with a laugh. "nor to raise curiosity which you don't mean to satisfy," retorted his friend; "however, my advice is, that you accept the captain's offer, and trust to your uncle's generosity." chapter twenty three. the captain surprises his friends in various ways, and is himself baffled. time and tide passed on--as they are proverbially said to do--without waiting for any one. some people in the great city, aware of this cavalier style of proceeding on the part of time and tide, took advantage of both, and scaled the pinnacled heights of society. others, neglecting their opportunities, or misusing them, produced a series of avalanches more or less noteworthy, and added a few more boulders to the vast accumulations in the great social moraine. several of the actors in this tale were among those who, having learnt a few sharp lessons in the avalanche school, began to note and avail themselves of time and tide--notably, mrs stoutley and her son and niece. a decided change had come over the spirit of mrs stoutley's dream of life. she had at last visited the great london moraine, especially that part of it called grubb's court, and had already dug up a few nuggets and diamonds, one of which latter she brought to her humble home in the back street, with the design of polishing it into a good servant-maid. its name was netta white. mrs stoutley had formerly been a spendthrift; now she was become covetous. she coveted the male diamond belonging to the same part of the moraine--once named the spider, _alias_ the imp--but captain wopper had dug up that one for himself and would not part with it. gradually the good lady conceived and carried out the idea of digging out and rescuing a number of diamonds, considerably lower in the scale than the netta type, training them for service, and taking pains to get them into good situations. it was hard work no doubt, but mrs stoutley persevered, and was well repaid--for the master of such labourers esteems them "worthy of their hire." emma assisted in the work most heartily. it was by no means new to her. she might have directed if she had chosen, but she preferred to follow. lewis recovered rapidly--so rapidly that he was soon able to resume his medical studies and prosecute them with vigour. no bad effects of the accident remained, yet he was an altered man--not altered in appearance or in character, but in spirit. he was still off-hand in manner, handsome in face and figure, hearty in society, but earnest and grave-- very grave--in private. he pored over his books, and strove, successfully too, to master the difficulties of the healing art; but do what he would, and fight against it as he might, he was constantly distracted by a pretty face with bright sparkling eyes and a strangely sad expression coming between him and the page. he made continual inquiries after the owner of the sparkling eyes in every direction without success, and at last got into the habit when walking, of looking earnestly at people as if he expected to meet with some one. "if i had got into this state," he sometimes said to himself, "because of being merely in love with a pretty face, i should consider myself a silly nincompoop; but it is such a terrible thing for so sweet and young a creature to be chained to a man who must in the nature of things, land her in beggary and break her heart." thus he deceived himself as to his main motive. poor lewis! one morning captain wopper got up a little earlier than usual, and began a series of performances which mrs roby had long ago styled "rampadgin" round his garret. the reader may have discovered by this time that the captain was no ordinary man. whatever he did in connection with himself was done with almost superhuman energy and noise. since the commencement of his residence in the garret he had unwittingly subjected the nerves of poor mrs roby to such a variety of shocks, that the mere fact of her reason remaining on its throne was an unquestionable proof of a more than usually powerful constitution. it could not well be otherwise. the captain's limbs resembled the limbs of oaks in regard to size and toughness. his spirits were far above "proof." his organs were cathedral organs compared with the mere barrel-organs of ordinary men. on the other hand, the "cabin" in grubb's court was but a flimsy tenement; its plank floorings were thin, and its beams and rafters slim and somewhat loose owing to age, so that when the captain snored, which he did regularly and continuously, it was as if a mastiff had got inside a double-bass and were growling hideously. but mrs roby had now got pretty well accustomed to her lodger's ways. her nerves had become strung to the ordeal, and she even came to like the galvanic battery in which she dwelt, because of its being worked by the intimate friend of her dear william; such is the power of love--we might almost say, in this case, of reflected love! the good old lady had even become so acute in her perceptions, that, without seeing the "rampadger," she knew precisely the part of his daily programme with which he happened to be engaged. of course the snoring told its own tale with brazen-tongued clamour, and the whole tenement trembled all night long from top to bottom. nothing but the regardless nature of the surrounding population prevented the captain from being indicted as a nuisance; but there were other sounds that were not so easily recognised. on the morning in question, mrs roby, lying placidly in her neat white little bed, and gazing with a sweet contented face through one of her cabin windows at the bright blue sky, heard a sound as though a compound animal--hog and whale--had aroused itself and rolled over on its other side. a low whistling followed. mrs roby knew that the captain was pleasantly engaged with his thoughts--planning out the proceedings of the day. suddenly the whistling ceased and was followed by a sonorous "how-ho!" terminating in a gasp worthy of an express locomotive. the captain had stretched himself and mrs roby smiled at her own thoughts, as well she might for they embraced the idea that a twentieth part of the force employed in that stretch would have rent in twain every tendon, muscle, sinew, and filament in her, mrs roby's, body. next, there descended on the floor overhead a sixteen-stone cannon ball, which caused--not the neighbours, but the boards and rafters to complain. the captain was up! and succeeding sounds proved that he had had another stretch, for there was a bump in the middle of it which showed that, forgetting his stature, the careless man had hit the ceiling with his head. that was evidently a matter of no consequence. from this point the boards and rafters continued to make unceasing complaint, now creaking uneasily as if under great provocation, anon groaning or yelling as though under insufferable torment. from the ceiling of mrs roby's room numerous small bits of plaster, unable to stand it longer, fell and powdered mrs roby's floor. the curtains of her little bed saved her face. there was a slushing and swishing and gasping and blowing now, which might have done credit to a school of porpoises. the captain was washing. something between the flapping of a main top-sail in a shifting squall and the currying of a hippopotamus indicated that the captain was drying himself. the process was interrupted by an unusual, though not quite unknown, crash and a howl; he had overturned the wash-hand basin, and a double thump, followed by heavy dabs, told that the captain was on his knees swabbing it up. next instant the captain's head, with beard and hair in a tremendously rubbed-up condition, appeared upside down at the hatchway. "hallo! old girl, has she sprung a leak anywhere?" "nowhere," replied mrs roby, with a quiet smile. she felt the question to be unnecessary. "she," that is, the roof above her, never did leak in such circumstances. if the thames had suddenly flooded the garret, the captain's energy was sufficient to have swabbed it up in time to prevent a drop reaching "the lower deck." soon after this catastrophe there was a prolonged silence. the captain was reading. mrs roby shut her eyes and joined him in spirit. thereafter the captain's feet appeared at the trap where his head had been, and he descended with a final and tremendous crash to the floor. "see here, mother," he cried, with a look of delight, holding up a very soiled and crumpled letter, "that's from willum." "from william," exclaimed the old woman, eagerly; "why, when did you get it? the postman can't have been here this morning." "of course he hasn't; i got it last night from the limb-o'-the-law that looks after my little matters. i came in late, and you were asleep, so i kep' it to whet yer appetite for breakfast. now listen, you must take it first; i'll get you breakfast afterwards." the captain had by this time got into the way of giving the old woman her breakfast in bed every morning. "go on," said the old woman, nodding. the captain spread out the letter on his knee with great care, and read aloud:-- "my dear wopper, got yer letter all right. "my blissin' to the poor widdy. help her? ov coorse i'll help her. you did right in advancin' the money, though you fell short, by a long way, when you advanced so little. hows'ever, no matter. i gave you my last will an' testimony w'en we parted. here's a noo un. inside o' this, if i don't forget it before i've done, you'll find a cheque for thirteen thousand pounds sterling. give three to the widdy, with my respects; give four to dear emma gray, with my best love and blissin'; give two to mister lewis, with my compliments; an' give four to young lawrence, with my benediction, for his father's sake. as for the old 'ooman roby, you don't need to give nothin' to her. she and i understand each other. _i'll_ look after her myself. i'll make her my residooary legatee, an' wotever else is needful; but, in the meantime, you may as well see that she's got all that she wants. build her a noo house too. i'm told that grubb's court ain't exactly aristocratic or clean; see to that. wotever you advance out o' yer own pocket, i'll pay back with interest. that's to begin with, tell 'em. there's more comin'. there--i'm used up wi' writin' such a long screed. i'd raither dig a twenty-futt hole in clay sile any day.-- yours to command, willum. "p.s.--you ain't comin' back soon--are you?" "now, mother, what d'ee think o' that?" said the captain, folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. "it's a good, kind letter--just like william," answered the old woman. "well, so i'm inclined to think," rejoined the captain, busying himself about breakfast while he spoke; "it provides for everybody in a sort o' way, and encourages 'em to go on hopeful like--don't it strike you so? then, you see, that's four to miss emma, and four to dr lawrence, which would be eight, equal to four hundred a year; and that, with the practice he's gettin' into, would make it six, or thereabouts--not bad to begin with, eh?" the captain followed his remark with a sigh. "what's the matter?" asked mrs roby. "why, you remember, mother, before goin' abroad i set my heart on these two gettin' spliced; but i fear it's no go. sometimes i think they looks fond o' one another, at other times i don't. it's a puzzler. they're both young an' good-lookin' an' good. what more would they have?" "perhaps they want money," suggested the old woman. "you say dr lawrence's income just now is about two hundred; well, gentlefolks find it summat difficult to keep house on that, though it's plenty for the likes of you an' me." "that's true. p'r'aps the doctor is sheerin' off for fear o' draggin' a young creeter into poverty. it never struck me in that light before." beaming under the influence of this hopeful view of the case, the captain proceeded to make another move in the complicated game which he had resolved to play out and win; but this move, which he had considered one of the easiest of all, proved to be the most unfortunate, or rather unmanageable. "now, mother," said he, "i mean to make a proposal to 'ee, before going out for the day, so that you may have time to think over it. this cabin o' yours ain't just the thing, you know,--raither dirty, and too high in the clouds by a long way, so i've bin an' seen a noo house on the river, not unlike this one, an' i wants you to shift your berth. what say 'ee--eh?" to the captain's surprise and dismay, the old woman shook her head decidedly, and no argument which he could bring to bear had the least effect on her. she had, in fact, got used to her humble old home, and attached to it, and could not bear the thought of leaving it. having exhausted his powers of suasion in vain, he left her to think over it, and sallied forth crestfallen. however, he consoled himself with the hope that time and consideration would bring her to a right state of mind. meanwhile he would go to the parties interested, and communicate the contents of willum's letter. he went first to doctor lawrence, who was delighted as well as pleased at what it contained. the captain at first read only the clauses which affected his friends the stoutleys, and said nothing about that which referred to the doctor himself. "so you see, doctor, i'm off to let the stoutleys know about this little matter, and just looked in on you in passing." "it was very kind of you, captain." "not at all, by no means," returned the captain, pulling out a large clasp-knife, with which he proceeded carefully to pare his left thumb nail. "by the way, doctor," he said carelessly, "were you ever in love?" lawrence flushed, and cast a quick glance at his interrogator, who, however, was deeply engaged with the thumb nail. "well, i suppose men at my time of life," he replied, with a laugh, "have had some--" "of course--of course," interrupted the other, "but i mean that i wonder a strapping young fellow like you, with such a good practice, don't get married." the doctor, who had recovered himself, laughed, and said that his good practice was chiefly among the poor, and that even if he wished to marry--or rather, if any one would have him--he would never attempt to win a girl while he had nothing better than two hundred a year and prospects to offer her. "then i suppose you _would_ marry if you had something better to offer," said the captain, finishing off the nail and shutting the clasp-knife with a snap. again the doctor laughed, wondered why the captain had touched on such a theme, and said that he couldn't exactly say what he might or might not do if circumstances were altered. the captain was baffled. however, he said that circumstances _were_ altered, and, after reading over the latter part of willum's letter, left lawrence to digest it at his leisure. we need not follow him on his mission. suffice it to say that he carried no small amount of relief to the minds of mrs stoutley and her household; and, thereafter, met gillie by appointment at charing cross, whence he went to kensington to see a villa, with a view to purchasing it. at night he again essayed to move mrs roby's resolution, and many a time afterwards attacked her, but always with the same result. although, as he said, he fought like a true-blue british seaman, and gave her broadside after broadside as fast as he could load and fire, he made no impression on her whatever. she had nailed her colours to the mast and would never give in. chapter twenty four. in which tremendous forces come to the captain's aid. it is probable that most people can recall occasions when "circumstances" have done for them that which they have utterly failed to effect for themselves. some time after the failure of captain wopper's little plots and plans in regard to mrs roby, "circumstances" favoured him--the wind shifted round, so to speak, and blew right astern. to continue our metaphor, it blew a tremendous gale, and the captain's ends were gained at last only by the sinking of the ship! this is how it happened. one afternoon the captain was walking rather disconsolately down the strand in company with his satellite--we might almost say, his confidant. the street was very crowded, insomuch that at one or two crossings they were obliged to stand a few minutes before venturing over,--not that the difficulty was great, many active men being seen to dodge among the carts, drays, vans, and busses with marvellous ease and safety, but the captain was cautious. he was wont to say that he warn't used to sail in such crowded waters--there warn't enough o' sea room for him--he'd rather lay-to, or stand--off-an'-on for half a day than risk being run down by them shore-goin' crafts. "everything in life seems to go wrong at times," muttered the captain, as he and the satellite lay-to at one of these crossings. "yes, it's coorious, ain't it, sir," said gillie, "an' at other times everything seems to go right--don't it, sir?" "true, my lad, that's a better view to take of it," returned the captain, cheerfully, "come, we'll heave ahead." as they were "heaving" along in silence, the rattle and noise around them being unsuited to conversation, they suddenly became aware that the ordinary din of the strand swelled into a furious roar. gillie was half way up a lamp-post in an instant! from which elevated position he looked down on the captain, and said-- "a ingine!" "what sort of a ingine, my lad?" "a fire! hooray!" shouted gillie, with glittering eyes and flushed countenance, "look out, cappen, keep close 'longside o' me, under the lee o' the lamp-post. it's not a bad buffer, though never quite a sure one, bein' carried clean away sometimes by the wheels w'en there's a bad driver." as he spoke, the most intense excitement was manifested in the crowded thoroughfare. whips were flourished, cabmen shouted, horses reared, vehicles of all kinds scattered right and left even although there had seemed almost a "block" two seconds before. timid foot passengers rushed into shops, bold ones mounted steps and kerb-stones, or stood on tip-toe, and the captain, towering over the crowd, saw the gleam of brass helmets as the charioteer clove his way through the swaying mass. there is something powerfully exciting to most minds in the sight of men rushing into violent action, especially when the action may possibly involve life and death. the natural excitement aroused in the captain's breast was increased by the deep bass nautical roar that met his ear. every man in the london fire-brigade is, or used to be, a picked man-of-war's-man, and the shouting necessary in such a thoroughfare to make people get out of the way was not only tremendous but unceasing. it was as though a dozen mad "bo's'ns," capped with brazen war-helmets, had been let loose on london society, through which they tore at full gallop behind three powerful horses on a hissing and smoking monster of brass and iron. a bomb shell from a twenty-five-ton gun could scarce have cut a lane more effectually. the captain took off his hat and cheered in sympathy. the satellite almost dropped from the lamp-post with excess of feeling. the crash and roar increased, culminated, rushed past and gone in a moment. gillie dropped to the ground as if he had been shot, seized the captain's hand, and attempted to drag him along. he might as well have tried to drag vesuvius from its base, but the captain was willing. a hansom-cab chanced to be in front of them as they dashed into the road, the driver smoking and cool as a cucumber, being used to such incidents. he held up a finger. "quick, in with you, cappen!" gillie got behind his patron, and in attempting to expedite his movements with a push, almost sent him out at the other side. "after the ingine--slap!" yelled gillie to the face which looked down through the conversation-hole in the roof, "double extra fare if you look sharp." the cabman was evidently a sympathetic soul. he followed in the wake of the fire-engine as well as he could; but it was a difficult process, for, while the world at large made way for _it_, nobody cared a straw for _him_! "ain't it fun?" said gillie, as he settled his panting little body on the cushion beside his friend and master. "not bad," responded the captain, who half laughed at the thought of being so led away by excitement and a small boy. "i'd give up all my bright prospects of advancement in life," continued gillie, "to be a fireman. there's no fun goin' equal to a fire." "p'r'aps it don't seem quite so funny to them as is bein' burnt out," suggested the captain. "of course it don't, but that can't be helped, you know--can it, sir? what can't be cured must be endoored, as the proverb says. get along, old fellow, don't spare his ribs--double fare, you know; we'll lose 'em if you don't." the latter part of the remark was shouted through the hole to the cabman, who however, pulled up instead of complying. "it's of no use, sir," he said, looking down at the captain, "i've lost sight of 'em." gillie was on the pavement in a moment. "never mind, cappen, give him five bob, an' decline the change; come along. _i_ see 'em go past the bridge, so ten to one it's down about the docks somewheres--the wust place in london for a fire w'ich, of course, means the best." the idea of its being so afforded such unalloyed pleasure to gillie, that he found it hard to restrain himself and accommodate his pace to that of his friend. it soon became very evident that the fire was in truth somewhere about the docks, for not only was a dense cloud of smoke seen rising in that direction, but fire-engines began to dash from side streets everywhere, and to rush towards the smoke as if they were sentient things impatient for the fray. the cause of such unusual vigour and accumulation of power was, that a fire anywhere about the docks is deemed pre-eminently dangerous, owing to the great and crowded warehouses being stuffed from cellars to roof-trees with combustibles. the docks, in regard to fire, form the citadel of london. if the enemy gets a footing there, he must be expelled at all hazards and at any cost. as the captain and his _protege_ hurried along, they were naturally led in the direction of their home. a vague undefined fear at the same instant took possession of both, for they glanced gravely at each other without speaking, and, as if by mutual consent, began to run. gillie had no need now to complain of his companion's pace. he had enough to do to keep up with it. there were many runners besides themselves now, for the fire was obviously near at hand, and the entire population of the streets seemed to be pressing towards it. a few steps more brought them in sight of the head of grubb's court. here several fire-engines were standing in full play surrounded by a swaying mass of human beings. still there was no sign of the precise locality of the fires for the tall houses hid everything from view save the dense cloud which overshadowed them all. even captain wopper's great strength would have been neutralised in such a crowd if it had not now been seconded by an excitement and anxiety that nothing could resist. he crushed his way through as if he had been one of the steam fire-engines, gillie holding tight to the stout tails of his monkey jacket. several powerful roughs came in his way, and sought to check him. the captain had hitherto merely used his shoulders and his weight. to the roughs he applied a fist--right and left--and two went down. a few seconds brought him to the cordon of policemen. they had seen him approaching, and one placed himself in front of the captain with the quiet air of a man who is accustomed _never_ to give way to physical force! "i live down grubb's court, my man," said the captain, with an eager respectful air, for he was of a law-abiding spirit. the constable stepped aside, and nodded gravely. the captain passed the line, but gillie was pounced upon as if he had been a mouse and the constable a cat. "_he_ belongs to me," cried the captain, turning back on hearing gillie's yell of despair. the boy was released, and both flew down the court, on the pavement of which the snake-like water-hose lay spirting at its seams. "it's in the cabin," said the captain, in a low deep voice, as he dashed into the court, where a crowd of firemen were toiling with cool, quiet, yet tremendous energy. no crowd interrupted them here, save the few frantic inhabitants of the court, who were screaming advice and doing nothing; but no attention whatever was paid to them. a foreman of the brigade stood looking calmly upwards engaged in low-toned conversation with a brother fireman, as if they were discussing theories of the picturesque and beautiful with special application to chimney-cans, clouds of smoke, and leaping tongues of fire. immense engine power had been brought to bear, and one of the gigantic floating-engines of the thames had got near enough to shower tons of water over the buildings, still it was a matter of uncertainty whether the fire could be confined to the court where it had originated. the result of the foreman's quiet talk was that the brother-fireman suddenly seized a nozzle from a comrade, and made a dash at the door leading up to "the cabin." flames and smoke drove him back instantly. it was at this moment that captain wopper came on the scene. without a moment's hesitation he rushed towards the same door. the foreman seized his arm. "it's of no use, sir, you can't do it." the captain shook him off and sprang in. a few seconds and he rushed out choking, scorched, and with his eyes starting almost out of their sockets. "it is of no use, sir," remonstrated the foreman, "besides, the people have all bin got out, i'm told." "no, they 'aven't," cried mrs white, coming up at the moment, frantically wringing the last article of linen on which she had been professionally engaged, "mrs roby's there yet." "all right, sir," said the foreman, with that quiet comforting intonation which is peculiar to men of power, resource, and self-reliance, "come to the back. the escape will be up immediately. it couldn't get down the court, owin' to some masonry that was piled there, and had to be sent round." quick to understand, the captain followed the fireman, and reached the back of the house, on the riverside, just as the towering head of the escape emerged from a flanking alley. "this way. the small window on the right at the top--so." the ladder was barely placed when the captain sprang upon it and ran up as, many a time before, he had run up the shrouds of his own vessel. a cheer from the crowd below greeted this display of activity, but it was changed into a laugh when the captain, finding the window shut and bolted, want into the room head first, carrying frame and glass along with him! divesting himself of the uncomfortable necklace, he looked hastily round. the smoke was pretty thick, but not sufficiently so to prevent his seeing poor mrs roby lying on the floor as if she had fallen down suffocated. "cheer up, old lass," he cried, kneeling and raising her head tenderly. "is that you, cappen?" said the old woman, in a weak voice. "come, we've no time to lose. let me lift you; the place is all alight. i thought you was choked." "choked! oh dear, no," replied the old woman, "but i've always heard that in a fire you should keep your face close to the ground for air-- ah! gently, cappen, dear!" while she was speaking, the captain was getting her tucked under his strong right arm. he could have whisked her on his shoulder in a moment, but was afraid of her poor old bones, and treated her as if she had been a fragile china tea-cup of great value. next moment he was out on the escape, and reached the ground amid ringing cheers. he carried her at once to the nearest place of safety, and, committing her to the care of mrs white, rushed back to the scene of conflagration just as they were about to remove the escape. "stop!" shouted the captain, springing on it. "there's nobody else up, is there?" cried a fireman, as the captain ran up. "no, nobody." "come down then, directly," roared the fireman, "the escape is wanted elsewhere. come down, i say, or we'll leave you." "you're welcome to leave me," roared the captain, as he stepped into the window, "only hold your noise, an' mind your own business." with a mingled feeling of amusement and indignation they hurried away with the escape. it had been urgently wanted to reach a commanding position whence to assail the fire. the order to send it was peremptory, so the captain was left in his uncomfortable situation, with the smoke increasing around him, and the fire roaring underneath. the actions of our seaman were now curious as well as prompt. taking a blanket from his old friend's bed, he spread it below the chimney-piece, and in a remarkably short time pulled down, without damaging, every object on the wall and threw it into the blanket. he then added to the heap the chinese lantern, the turkish scimitar, the new zealand club, the eastern shield, the ornamented dagger, the worsted work sampler, the sou'-wester, the oiled coat, the telescope, the framed sheet of the flags of all nations, and the small portrait of the sea-captain in his "go-to-meetin'" clothes; also the big bible and a very small box, which latter contained mrs roby's limited wardrobe. he tied all up in a tight bundle. a coil of rope hung on a peg on the wall. the bundle was fastened to the end of it and lowered to the ground, amid a fire of remarks from the crowd, which were rather caustic and humorous than complimentary. "gillie," shouted the captain, "cast off the rope, lad, and look well after the property." "ay, ay, cappen," replied the youth, taking up a thick cart-pin, or something of the sort, that lay near, and mounting guard. there was another laugh, from crowd and firemen, at the nautical brevity and promptitude of gillie. at every large fire in london there may be seen a few firemen standing about in what an ignorant spectator might imagine to be easy indifference and idleness, but these men are not idlers. they are resting. the men who first arrive at a fire go into action with the utmost vigour, and toil until their powers are nearly--sometimes quite-- exhausted. as time passes fresh men are continually arriving from the more distant stations. these go into action as they come up, thus relieving the others, who stand aloof for a time looking on, or doing easy work, and recruiting their energies. it was these men who watched the captain's proceedings with much amusement while their comrades were doing battle with the foe. presently the captain reappeared at the window and lowered a huge sea-chest. a third time he appeared with the model of a full-rigged ship in his hand. this time he let the end of the rope down, and then getting over the window, slid easily to the ground. "you're uncommon careful o' your property," exclaimed one of the onlookers, with a broad grin. "'taint all _my_ property, lad," replied the captain, with a good-humoured nod, "most of it is a poor old 'ooman's belongings." so saying, he got a man to carry his sea-chest, himself shouldered the bundle, gillie was intrusted with the full-rigged model, and thus laden they left the scene followed by another laugh and a hearty cheer. but our bluff seaman was not content with rescuing mrs roby and her property. he afterwards proceeded to lend his effective aid to all who desired his assistance, and did not cease his exertions until evening, by which time the fire was happily subdued. "she must not be moved to-night captain," said dr lawrence, for whom gillie had been sent; "the place where she lies is doubtless far from comfortable, but i have got her to sleep, and it would be a pity to awake her. to-morrow we shall get her into more comfortable quarters." "could she bear movin' to-morrow, a mile or so?" asked the captain. "certainly, but there is no occasion to go so far. lodgings are to be had--" "all right, doctor; i've got a lodging ready for her, and will ask you to come an' have pot-luck with us before long. gillie, my lad, you go hail a cab, and then come back to lend a hand wi' the cargo." in a few minutes the pair were whirling towards the west end of london, and were finally landed with their "cargo" on the banks of the thames above the bridges, near the new building which captain wopper had named, after its prototype, "the cabin." to fit this up after the fashion of the old place was a comparatively short and easy work for two such handy labourers. before they left that night it was so like its predecessor in all respects, except dirt, that both declared it to be the "identical same craft, in shape and rig, even to the little bed and curtains." next afternoon mrs roby was brought to it by captain wopper, in a specially easy carriage hired for the purpose. the poor old woman had received more of a shock than she was willing to admit, and did exactly as she was bid, with many a sigh, however, at the thought of having been burnt out of the old home. she was carried up the stair in a chair by two porters, and permitted the captain to draw a thick veil over her head to conceal, as he said, her blushes from the men. he also took particular care to draw the curtains of the bed close round her after she had been laid in it and then retired to allow her to be disrobed by netta, who had been obtained from mrs stoutley on loan expressly for the occasion. much of this care to prevent her seeing the place that day, however, was unnecessary. the poor old creature was too much wearied by the short journey to look at anything. after partaking of a little tea and toast she fell into a quiet sleep, which was not broken till late on the following morning. her first thought on waking was the fire. her second, the captain. he was in the room, she knew, because he was whistling in his usual low tone while moving about the fireplace preparing breakfast. she glanced at the curtains; her own curtains certainly,--and the bed too! much surprised, she quietly put out her thin hand and drew the curtain slightly aside. the captain in his shirt sleeves, as usual, preparing buttered toast, the fireplace, the old kettle with the defiant spout singing away as defiantly as ever, the various photographs, pot-lids, and other ornaments above the fireplace, the two little windows commanding an extensive prospect of the sky from the spot where she lay, the full-rigged ship, the chinese lantern hanging from the beam-- everything just as it should be! "well, well," thought mrs roby, with a sigh of relief; "the fire must have been a dream after all! but what a vivid one!" she coughed. the captain was at her side instantly. "slept well, old girl?" "very well, thank you. i've had such a queer dream, d'you know?" "have you? take your breakfast, mother, before tellin' it. it's all ready--there, fire away." "it _was_ such a vivid one," she resumed, when half through her third cup, "all about a fire, and you were in it too." here she proceeded to relate her dream with the most circumstantial care. the captain listened with patient attention till she had finished, and then said-- "it was no dream, mother. it's said that the great fire of london was a real blessin' to the city. the last fire in london will, i hope, be a blessin' to you an' me. it was real enough and terrible too, but through god's mercy you have been saved from it. i managed to save your little odds and ends too. this is the noo `cabin,' mother, that you wouldn't consent to come to. something like the old one, ain't it?" mrs roby spoke never a word, but looked round the room in bewilderment. taking the captain's hand she kissed it, and gazed at him and the room until she fell asleep. awaking again in half an hour, she finished her breakfast, asked for the old bible, and, declaring herself content, fell straightway into her old ways and habits. chapter twenty five. an unexpected gem found. although lewis stoutley found it extremely difficult to pursue his studies with the profusely illustrated edition of medical works at his command, he nevertheless persevered with a degree of calm, steady resolution which might be almost styled heroic. to tear out the illustrations was impossible, for nita's portrait was stamped on every page, compelling him to read the letterpress through it. success, however, attended his labours, for he not only carried out the regular course, but he attached himself to the poor district of the "moraine" which had been appropriated as their own by his mother and emma, who ministered to the bodies of the sick while they sought to bring their souls to the good physician. this professional work he did as a sort of amateur, being only a student under the guidance of his friend lawrence, whose extending practice included that district. it happened also to be the district in which mrs roby's new "cabin" was situated. these labourers, in what dr tough had styled the london gold fields, not only did good to the people, and to themselves in the prosecution of them, but resulted occasionally in their picking up a nugget, or a diamond, which was quite a prize. one such was found by lewis about this time, which, although sadly dim and soiled when first discovered, proved to be such a precious and sparkling gem that he resolved to wear it himself. he and emma one day paid a visit to the cabin, where they found old mrs roby alone, and had a long chat with her, chiefly about the peculiarities of the captain and his boy. "by the way," said mrs roby to lewis, when they rose to go, "a poor woman was here just before you came, askin' if i knew where she could find a doctor, for her father, she said, was very ill. the two have come to live in a room near the foot of this stair, it seems, and they appear to be very poor. i could not give her dr lawrence's new address, for i don't know it, so i advised her to apply to the nearest chemist. perhaps, mr lewis, you'll go yourself and see the poor man?" "willingly, and i shall myself call for lawrence on my way home and send him, if necessary. come, emma. perhaps this may be a case for the exercise of your philanthropy." they soon found the place, and knocked at a low door, which was slowly opened by a middle-aged woman, meanly clad and apparently very poor. "ah, sir, you're too late, he's dead," said the woman, in reply to lewis's inquiry. "o how sad!" broke from emma's sympathetic spirit, "i am _so_ sorry we are too late. did you find a doctor?" "no, ma'am, i didn't, but the chemist gave me the address of one, so i ran back to tell the poor young thing that i'd go fetch one as quick as i could, and i found him just dying in her arms." "in whose arms? are not you the daughter--" said emma. "me, miss! oh dear, no. i'm only a neighbour." "has she any friends?" asked lewis. "none as i knows of. they are strangers here--only just came to the room. there it is," she added, stepping back and pointing to an inner door. lewis advanced and knocked, but received no answer. he knocked again. still no answer. he therefore ventured to lift the latch and enter. it was a miserable, ill-lighted room, of small size and destitute of all furniture save a truckle bed, a heap of clean straw in a corner, on which lay a black shawl, a deal chair, and a small table. abject poverty was stamped on the whole place. on the bed lay the dead man, covered with a sheet. beside it kneeled, or rather lay, the figure of a woman. her dress was a soiled and rusty black. her hair, fallen from its fastenings, hung dishevelled on her shoulders. her arms clasped the dead form. "my poor woman," whispered emma, as she knelt beside her, and put a hand timidly on her shoulder. but the woman made no answer. "she has fainted, i think," exclaimed emma, rising quickly and trying to raise the woman's head. suddenly lewis uttered a great cry, lifted the woman in his arms, and gazed wildly into her face. "nita!" he cried, passionately clasping her to his heart and covering the poor faded face with kisses; but nita heard not. it seemed as if the silver chord had already snapped. becoming suddenly aware of the impropriety as well as selfishness of his behaviour, lewis hastily bore the inanimate form to the heap of straw, pillowed the small head on the old shawl, and began to chafe the hands while emma aided him to restore consciousness. they were soon successful. nita heaved a sigh. "now, emma," said lewis, rising, "this is _your_ place just now, i will go and fetch something to revive her." he stopped for one moment at the bed in passing, and lifted the sheet. there was no mistaking the handsome face of the count even in death. it was terribly thin, but the lines of sorrow and anxiety were gone at last from the marble brow, and a look of rest pervaded the whole countenance. on returning, lewis found that nita had thrown her arms round emma's neck and was sobbing violently. she looked up as he entered, and held out her hand. "god has sent you," she said, looking at emma, "to save my heart from breaking." lewis again knelt beside her and put her hand to his lips, but he had no power to utter a word. presently, as the poor girl's eye fell on the bed, there was a fresh outburst of grief. "oh, how he loved me!--and how nobly he fought!--and how gloriously he conquered!--god be praised for that!" she spoke, or rather sobbed, in broken sentences. to distract her mind, if possible, even for a little, from her bereavement, emma ventured to ask her how she came there, when her father became so ill, and similar questions. little by little, in brief sentences, and with many choking words and tears, the sad story came out. ever since the night when her father met with lewis at saxon, he had firmly resisted the temptation to gamble. god had opened his ear to listen to, and his heart to receive, the saviour. arriving in london with the money so generously lent to them by lewis, they took a small lodging and sought for work. god was faithful to his promises, she said; he had sent a measure of prosperity. her father taught music, she obtained needlework. all was going well when her father became suddenly ill. slowly but steadily he sank. the teaching had to be given up, the hours of labour with the needle increased. this, coupled with constant nursing, began to sap her own strength, but she had been enabled to hold out until her father became so ill that she dared not leave him even for a few minutes to visit the shops where she had obtained sewing-work. then, all source of livelihood being dried up, she had been compelled to sell one by one the few articles of clothing and furniture which they had begun to accumulate about them. "thus," she said, in conclusion, "we were nearly reduced to a state of destitution, but, before absolute want had been felt by us, god mercifully took my darling father home--and--and--i shall soon join him." "say not so, darling," said emma, twining her arms round the poor stricken girl. "it may be that he has much work for you to do for jesus _here_ before he takes you home. meanwhile, he has sent us to claim you as our very dear friend--as our sister. you must come and stay with mamma and me. we, too, have tasted something of that cup of adversity, which you have drained to the very dregs, my poor nita, but we are comparatively well off now. mamma will be so glad to have you. say you will come. won't you, dearest?" nita replied by lifting her eyes with a bewildered look to the bed, and again burst into a passion of uncontrollable sorrow. chapter twenty six. the denouement. being naturally a straightforward man, and not gifted with much power in the way of plotting and scheming, captain wopper began in time to discover that he had plunged his mental faculties into a disagreeable state of confusion. "gillie, my lad," he said, looking earnestly at his satellite while they walked one afternoon along the bayswater road in the direction of kensington, "it's a bad business altogether." gillie, not having the smallest idea what the captain referred to, admitted that it was "wery bad indeed," but suggested that "it might be wuss." "it's such a perplexin' state o' things," pursued the captain, "to be always bouncin' up an' down wi' hopes, an' fears, an' disappointments, like a mad barometer, not knowin' rightly what's what or who's who." "uncommon perplexin'," assented gillie. "if i was you, cappen, i'd heave the barometer overboard along wi' the main-deck, nail yer colours to the mast, cram the rudder into the lee-scuppers, kick up your flyin'-jib-boom into the new moon, an' go down stern foremost like a man!" "ha!" said the captain, with a twinkle in the corner of his "weather-eye," "not a bad notion." "now, my lad, i'm goin' out to my villa at kensington to dine. there's to be company, too, an' you're to be waiter--" "stooard, you mean?" "well, yes--stooard. now, stooard, you'll keep a good look-out, an' clap as tight a stopper on yer tongue as may be. i've got a little plot in hand, d'ee see, an' i want you to help me with it. keep your eye in a quiet way on dr lawrence and miss gray. i've taken a fancy that perhaps they may be in love with each other. you just let me have your opinion on that pint after dinner, but have a care that you don't show what you're up to, and, whatever you do, don't be cheeky." "all right," said the stooard, thrusting both hands into his trouser-pockets; "i'll do my best." while these two were slowly wending their way through kensington gardens, emma gray arrived at the captain's villa--california cottage, he called it--and rang the bell. the gate was opened by netta white, who, although not much bigger than when first introduced to the reader, was incomparably more beautiful and smart. mrs stoutley had reason to be proud of her. "i did not know that _you_ were to be here, netta?" said emma, in surprise, as she entered. "it was a very sudden call, miss," said netta, with a smile. "captain wopper wrote a note to me, begging me to ask mrs stoutley to be so good as lend me to him for a day to help at his house-warming. here is the letter, miss." emma laughed as she glanced carelessly at the epistle, but became suddenly grave, turned white, then red, and, snatching the letter from the girl's hand, gazed at it intently. "la! miss, is anything wrong?" "may i keep this?" asked emma. "certainly, miss, if you wish it." before she could say anything more, they were interrupted by the entrance of dr lawrence. with a surprised look and smile he said-- "i have been invited to dine with our friend captain wopper, but did not anticipate the pleasure of meeting miss gray here." emma explained that she also had been invited to dine with the captain, along with her mother and brother, but had supposed that that was all the party, as he, the captain, had mentioned no one else, and had been particular in begging her to come an hour before the time, for the purpose of going over his new villa with him, and giving him her private opinion of it. "i am punctual," she added, consulting her watch; "it is just four o'clock." "four! then what is the dinner hour?" "five," answered emma. "the captain's wits must have been wool-gathering," rejoined lawrence, with a laugh. "he told me to come punctually at four. however, i rejoice in the mistake, as it gives me the great pleasure of assisting you to form an unprejudiced opinion of the merits of the new villa. shall we begin with an exploration of the garden?" emma had no cause to blush at such an innocent proposal, nevertheless a richer colour than usual mantled on her modest little face as she fell in with the doctor's humour and stepped out into the small piece of ground behind the house. it was of very limited extent and, although not surrounded too closely by other villas, was nevertheless thoroughly overlooked by them, so that seclusion in that garden was impossible. recognising this fact, a former proprietor had erected at the lower end of the garden a bower so contrived that its interior was invisible from all points except one, and that was a side door to the garden which opened on a little passage by which coals, milk, meat, and similar substances were conveyed from the front to the rear of the house. dr lawrence and emma walked round and round the garden very slowly, conversing earnestly. strange to say, they quite forgot the object which had taken them there. their talk was solely of switzerland. as it continued, the doctor's voice deepened in tones and interest, and his fair companion's cheek deepened in colour. suddenly they turned into the bower. as they did so, gillie white chanced to appear at the garden door above referred to, which stood ajar. the spider's countenance was a speaking one. during the five minutes which it appeared in the doorway, it, and the body belonging to it, became powerfully eloquent. it might have conveyed to one's mind, as it were, a series of _tableaux vivants_. gillie's first look was as if he had been struck dumb with amazement (that was lawrence suddenly seizing one of emma's hands in both of his and looking intently into her face). then gillie's look of amazement gave place to one of intense, quite touching--we might almost say sympathetic--anxiety as he placed a hand on each knee and stooped (that was the doctor's right hand stealing round emma's waist, and emma shrinking from him with averted face). the urchin's visage suddenly lighted up with a blaze of triumph, and he seized his cap as if about to cheer (that was the doctor's superior strength prevailing, and emma's head, now turned the other way, laid on his shoulder). all at once gillie went into quiet convulsions, grinned from ear to ear, doubled himself up, slapped his thigh inaudibly--_a la_ captain wopper--and otherwise behaved like an outrageous, yet self-restrained, maniac (that was--well, we have no right to say what _that_ was). as a faithful chronicler, however, we must report that one-half minute later the stooard found captain wopper in the villa drawing-room, and there stated to him that it was "hall right; that he didn't need for to perplex hisself about doctor lawrence and miss hemma gray, for that they was as good as spliced already, having been seen by him, gillie, in the bower at the end of the garding a-blushin' and a--" here the spider stopped short and went into another fit of convulsions--this time unrestrained. is it necessary to say that captain wopper sat at the foot of his own table that day--mrs stoutley being at the head--with his rugged visage radiant and his powerful voice explosive; that he told innumerable sea-stories without point, and laughed at them without propriety; that, in the excess of his hilarity, he drank a mysterious toast to the success of all sorts of engagements, present and future; that he called mrs stoutley (in joke) sister, and emma and lewis (also in joke) niece and neffy; that he called doctor lawrence neffy, too, with a pointedness and a sense of its being the richest possible joke, that covered with confusion the affianced pair; and with surprise the rest of the company; that he kicked the stooard amicably out of the room for indulging in explosions of laughter behind his chair, and recommending him, the captain, to go it strong, and to clap on sail till he should tear the mast out of 'er, or git blowed on his beam-ends; that the stooard returned unabashed to repeat the offence unreproved; that towards the end, the captain began a long-winded graphic story which served to show how his good friend and chum willum stout in callyforny had commissioned him to buy and furnish a villa for the purpose of presenting it to a certain young lady in token of his gratitood to her for bein' such a good and faithful correspondent to him, willum, while he was in furrin' parts; also, how he was commissioned to buy and furnish another villa and present it to a certain doctor whose father had saved him from drownin' long long ago, he would not say _how_ long ago; and how that this villa, in which they was feedin', was one of the said villas, and that he found it quite unnecessary to spend any more of willum's hard-earned gains in the purchase of the other villa, owing to circumstances which had took place in a certain bower that very day! is it necessary, we again ask, to detail all this? we think not; therefore, we won't. when reference was made to the bower, emma could stand, or sit, it no longer. she rose hastily and ran blushing into the garden. captain wopper uttered a thunderous laugh, rose and ran after her. he found her in the bower with her face in her hands, and sat down beside her. "captain wopper," she suddenly exclaimed, looking up and drawing a note from her pocket, "do you know this?" "yes, duckie," (the captain was quite reckless now), "it's my last billy-doo to netta white. i never was good at pot-hooks and hangers." "and do you know _this_ letter?" said emma, holding up to the seaman's eyes her uncle william's last letter to herself. the captain looked surprised, then became suddenly red and confused. "w'y--ye-es, it's willum's, ain't it?" "the same pot-hooks and hangers _precisely_!" said emma, "are they not? oh!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms round the captain's neck and kissing him, "uncle william, how _could_ you deceive us so?" the captain, to use his own expressions, was taken aback--fairly brought up all standin'. it had never occurred to his innocent mind that he should commit himself so simply. he felt an unconquerable objection to expressions of gratitude, and perceiving, with deep foresight that such were impending, his first impulse was to rise and fly, but emma's kiss made him change his mind. he returned it in kind but not in degree, for it caused the bower to resound as with a pistol shot. "oh! wot a cracker, ain't it just? you're a nice man, ain't you, to go poachin' on other fellers--" the captain seized his opportunity, he broke from emma and dashed wildly at the spider, who incontinently fled down the conduit for coals, cheering with the fury of a victorious ashantee chief! chapter twenty seven. the last. humbly confessing to emma gray that he had no talent whatever for plotting, captain wopper went off with a deprecatory expression of countenance to reveal himself to mrs roby. great was his anxiety. he entered her presence like a guilty thing. if, however, his anxiety was great, his surprise and consternation were greater when she received his revelation with tears, and for some time refused to be comforted! the workings of the human mind are wonderful. sometimes they are, as the captain said, bamboozling. if analysed it might have been discovered that, apart altogether from the shock of unexpectedness and the strain on her credulity, poor mrs roby suffered--without clearly understanding it--from a double loss. she had learned to love captain wopper for his own sake, and now captain wopper was lost to her in william stout! on the other hand william, her darling, her smooth-faced chubby boy, was lost to her for ever in the hairy savage captain wopper! it was perplexing as well as heart-rending. captain wopper was gone, because, properly, there was no such being in existence. william stout was gone because he would never write to her any more, and could never more return to her from california! it was of no use that the captain expressed the deepest contrition for the deception he had practised, urging that he had done it "for the best;" the old woman only wept the more; but when, in desperation, the captain hauled taut the sheets of his intellect, got well to wind'ard of the old 'ooman an' gave her a broadside of philosophy, he was more successful. "mother," he said, earnestly, "you don't feel easy under this breeze, 'cause why? you're entirely on the wrong tack. ready about now, an' see what a change it'll make. look 'ee here. you've _gained_ us both instead of lost us both. here am i, willum stout yours to command, a trifle stouter, it may be, and hairier than i once was, not to say older, but by a long chalk better able to love the old girl who took me in, an' befriended me when i was a reg'lar castaway, with dirty weather brewin', an' the rocks o' destitootion close under my lee; and who'll never forget your kindness, no never, so long as two timbers of the old hulk hold together. well then, that's the view over the starboard bulwarks. cast your eyes over to port now. here am i, captain wopper, also yours to command, strong as a horse, as fond o' you as if you was my own mother, an' resolved to stick by you through thick and thin to the last. so you see, you've got us both--willum an' me--me an' willum, both of us lovin' you like blazes an' lookin' arter you like dootiful sons. a double tide of affection, so to speak, flowin' like strong double-stout from the beer barrel out of which you originally drew me, if i may say so. ain't you convinced?" mrs roby _was_ convinced. she gave in, and lived for many years afterwards in the full enjoyment of the double blessing which had thus fallen to her lot in the evening of her days. and here, good reader, we might close our tale; but we cannot do so without a few parting words in reference to the various friends in whose company we have travelled so long. of course it is unnecessary to say, (especially to our lady readers, who were no doubt quite aware of it from the beginning), that lawrence and emma, lewis and nita, were, in the course of time, duly married. the love of their respective wives for each other induced the husbands not only to dwell in adjoining villas, but to enter into a medical co-partnery, in the prosecution of which they became professionally the deities, and, privately, the adored of a large population of invalids-- with their more or less healthy friends--in the salubrious neighbourhood of kensington. to go about "doing good" was the business, and became the second nature, of the young doctors. it was long a matter of great surprise to not a few of their friends that though lawrence and lewis neither smoked nor drank, they were uncommonly healthy and apparently happy! some caustic spirits asserted that they were sure budding wings were to be found on the shoulders of the two doctors, but we are warranted in asserting, on the best authority, that on a strict examination, nothing of the kind was discovered. need we say that emma and nita were pattern wives? of course not, therefore we won't say it. our reticence on this point will no doubt be acceptable to those who, being themselves naughty, don't believe in or admire "patterns," even though these be of "heavenly things." it is astonishing, though, what an effect their so-called "perfection" had in tightening the bonds of matrimony. furthermore, they had immense families of sons and daughters, insomuch that it became necessary to lengthen their cords and strengthen their stakes, and "calyforny villa" became a mere band-box compared to the mansions which they ultimately called "home." mrs stoutley having managed to get entirely out of _herself_--chiefly by means of the bible and the london gold-fields and moraines--became so amiable and so unlike her former self, and, withal, so healthy and cheery, that the two great families of stoutley and lawrence went to war for possession of her. the feud at last threatened to become chronic, and was usually carried to an excess of virulence about christmas and new year time. in order, therefore, to the establishment of peace, mrs stoutley agreed to live one-half of the year with lewis, and the other half with lawrence--lewis to have the larger half as a matter of course; but she retained her cottage in notting hill and her maid netta white, with the right to retire at any moment, when the exigencies of the gold-fields or the moraines demanded special attention; or when the excess of juvenile life in the mansions before mentioned became too much for her. on these occasions of retirement which, to say truth, were not very frequent, she was accompanied by netta white--for netta loved her mistress and clave to her as ruth to naomi. being a native of the "fields," she was an able and sympathetic guide and adviser at all times, and nothing pleased netta better than a visit to grubb's court, for there she saw the blessed fruit of diamond and gold digging illustrated in the person of her own reformed father and happy mother, who had removed from their former damp rooms on the ground floor to the more salubrious apartments among the chimney pots, which had been erected on the site of the "cabin" after "the fire." directly below them, in somewhat more pretentious apartments, shone another rescued diamond in the person of fred leven. he was now the support and comfort of his old mother as well as of a pretty little young woman who had loved him even while he was a drunkard, and who, had it been otherwise decreed, would have gone on loving him and mourning over him and praying for him till he was dead. in her case, however, the mourning had been turned into joy. in process of time gillie white, _alias_ the spider, became a sturdy, square-set, active little man, and was promoted to the position of coachman in the family of lewis stoutley. susan quick served in the same family in the capacity of nurse for many years, and, being naturally thrown much into the society of the young coachman, was finally induced to cement the friendship which had begun in switzerland by a wedding. this wedding, gillie often declared to susan, with much earnestness, was the "stunninest ewent that had ever occurred to him in his private capacity as a man." there is a proverb which asserts that "it never rains but it pours." this proverb was verified in the experience of the various personages of our tale, for soon after the tide of fortune had turned in their favour, the first showers of success swelled into absolute cataracts of prosperity. among other things, the gowrong mines suddenly went right. mrs stoutley's former man of business, mr temple, called one day, and informed her that her shares in that splendid undertaking had been purchased, on her behalf, by a friend who had faith in the ultimate success of the mines; that the friend forbade the mention of his name; and that he, mr temple, had called to pay her her dividends, and to congratulate her on her recovery of health and fortune. dr tough--who, when his services were no longer required, owing to the absence of illness, had continued his visits as a jovial friend--chanced to call at the same time with mr temple, and added his congratulations to those of the man of business, observing, with enthusiasm, that the air of the swiss mountains, mixed in equal parts with that of the london diamond-fields, would cure any disease under the sun. his former patient heartily agreed with him, but said that the medicine in question was not a mere mixture but a chemical compound, containing an element higher than the mountains and deeper than the diamond-fields, without which the cure would certainly not have been effected. need we say that captain wopper stuck to mrs roby and the "new cabin" to the last? many and powerful efforts were made to induce him to bring his "mother" to dwell in kensington, but mrs roby flatly refused to move again under any suasion less powerful than that of a fire. the eldest of lewis stoutley's boys therefore hit on a plan for frequent and easy inter-communication. he one day suggested the idea of a boating-club to his brothers and companions. the proposal was received with wild enthusiasm. the club was established, and a boathouse, with all its nautical appurtenances, was built under the very shadow of mrs roby's dwelling. a trusty "diamond" from grubb's court was made boat-cleaner and repairer and guardian of the keys, and captain wopper was created superintendent general director, chairman, honorary member, and perpetual grand master of the club, in which varied offices he continued to give unlimited satisfaction to the end of his days. as for slingsby, he became an aspirant to the honours of the royal academy, and even dreamt of the president's chair! not being a madman, he recovered from the disease of blighted hopes, and discovered that there were other beings as well as nita worth living for! he also became an intimate and welcome visitor at the two kensington mansions, the walls of which were largely decorated with his productions. whether he succeeded in life to the full extent of his hopes we cannot say, but we have good reason to believe that he did not entirely fail. from time to time lewis heard of his old guide antoine grennon from friends who at various periods paid a visit to the glaciers of switzerland, and more than once, in after years, he and his family were led by that prince of guides over the old romantic and familiar ground, where things were not so much given to change as in other regions; where the ice-rivers flowed with the same aspects, the same frozen currents, eddies, and cataracts as in days gone by; where the elderly guides were replaced by youthful guides of the same type and metal--ready to breast the mountain slopes and scale the highest peaks at a moment's notice; and where antoine's cottage stood unchanged, with a pretty and rather stout young woman usually kneeling in a tub, engaged in the destruction of linen, and a pretty little girl, who called her "mother," busy with a miniature washing of her own. the only difference being that the child called antoine "grandfather," and appeared to regard a strapping youth who dwelt there as her sire, and a remarkably stout but handsome middle-aged woman as her grandmother. last, but not least, the professor claims a parting word. little, however, is known as to the future career of the genial man of science, one of whose chief characteristics was his reverent recognition of god in conversing about his works. after returning to his home in the cold north he corresponded for some years with dr lawrence, and never failed to express his warmest regard for the friends with whom he had the good fortune to meet while in switzerland. he was particularly emphatic--we might almost say enthusiastic--in his expressions of regard for captain wopper, expressions and sentiments which the bold mariner heartily reciprocated, and he often stated to mrs roby, over an afternoon cup of tea, his conviction that that roosian professor was out o' sight one of the best fellows he had ever met with, and that the remembrance of him warmed his heart to furriners in general and roosians in particular. this remark usually had the effect of inducing mrs roby to ask some question about his, the captain's, intercourse with the professor, which question invariably opened the flood-gates of the captain's memory, and drew from him prolonged and innumerable "yarns" about his visit to the continent--yarns which are too long to be set down here, for the captain never tired of relating, and old mrs roby never wearied of listening, to his memorable rambles on the snow-capped mountains, and his strange adventures among the--rivers of ice. the end. generously made available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/mountrainierreco meanuoft transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). subscripts in chemical formulas are indicated by an underscore followed by the subscripted number enclosed by curly brackets (example: sio_{ } is the formula for silicon dioxide). in chapter xii we were unable to resolve a discrepancy between h. h. mcalister and e. h. mcalister, so both were retained. mount rainier * * * * * [illustration] the macmillan company new york · boston · chicago · dallas atlanta · san francisco macmillan & co., limited london · bombay · calcutta melbourne the macmillan co. of canada, ltd. toronto * * * * * [illustration: first picture of mount rainer. drawn by w. alexander from a sketch by j. sykes, . engraved by j. landseer for vancouver's journal.] mount rainier a record of exploration edited by edmond s. meany professor of history in the university of washington. president of the mountaineers. author of "vancouver's discovery of puget sound," "history of the state of washington," etc. new york the macmillan company all rights reserved copyright, , by the macmillan company. set up and electrotyped. published november, . norwood press j. s. cushing co.--berwick & smith co. norwood, mass., u.s.a. to general hazard stevens early lover of the mountain, this book is affectionately dedicated preface mount rainier national park is visited annually by increasing thousands of tourists. many of them seek information about the discoveries and explorations of the mountain and its environs. much of the information sought, especially that about the origin of place names, has never been published. the annals of discovery and exploration, which have been published, have often appeared in books, pamphlets, or periodicals not easily accessible. it is the purpose of this work to gather the essential portions of the desired information within a compact, usable form. during the summer of , the mountain was for the first time encircled by a large company of travelers. small parties, carrying their luggage and provisions on their backs, had made the trip a number of times. the mountaineers club, in , conducted a party of one hundred, with fully equipped pack train and commissary, around the mountain. they camped each evening at or near the snow-line. at the daily campfires extracts were read from the original sources of the mountain's history. the interest there manifested in such records gave additional impulse to the preparation of this book. it is natural that the chronological order should be chosen in arranging the materials, beginning with the discovery and naming of the mountain by captain george vancouver of the british navy. the records are then continued to the present time. there still remains to be done much scientific work on the glaciers, snowfields, rocks, and plants within the park. it is hoped that this book may stimulate such field work as well as the publication of the results. the reader will notice that several writers in referring to the mountain use some form of the name tacoma. the editor has not hesitated to publish such names as were used in the original articles here reproduced. in all other cases he has used the name mount rainier, approved by the united states geographic board. in the separate chapters it will be noticed that the height of the mountain has been placed at varying figures. the united states geological survey has spoken on this subject with apparent official finality, giving the altitude as , feet above sea level. how this height was determined is told in the official announcement reproduced in chapter xviii of the text, with comment thereon by f. e. matthes, one of the engineers of the united states geological survey. the place names within the park have been derived from such varied sources that it is well-nigh impossible to ascertain the origin and meaning of all of them. for the first time they are here (chapter xix) gathered into a complete alphabetical arrangement with as full information as is now available. the writer would welcome further facts about any of the names. in the introductory paragraphs before each chapter, the editor has sought to express his acknowledgment for assistance rendered by others in the compilation of the work. for fear some may have been omitted he wishes here to express gratitude for all such help and to mention especially professor j. franklin jameson, director of the department of historical research of the carnegie institution of washington, for his assistance in securing photostat reproductions of a number of rare items found in the library of congress. the editor also acknowledges the assistance rendered by victor j. farrar, research assistant in the university of washington. edmond s. meany. university of washington, seattle, august, . contents chapter page i. the mountain discovered and named, by captain george vancouver, r.n. ii. first approach to the mountain, by doctor william fraser tolmie. iii. first recorded trip through naches pass, by lieutenant robert e. johnson, u.s.n., of the wilkes expedition. iv. tacoma and the indian legend of hamitchou by theodore winthrop. v. first attempted ascent, by lieutenant a. v. kautz, u.s.a. vi. first successful ascent, by general hazard stevens. vii. indian warning against demons by sluiskin, indian guide. viii. second successful ascent, by s. f. emmons. ix. explorations on the northern slopes, - by bailey willis. x. discovery of camp muir, by major e. s. ingraham. xi. exploring the mountain and its glaciers, by professor i. c. russell. xii. mcclure's achievement and tragic death, by herbert l. bruce and professor h. h. mcalister. xiii. field notes on mount rainier, by professor henry landes. xiv. glaciers of mount rainier by f. e. matthes. xv. the rocks of mount rainier by george otis smith. xvi. the flora of mount rainier by professor charles v. piper. xvii. creation of mount rainier national park memorial by scientific societies. xviii. mount rainier is , feet high by the united states geological survey. xix. place names and elevations in mount rainier national park list of illustrations first picture of mount rainier. drawn by w. alexander, from a sketch by j. sykes, . engraved by j. landseer for vancouver's journal _frontispiece_ page captain george vancouver, royal navy doctor william fraser tolmie commander charles wilkes, united states navy theodore winthrop, from the rowse crayon portrait. general august valentine kautz, united states army. general hazard stevens samuel franklin emmons bailey willis, from photograph taken in major edward sturgis ingraham professor israel cook russell professor edgar mcclure professor henry landes françois Émile matthes george otis smith professor charles vancouver piper peter rainier, admiral of the blue, royal navy mount rainier a record of explorations [illustration: captain george vancouver. royal navy.] i. the mountain discovered and named, by captain george vancouver, r.n. captain george vancouver, the great english navigator and explorer, lived but forty years, from to . he entered the british navy on the _resolution_ under captain james cook in and was with that even more famous explorer during his second and third voyages, from to . he was placed in command of the _discovery_ and _chatham_ in and sent to the northwest coast of america. on this voyage he discovered and named puget sound and many other geographic features on the western coast of america. the portions of his voyage of discovery to the north pacific ocean, giving the record of his discovery, naming, and exploration in the vicinity of mount rainier, are taken from volume ii of the second edition, published in london in , pages , , and - . [tuesday, may , .] the weather was serene and pleasant, and the country continued to exhibit, between us and the eastern snowy range, the same luxuriant appearance. at its northern extremity, mount baker bore by compass n. e.; the round snowy mountain, now forming its southern extremity, and which, after my friend rear admiral rainier, i distinguished by the name of mount rainier, bore n. [s.] e. [saturday, may , .] about noon, we passed an inlet on the larboard or eastern shore, which seemed to stretch far to the northward; but, as it was out of the line of our intended pursuit of keeping the continental shore on board, i continued our course up the main inlet, which now extended as far as, from the deck, the eye could reach, though, from the mast-head, intervening land appeared, beyond which another high round mountain covered with snow was discovered, apparently situated several leagues to the south of mount rainier, and bearing by compass s. e. this i considered as a further extension of the eastern snowy range; but the intermediate mountains, connecting it with mount rainier, were not sufficiently high to be seen at that distance. [saturday, may , .] towards noon we landed on a point on the eastern shore, whose latitude i observed to be ° ', round which we flattered ourselves we should find the inlet take an extensive eastwardly course. this conjecture was supported by the appearance of a very abrupt division in the snowy range of mountains immediately to the south of mount rainier, which was very conspicuous from the ship, and the main arm of the inlet appearing to stretch in that direction from the point we were then upon. we here dined, and although our repast was soon concluded, the delay was irksome, as we were excessively anxious to ascertain the truth, of which we were not long held in suspense. for having passed round the point, we found the inlet to terminate here in an extensive circular compact bay, whose waters washed the base of mount rainier, though its elevated summit was yet at a very considerable distance from the shore, with which it was connected by several ridges of hills rising towards it with gradual ascent and much regularity. the forest trees, and the several shades of verdure that covered the hills, gradually decreased in point of beauty, until they became invisible; when the perpetual clothing of snow commenced, which seemed to form a horizontal line from north to south along this range of rugged mountains, from whose summit mount rainier rose conspicuously, and seemed as much elevated above them as they were above the level of the sea; the whole producing a most grand, picturesque effect. the lower mountains, as they descended to the right and left, became gradually relieved of their frigid garment; and as they approached the fertile woodland region that binds the shores of this inlet in every direction, produced a pleasing variety. we now proceeded to the n. w. in which direction the inlet from hence extended, and afforded us some reason to believe that it communicated with that under the survey of our other party. this opinion was further corroborated by a few indians, who had in a very civil manner accompanied us some time, and who gave us to understand that in the north western direction this inlet was very wide and extensive; this they expressed before we quitted our dinner station, by opening their arms, and making other signs that we should be led a long way by pursuing that route; whereas, by bending their arm, or spreading out their hand, and pointing to the space contained in the curve of the arm, or between the fore-finger and thumb, that we should find our progress soon stopped in the direction which led towards mount rainier. the little respect which most indians bear to truth, and their readiness to assert what they think is most agreeable for the moment, or to answer their own particular wishes and inclinations, induced me to place little dependance on this information, although they could have no motive for deceiving us. about a dozen of these friendly people had attended at our dinner, one part of which was a venison pasty. two of them, expressing a desire to pass the line of separation drawn between us, were permitted to do so. they sat down by us, and ate of the bread, and fish that we gave them without the least hesitation; but on being offered some of the venison, though they saw us eat it with great relish, they could not be induced to taste it. they received it from us with great disgust, and presented it round to the rest of the party, by whom it underwent a very strict examination. their conduct on this occasion left no doubt in our minds that they believed it to be human flesh, an impression which it was highly expedient should be done away. to satisfy them that it was the flesh of the deer, we pointed to the skins of the animal they had about them. in reply to this they pointed to each other, and made signs that could not be misunderstood, that it was the flesh of human beings, and threw it down in the dirt, with gestures of great aversion and displeasure. at length we happily convinced them of their mistake by shewing them a haunch we had in the boat, by which means they were undeceived, and some of them ate of the remainder of the pye with a good appetite. this behavior, whilst in some measure tending to substantiate their knowledge or suspicions that such barbarities have existence, led us to conclude, that the character given of the natives of north-west america does not attach to every tribe. these people have been represented not only as accustomed inhumanly to devour the flesh of their conquered enemies; but also to keep certain servants, or rather slaves, of their own nation, for the sole purpose of making the principal part of the banquet, to satisfy the unnatural savage gluttony of the chiefs of this country, on their visits to each other. were such barbarities practiced once a month, as is stated, it would be natural to suppose these people, so inured, would not have shewn the least aversion to eating flesh of any description; on the contrary, it is not possible to conceive a greater degree of abhorrence than was manifested by these good people, until their minds were made perfectly easy that it was not human flesh we offered them to eat. this instance must necessarily exonerate at least this particular tribe from so barbarous a practice; and, as their affinity to the inhabitants of nootka, and of the sea-coast, to the south of that place, in their manners and customs, admits of little difference, it is but charitable to hope those also, on a more minute inquiry, may be found not altogether deserving such a character. they are not, however, free from the general failing attendant on a savage life. one of them having taken a knife and fork to imitate our manner of eating, found means to secrete them under his garment; but, on his being detected, gave up his plunder with the utmost good humour and unconcern. they accompanied us from three or four miserable huts, near the place where we had dined, for about four miles; during which time they exchanged the only things they had to dispose of, their bows, arrows, and spears, in the most fair and honest manner, for hawk's bells, buttons, beads, and such useless commodities. [illustration: doctor william fraser tolmie.] ii. first approach to the mountain, by doctor william fraser tolmie doctor william fraser tolmie was a medical officer in the service of the hudson's bay company. he was born at inverness, scotland, on february , , and died at victoria, british columbia, on december , . he was educated at glasgow, and when twenty years of age he joined the hudson's bay company. in , he was located at nisqually house, puget sound. it was then that he made his trip to the mountain. he later served at other posts in the pacific northwest, and was raised to the rank of chief factor in . he was then placed on the board of management of the great company. in he retired from the service. in he was married to jane, eldest daughter of chief factor john work. their descendants still live at victoria, british columbia. they, especially the son john w. tolmie, have compared this reproduction from doctor tolmie's diary with the original manuscript to insure accuracy. so far as is now known, this is the first record of a white man's close approach to mount rainier. it is pleasant to note that the new map of mount rainier national park, published by the united states geological survey, shows the peak he climbed and the creek flowing near it bearing the name of tolmie. august , . obtained mr. herron's consent to making a botanizing excursion to mt. rainier, for which he has allowed days. have engaged two horses from a chief living in that quarter, who came here tonight, and lachalet is to be my guide. told the indians i am going to mt. rainier to gather herbs of which to make medicine, part of which is to be sent to britain and part retained in case intermittent fever should visit us when i will prescribe for the indians. aug. . a tremendous thunder storm occurred last night, succeeded by torrents of rain. the thunder was very loud, and the lightening flashing completely enlightened my apartment. have been chatting with mr. herron about colonizing whidby's island, a project of which he is at present quite full--more anon. no horses have appeared. understand that the mountain is four days' journey distant--the first of which can only be performed on horseback. if they do not appear tomorrow i shall start with lachalet on foot. aug. . prairie miles n. of home. sunset. busy making arrangements for journey, and while thus occupied the guide arrived with horses. started about , mounted on a strong iron grey, my companions disposing of themselves on the other two horses, except one, who walked. we were in number. i have engaged lachalet for a blanket, and his nephew, lashima, for ammunition to accompany me and nuckalkut a poyalip (whom i took for a native of mt. rainier) with horses to be guide on the mountain after leaving the horse track, and quilniash, his relative, a very active, strong fellow, has volunteered to accompany me. the indians are all in great hopes of killing elk and chevriel, and lachalet has already been selling and promising the grease he is to get. it is in a great measure the expectation of finding game that urges them to undertake the journey. cantered slowly along the prairie and are now at the residence of nuckalkut's father, under the shade of a lofty pine, in a grassy amphitheatre, beautifully interspersed and surrounded with oaks, and through the gaps in the circle we see the broad plain extending southwards to nusqually. in a hollow immediately behind is a small lake whose surface is almost one sheet of waterlilies about to flower. have supped on sallal; and at dusk shall turn in. aug. . sandy beach of poyallipa river. slept ill last night, and as i dozed in the morning was aroused by a stroke across the thigh from a large decayed branch which fell from the pine overshadowing us. a drizzling rain fell during most of the night. got up about dawn, and finding thigh stiff and painful thought a stop put to the journey, but after moving about it felt easier. started about sunrise, i mounted on a spirited brown mare, the rest on passable animals, except nuckalkut, who bestrode a foal. made a northeasterly course through prairie. breakfasted at a small marsh on bread, sallal, dried cockels and a small piece of chevriel saved from the last night's repast of my companions (for i cannot call them attendants). the points of wood now became broader, and the intervening plain degenerated into prairions. stopped about p.m. at the abode of tekatat families, who met us rank and file at the door to shake hands. their sheds were made of bark resting on a horizontal pole, supported at each end by tripods, and showed an abundance of elk's flesh dried within. two kettles were filled with this, and, after smoking, my indians made a savage repast on the meat and bouillion, lachalet saying it was the indian custom to eat a great deal at once and afterwards abstain for a time; he, however, has twice eaten since. traded some dried meat for balls and rings, and mounting, rode off in the midst of a heavy shower. ascended and descended at different times several steep banks and passed through dense and tangled thickets, occasionally coming on a prairion. the soil throughout was of the same nature as that of nusqually. after descending a very steep bank came to the poyallip. lashima carried the baggage across on his head. rode to the opposite side through a rich alluvial plain, or miles in length and / to in breadth. it is covered with fern about feet high in some parts. passed through woods and crossed river several times. about p.m. dismounted and the horses and accoutrements were left in a wood at the river's brink. started now on foot for a house nuckalkut knew, and after traversing woods and twice crossing the torrents "on the unsteadfast footing" of a log, arrived at the house, which was a deserted one, and encamped on the dry part of river's bed, along which our course lies tomorrow. the poyallip flows rapidly and is about or yards broad. its banks are high and covered with lofty cedars and pines. the water is of a dirty white colour, being impregnated by white clay. lachalet has tonight been trying to persuade me from going to the snow on the mountain. aug. . slept well, and in the morning two salmon were caught, on which we are to breakfast before starting. after breakfast quillihaish stuck the gills and sound of the fish on a spit which stood before the fire, so that the next comer might know that salmon could be obtained there. have traveled nearly the whole day through a wood of cedar and pine, surface very uneven, and after ascending the bed of river a couple of miles are now encamped about ten yards from its margin in the wood. find myself very inferior to my companions in the power of enduring fatigue. their pace is a smart trot which soon obliges me to rest. the waters of the poyallip are still of the same colour. can see a short distance up two lofty hills covered with wood. evening cloudy and rainy. showery all day. sunday, sept. . bank of poyallip river. it has rained all night and is now, a.m., pouring down. are a good deal sheltered by the trees. my companions are all snoozing. shall presently arouse them and hold a council of war. the prospect is very discouraging. our provisions will be expended today and lachalet said he thought the river would be too high to be fordable in either direction. had dried meat boiled in a cedar bark kettle for breakfast. i got rigged out in green blanket without trousers, in indian style, and trudged on through the wood. afterwood exchanged blanket with lachalet for ouvrie's capot, which has been on almost every indian at nusqually. however, i found it more convenient than the blanket. our course lay up the river, which we crossed frequently. the bed is clayey in most parts. saw the sawbill duck once or twice riding down on a log and fired twice, unsuccessfully. have been flanked on both sides with high, pineclad hills for some time. a short distance above encampment snow can be seen. it having rained almost incessantly, have encamped under shelving bank which has been undermined by the river. immense stones, only held in situ by dried roots, form the roof, and the floor is very rugged. have supped on berries, which, when heated with stones in kettle, taste like lozenges. propose tomorrow to ascend one of the snowy peaks above. sept. . summit of a snowy peak immediately under rainier. passed a very uncomfortable night in our troglodytic mansion. ascended the river for miles to where it was shut in by amphitheatre of mountains and could be seen bounding over a lofty precipice above. ascended that which showed most snow. our track lay at first through a dense wood of pine, but we afterwards emerged into an exuberantly verdant gully, closed on each side by lofty precipices. followed fully to near the summit and found excellent berries in abundance. it contained very few alpine plants. afterwards came to a grassy mound, where the sight of several decayed trees induced us to encamp. after tea i set out with lachalet and nuckalkut for the summit, which was ankle deep with snow for / mile downwards. the summit terminated in abrupt precipice directed northwards and bearing n. e. from mt. rainier, the adjoining peak. the mists were at times very dense, but a puff of s. w. wind occasionally dispelled them. on the s. side of poyallip is a range of snow-dappled mountains, and they, as well as that on the n. side, terminate in mt. rainier, a short distance to e. collected a vasculum of plants at the snow, and having examined and packed them shall turn in. thermometer at base, deg., at summit of ascent, deg. sept. . woody islet on poyallip. it rained heavily during night, but about dawn the wind shifting to the n. e. dispersed the clouds and frost set in. lay shivering all night and roused my swarthy companions twice to rekindle the fire. at sunrise, accompanied by quilliliash, went to the summit and found the tempr. of the air deg. the snow was spangled and sparkled brightly in the bright sunshine. it was crisp and only yielded a couple of inches to the pressure of foot in walking. mt. rainier appeared surpassingly splendid and magnificent; it bore, from the peak on which i stood, s. s. e., and was separated from it only by a narrow glen, whose sides, however, were formed by inaccessible precipices. got all my bearings more correctly to-day, the atmosphere being clear and every object distinctly perceived. the river flows at first in a northerly direction from the mountain. the snow on the summit of the mountain adjoining rainier on western side of poyallip is continuous with that of latter, and thus the s. western aspect of rainier seemed the most accessible. by ascending the first mountain through a gully in its northern side, you reach the eternal snow of rainier, and for a long distance afterwards the ascent is very gradual, but then it becomes abrupt from the sugarloaf form assumed by the mountain. its eastern side is steep on its northern aspect; a few glaciers were seen on the conical portion; below that the mountain is composed of bare rock, apparently volcanic, which about yards in breadth reaches from the snow to the valley beneath and is bounded on each side by bold bluff crags scantily covered with stunted pines. its surface is generally smooth, but here and there raised into small points or knobs or arrowed with short and narrow longitudinal lines in which snow lay. from the snow on western border the poyallipa arose, and in its course down this rock slope was fenced into the eastward by a regular elevation of the rock in the form of a wall or dyke, which at the distance i viewed it at, seemed about four feet high and four hundred yards in length. two large pyramids of rock arose from the gentle acclivity at s. w. extremity of mountain, and around each the drifting snow had accumulated in large quantity, forming a basin apparently of great depth. here i also perceived, peeping from their snowy covering, two lines of dyke similar to that already mentioned. sept. . am tonight encamped on a small eminence near the commencement of prairie. had a tedious walk through the wood bordering poyallip, but accomplished it in much shorter time than formerly. evening fine. sept. . nusqually. reached tekatat camp in the forenoon and regaled on boiled elk and shallon. pushed on ahead with lachalet and quilliliash, and arrived here in the evening, where all is well. [illustration: commander charles wilkes. united states navy.] iii. first recorded trip through naches pass, by lieutenant robert e. johnson, u.s.n. the proper and official title of the united states exploring expedition, - , by common speech has been contracted to the wilkes expedition. the commander of the expedition was charles wilkes, who entered the united states navy as a midshipman on january , . on july , , he was promoted to rear-admiral on the retired list. he was born at new york city on april , , and died at washington city on february , . he was honored in europe and america for his scientific attainments, especially in connection with the expedition that now bears his name. that voyage with a squadron of american naval vessels was for the purpose of increasing the world's knowledge of geography and kindred sciences. they reached puget sound in and, while making headquarters at nisqually house of the hudson's bay company, commander wilkes sent lieutenant robert e. johnson in command of a party to cross the cascade range. search in the navy department revealed only scant information that lieutenant johnson was from north carolina. the historical commission of that state and others there have failed to find information about his subsequent career. since he speaks of obtaining a guide, it is likely that he was not the first white man to cross the cascades, but he was the first to leave us a known record. the portions of that record which bear upon mount rainier and its environs is here reproduced. commander wilkes, before giving the record of his subordinate, makes reference to the peak as follows: "the height of mount rainier was obtained by measuring a base line on the prairies, in which operation i was assisted by lieutenant case, and the triangulation gave its height, twelve thousand three hundred and thirty feet." (narrative, volume iv., page .) the final reports of the expedition were to appear in twenty-four large volumes and eleven atlases. several of the volumes were never published, and of those completed only one hundred sets were printed. the rare monographs were full of information. the first part or "narrative" in five volumes was issued in several editions. the portions here reproduced are taken from the edition by lea and blanchard, philadelphia, , volume iv., pages - and - . i have before stated that lieutenant johnson's party was ready for departure on the th may [ ]; that it consisted of lieutenant johnson, messrs. pickering, waldron, and brackenridge, a sergeant of marines, and a servant. i must do justice to the exertions of this officer in getting ready for his journey, which he accomplished in less time than i anticipated, as the delays incident to setting out on a novel expedition, and one believed by most persons to be scarcely practicable in the summer season, are great and tantalizing. in making preparations for such a journey, the indians were to be bargained with, and, as i have before had occasion to remark, are enough to tire the patience of job himself. first, the indian himself is to be sought out; then the horse is to be tried; next the price is to be discussed, then the mode of payment, and finally the potlatch: each and all are matters of grave consideration and delay, during which the indians make a business of watching every circumstance of which they can take advantage. no one can be sure of closing his bargain, until the terms are duly arranged, the potlatch given, and the horse delivered. after obtaining horses, lieutenant johnson had the saddles, alforcas, saddle-cloths, saddle-trees or pack-saddles, etc., with a variety of lashings, to prepare. for many of these we were indebted to the kindness of captain m'niel and mr. anderson.[ ] others were made on board the ship, after a pattern lent us. one of the most important persons to obtain was a good guide, and hearing of one who resided at the cowlitz river, by the name of pierre charles,[ ] he was at once sent for; but i did not think it worth while to detain the party until his arrival, as he could easily overtake it. lieutenant johnson, therefore, was directed to hurry his departure, and to set out, which he did on the th may, at noon, and proceeded to the prairie about two miles distant, where the party encamped. there is little danger on these expeditions of having too few articles: the great difficulty is to avoid having too many. it turned out as i had anticipated. the first night passed in their tent fully satisfied them of this, and taught them to dispense with all other bedding save blankets. mr. anderson rode to the encampment before night, bringing the news of the arrival of pierre charles at the fort; whereupon lieutenant johnson returned to make an agreement with him and his companion. this was done, although, as is to be supposed, their demands were exorbitant, in consequence of the belief that their services were indispensable. pierre charles's companion was a young man, named peter bercier, (a connexion of plomondon)[ ] who spoke english, and all the languages of the country. on the morning of the th, they obtained an accession to their horses, and set out on their route towards the mountains. although the possibility of crossing them was doubted, yet i felt satisfied if exertion and perseverance could effect the object, the officer who had charge of the party would succeed. this day, they made but five miles; after which they encamped, at the recommendation of pierre charles, in order that the horses might not be over-fatigued, and be able to get good pasture and water. here a number of natives visited the camp. pine trees were in large numbers, many of them upwards of one hundred and thirty feet in height. on the banks of a small stream, near their camp, were found the yellow ranunculus, a species of trillium, in thickets, with large leaves and small flowers, lupines, and some specimens of a cruciferous plant. on the st they made an early start, and in the forenoon crossed the puyallup, a stream about seventy feet wide; along which is a fine meadow of some extent, with clumps of alder and willow: the soil was of a black turfy nature. after leaving the meadow-land, they began to ascend along a path that was scarcely visible from being overgrown with gaultheria, hazel, spiræa, vaccinium, and cornus. during the day, they crossed the stehna.[ ] in the evening, after making sixteen miles, they encamped at the junction of the puyallup with the upthascap.[ ] near by was a hut, built of the planks of the arbor vitæ (thuja), which was remarkably well made; and the boards used in its structure, although split, had all the appearance of being sawn: many of them were three feet wide, and about fifteen feet long. the hut was perfectly water-tight. its only inhabitants were two miserable old indians and two boys, who were waiting here for the arrival of those employed in the salmon-fishery. the rivers were beginning to swell to an unusual size, owing to the melting of the snows in the mountains; and in order to cross the streams, it became necessary to cut down large trees, over which the packs were carried, while the horses swam over. these were not the only difficulties they had to encounter: the path was to be cut for miles through thickets of brushwood and fallen timber; steep precipices were to be ascended, with slippery sides and entangled with roots of every variety of shape and size, in which the horses' legs would become entangled, and before reaching the top be precipitated, loads and all, to the bottom. the horses would at times become jammed with their packs between trees, and were not to be disengaged without great toil, trouble, and damage to their burdens. in some cases, after succeeding in getting nearly to the top of a hill thirty or forty feet high, they would become exhausted and fall over backwards, making two or three somersets, until they reached the bottom, when their loads were again to be arranged. on the d, their route lay along the banks of the upthascap,[ ] which is a much wider stream than the puyallup. a short distance up, they came to a fish-weir, constructed as the one heretofore described, on the chickeeles,[ ] though much smaller. this part of the country abounds with arbor-vitæ trees, some of which were found to be thirty feet in circumference at the height of four feet from the ground, and upwards of one hundred feet high. notwithstanding the many difficulties encountered, they this day made about twelve miles. on the morning of the d, just as they were about to leave their camp, their men brought in a deer, which was soon skinned and packed away on the horses. this was the first large game they had obtained, having previously got only a few grouse. they had now reached the smalocho,[ ] which runs to the westward, and is sixty-five feet wide: its depth was found to be four and a half feet, which, as it was also rapid, was too great for the horses to ford and carry their loads. the indians now became serviceable to them. lieutenant johnson had engaged several that were met on their way, and they now amounted to thirteen, who appeared for a time lively and contented. this, however, was but a forerunner of discontent, and a refusal to go any farther; but with coaxing and threatening they were induced to proceed. the road or way, after passing the river, was over a succession of deep valleys and hills, so steep that it was difficult for a horse to get up and over them with a load, and the fall of a horse became a common occurrence. they were all, however, recovered without injury, although one of them fell upwards of one hundred feet; yet in consequence of his fall having been repeatedly broken by the shrubs and trees, he reached the bottom without injury to himself, but with the loss of his load, consisting of their camp utensils, &c., which were swept off by the rapid current of the river. the route lay, for several days, through forests of spruce, and some of the trees that had fallen measured two hundred and sixty-five feet in length. one of these, at the height of ten feet from the roots, measured thirty-five feet in circumference, and at the end which had been broken off in its fall, it was found to be eighteen inches in diameter, which would make the tree little short of three hundred feet when it was growing. the stems of all these trees were clear of branches to the height of one hundred and fifty feet from the ground, and perfectly straight. in many cases it was impossible to see over the fallen trees, even when on horseback, and on these, seedlings were growing luxuriantly, forcing their roots through the bark and over the body of the trunk till they reached the ground. many spruces were seen which had grown in this way; and these, though of considerable size, still retained the form of an arch, showing where the old tree had lain, and under which they occasionally rode. as may be supposed, they could not advance very rapidly over such ground, and lieutenant johnson remarks, that although he was frequently desirous of shortening the road, by taking what seemed a more direct course, he invariably found himself obliged to return to the indian trail. daylight of the th brought with it its troubles: it was found that the horses had strayed,--a disaster that the indians took quite coolly, hoping it would be the cause of their return. after a diligent search, the horses were found in places where they had sought better food, although it was scanty enough even there. during the day, the route led along the smalocho,[ ] which runs nearly east and west; and they only left its banks when they were obliged to do so by various impassable barriers. this part of the country is composed of conical hills, which are all thickly clothed with pine trees of gigantic dimensions. they made nine miles this day, without accident; but when they encamped, they had no food for the horses except fern. the animals, in consequence, seemed much overcome, as did also the indians, who had travelled the whole day with heavy loads. lieutenant johnson, by way of diverting the fatigue of the latter, got up a shooting-match for a knife, the excitement of which had the desired effect. the trees hereabout were chiefly the cotton-wood, maple, spruce, pine, and elder, and some undergrowth of raspberry, the young shoots of which the natives eat with great relish. on the th, they set out at an early hour, and found the travelling less rough, so that they reached the foot of la tête[ ] before noon, having accomplished eleven miles. lieutenant johnson with the sergeant ascended la tête, obtained the bearings, from its summit, of all the objects around, and made its height by barometer, two thousand seven hundred and ninety-eight feet: its latitude was fixed at ° ' '' n. this mountain was entirely destitute of wood; but, having been burnt over, was found strewn with huge charred trunks, and the whole ground covered with ashes. the inclination of its sides was about fifty degrees. the country around seemed one continued series of hills, and like la tête had suffered from the fire. according to the natives, although the wood on the mountains was destroyed many years since, yet it was still observed to be on fire, in some places, about two years ago. most of the tops of the distant peaks had snow on them. to the east was seen the appearance of two valleys, through which the two branches of the smalocho[ ] flow. on descending from la tête, the river was to be crossed: this was found too deep to be forded, and it consequently became necessary to form a bridge to transport the baggage, by cutting down trees. the current was found to run · miles per hour. they had been in hopes of reaching the little prairie before night, but in consequence of this delay, were forced to encamp before arriving there. the indians complained much of the want of food: many of the horses also were exhausted for the same cause, and exhibited their scanty nourishment in their emaciated appearance. on the th, they reached the little prairie at an early hour, where, after consultation, it was determined to wait a day to recruit the horses, as this was the only place they could obtain food. it was also desirable to ascertain the practicability of passing the mountain with the horses, and at the same time to carry forward some of the loads, that the horses might have as little as possible to transport. mr. waldron and pierre charles were therefore sent forward with the indians, having loads of fifty pounds each, to ascend the mountain, while lieutenant johnson remained with the camp to get observations. dr. pickering and mr. brackenridge accompanied the party of mr. waldron to the snow-line. the prairie on which they had encamped was about two and a half acres in extent, and another of the same size was found half a mile farther east. the th was employed by lieutenant johnson in determining the positions of this prairie, which proved to be in latitude ° ' '' n., and longitude ° ' w.[ ] the variation was ° ' easterly. at sunset, messengers arrived from mr. waldron, who had reached the summit at noon, and was to proceed down to the snow-line to encamp. the snow was found to be about ten feet deep, and the party crossing sank about ankle-deep, for which reason opinions varied as to the possibility of getting the horses over; but it was determined to make the trial. lieutenant johnson, therefore, set out, leaving a supply of food with an old indian and a horse, both of whom were worn out, and unable to proceed. by eleven o'clock, they were met by pierre charles and the indians, who gave some slight hopes of accomplishing the task of getting all over. lieutenant johnson determined to take only the strongest horses to the edge of the snow. at half-past p.m., they reached the best practicable encampment, being a mile beyond the place where mr. waldron had encamped two days before. the snow having melted so rapidly, lieutenant johnson, taking all things into consideration, determined, notwithstanding the forebodings of failure held out by the party that had gone before, to make the attempt. it now became necessary to push on with as much haste as possible, on account of the state of their provisions; for what with the loss sustained in fording the river, and in consumption, they were obliged to adopt an allowance. on the th, they departed, at early dawn, in order to take advantage of the firmness of the snow, occasioned by the last night's frost. they ascended rapidly, and passed over the worst of the way, the horses sinking no deeper than their fetlocks. they first passed over a narrow ridge, and then a succession of small cones, until they reached the summit. mount rainier, from the top, bore south-southwest, apparently not more than ten miles distant. a profile of the mountain indicates that it has a terminal crater, as well as some on its flanks. the barometer stood at · in.: five thousand and ninety-two feet. there was another, to the north-northeast, covered with snow, and one to the west appeared about two hundred feet higher than the place where the observations were taken. this latter had suffered from fire in the same way as la tête, and showed only a few patches of snow. to the eastward, a range of inferior height, running north and south, was in view, without snow. on the western ascent of this mountain, the pines were scrubby; but at the summit, which was a plain, about a mile in length by half a mile wide, they were straight and towering, about eighty feet in height, without any limbs or foliage, except at the top. the distance travelled over the top was about five miles. on descending the east side, the snow was much deeper and softer, but the horses managed to get along well, and without accident. lieutenant johnson, in following the party, missed the trail, and lost his way for three or four hours. on discovering the camp of those who had gone before, on the opposite side of a stream, he attempted to cross it on a log, in doing which his foot slipped, and he was precipitated into the water. although his first thought was to save the chronometer from accident, it was too late, for the watch had stopped; it was not, however, so far injured as not to be set a-going, and it continued to go during the remainder of the journey: the only use i have been able to make of his subsequent observations, was to obtain the relative meridian distances between the points visited, without the absolute longitude. it is needless to say, that i placed little or no dependence on them, in constructing the map. although the horses had, with one or two exceptions, reached the eastern side of the mountain, yet they, together with the indians, were very much exhausted. the time had now come when the indians, according to agreement, were to be paid off, and they had done much more than they agreed to do, having crossed the mountain twice. finding the necessity of retaining all the blankets that had been brought with them, in order to buy horses, lieutenant johnson proposed to the indians to receive an order on nisqually, in lieu of the immediate delivery of the blankets. this they readily assented to, and also willingly gave up those that had already been paid them, on receiving a similar order,--thus showing a spirit of accommodation highly praiseworthy. only two of them returned to nisqually, to whom were entrusted the botanical specimens, and the care of the horses left upon the road. the banks of the small streams on the eastern side of the mountain were bordered with the greatest variety of trees and shrubs, consisting of poplars, buckthorn fifty feet high, dogwood thirty to forty feet high, several species of willow, alder, two species of maple, and occasionally a yew. the undergrowth was composed of hazel, vaccinium, gaultheria, and a prickly species of aralia. the herbaceous shrubs were goodyera, neottia, viola, claytonia, corallorrhiza. the latter, however, were not in flower. the party on foot, after leaving the little prairie about half a mile, crossed the northern branch of the smalocho,[ ] which was found much swollen and very rapid. two trees were cut down to form a bridge. after this, the walking through the forest became smooth and firm, and they passed on at a rapid pace. the indians, although loaded with ninety pounds of baggage, kept up with the rest. at nightfall they encamped at the margin of the snow. on lighting their fires, they accidentally set fire to the moss-covered trees, and in a few moments all around them was a blazing mass of flame, which compelled them to change their quarters farther to windward. they had made eighteen miles. but few plants were found, the season being too early for collecting at so high an elevation. the ground was covered with spruce-twigs, which had apparently been broken off by the weight of the snow. the summit was passed through an open space about twenty acres in extent. this glade was surrounded with a dense forest of spruce trees. there was no danger in walking except near the young trees, which had been bent down by the snow, but on passing these they often broke through, and experienced much difficulty in extricating themselves, particularly the poor indians, with their heavy burdens. the breadth of snow passed over was about eight miles. at three o'clock they reached the spipen[ ] river, where they encamped: this camp was found to be two thousand five hundred and forty-one feet above the level of the sea. the vegetation appeared to our botanical gentlemen farther advanced on the east side than on the west, at the same height; the pulmonarias and several small annuals were more forward. there were only a few pine trees, and those small, seen on the west side of the ridge; and on the east side, there was a species of larch, the hackmatack of the country. while they remained at this camp, they found a pyrola, and some new ferns. the country about the spipen[ ] is mountainous and woody, with a narrow strip of meadow-land along its banks. mr. waldron had, on arriving at the camp, sent lachemere, one of the indians, down the river to an indian chief, in order to procure horses. those that remained after providing for the baggage, were consequently assigned each to two or three individuals to ride and tye on their route. on the th, they proceeded down the spipen, making a journey of eighteen miles, and passed another branch of the river, the junction of which augmented its size very considerably. its banks, too, became perpendicular and rocky, with a current flowing between them at the rate of six or seven miles an hour. after the junction, the stream was about one hundred feet broad, and its course was east-southeast. the vegetation on the east side of the mountains was decidedly more advanced than that to the west, and several very interesting species of plants were met with by the botanists, on the banks of the streams: among them were pæonia brownii, cypripedium oregonium, pentstemon, ipomopsis elegans, and several compositæ, and a very handsome flowering shrub, purshia tridentata. on the st, they continued their route over a rough country, in some places almost impassable for a horse from its steepness, and in others so marshy as to require much caution to prevent being mired. during the morning, they met two indians, who informed them that the chief of the yakima tribe was a short distance in advance, waiting to meet them, and that he had several horses. at noon they reached a small prairie on the banks of the river, where old tidias, the chief, was seen seated in state to receive lieutenant johnson; but this ceremony was unavoidably broken in upon by the necessity of getting the meridian observations. the chief, however, advanced towards him with every mark of friendship, giving the party a hearty welcome. in person he was tall, straight, and thin, a little bald, with long black hair hanging down his back, carefully tied with a worsted rag. he was grave, but dignified and graceful. when they had been seated, and after smoking a couple of pipes in silence, he intimated that he was ready for a talk, which then followed, relative to the rivers and face of the country; but little information was obtained that could be depended upon. this tribe subsist chiefly upon salmon and the cammass-root: game is very scarce, and the beaver have all disappeared. the cammass-root is pounded and made into a sort of cake, which is not unpleasant, having a sweetish taste, but it is very dry, although some of the party took a fancy to it. tidias had with him an old man almost blind, who claimed much respect, and two young men, whose dress of buckskin, profusely ornamented with beads, was much admired by the party. during the talk, the old chief expressed himself delighted to see the white men, and spoke of his own importance, his immense territory, etc., in a style of boasting, to which the indians are very much addicted. he said that he was desirous of affording all the accommodation he could to the party. but although he had eight or ten fine horses with him, he would not agree to part with them, as they were all his favourites. he was presented with a variety of articles, in return for which he gave the party a few dried salmon. towards evening, old tidias took leave of them, saying that it was not proper for an indian to encamp in the same place with a white man, and with a promise that he would have horses by ten o'clock the next day; but he had a game to play by procrastinating, in which he thoroughly succeeded. in the morning they reached the indian camp below, but no horses had arrived. it was far, they said, to tidias's house; a man could not go thither and return in the same day; no horses or salmon could be brought; no one could be permitted to go. lieutenant johnson was then told that the road he had to follow was a "hungry" road. at last the indian was induced by high offers to exchange good horses for a great number of bad ones, and finally consented to part with two more. on quitting him they became thoroughly aware that all the difficulties were owing, not to any indisposition to sell, but were created for the purpose of inducing high prices to be given. the party now branched off at right angles to their former route, lieutenant johnson heartily sick and tired of his friend tidias and his people. two more of the indians here left them. the country they entered, after passing a ridge about six hundred feet high, was quite of a different aspect, forming long sloping hills, covered with a scanty growth of pines. many dry beds of rivulets were passed, and the soil of the hills produced nothing but a long thin grass. there are, however, some small valleys where the growth of grass is luxuriant, the pines are larger, and the scenery assumed a park-like appearance. from the summit of one of the hills, a sketch of mount rainier, and of the intervening range, was obtained. on the top of the ridge they fell in with a number of spipen indians, who were engaged in digging the cammass and other roots. the latter were those of an umbelliferous plant, oblong, tuberous, and in taste resembling a parsnip. the process used to prepare them for bread, is to bake them in a well-heated oven of stones; when they are taken out they are dried, and then pounded between two stones till the mass becomes as fine as corn meal, when it is kneaded into cakes and dried in the sun. these roots are the principal vegetable food of the indians throughout middle oregon. the women are frequently seen, to the number of twenty or thirty, with baskets suspended from the neck, and a pointed stick in their hand, digging these roots, and so intently engaged in the search for them, as to pay no attention whatever to a passer-by. when these roots are properly dried, they are stored away for the winter's consumption. this day they made only fifteen miles, in a northern direction. on the d of june, they reached the yakima, after having crossed a small stream. the yakima was too deep for the horses to ford with their packs, and they now for the first time used their balsas of india-rubber cloth, which were found to answer the purpose of floating the loads across the stream. this river is one hundred and fifty feet wide, and pursues an east-southeast course, with a velocity of more than four miles an hour. at this place were found twenty migrating indians, who have their permanent residence on the banks lower down. the chief, kamaiyah, was the son-in-law of old tidias, and one of the most handsome and perfectly-formed indians they had met with. he was found to be gruff and surly in his manners, which was thought to be owing to his wish to appear dignified. these indians were living in temporary huts, consisting of mats spread on poles. among them was seen quite a pretty girl, dressed in a shirt and trousers, with moccasins of skin very much ornamented with fringe and beads. they had a number of fine horses, but could not be induced to part with any of them. lieutenant johnson had now succeeded in purchasing venison and salmon, and the party again had full allowance. on the d, they continued their route to the northward, over gradually rising ground, and lieutenant johnson having succeeded in purchasing three more horses, only three of the party were now without them, so that the riding and tye system was not quite so often resorted to as before. on this plain was seen a number of curlews, some grouse, and a large species of hare. they encamped again near the snow, and found their altitude greater than any yet reached, the barometer standing at · in.: five thousand two hundred and three feet. they had again reached the spruces and lost the pine, which was only found on the hill-sides and plains. at a.m. on the morning of the th of june, the thermometer stood at °. they on that day continued their route up the mountain and across its summit, which was here and there covered with patches of snow. i regret to record another accident to the instruments. the sergeant, to whom the barometer was intrusted by lieutenant johnson, in putting up the instrument this morning, carelessly broke it; and thus ended the barometrical experiments in the most interesting portion of the route. it is difficult to account for the scarcity of snow on a much higher elevation than they had before reached, and under circumstances which would appear to have warranted a contrary expectation. dr. pickering was induced to believe that this change in the climate is owing to the open nature of the surrounding country; its being devoid of dense forests, with but a few scattered trees and no under-brush; and the vicinity to elevated plains, and the ridge being of a less broken character. the early part of the day was cold, with showers of sleet. on the crest of the mountain they passed over swampy ground, with but a few patches of spruces: after passing which, they began to descend very regularly towards the columbia, which they reached early in the afternoon, about three miles below the pischous river.[ ] the columbia at this place is a rapid stream, but the scenery differs entirely from that of other rivers: its banks are altogether devoid of any fertile alluvial flats; destitute even of scattered trees; there is no freshness in the little vegetation on its borders; the sterile sands in fact reach to its very brink, and it is scarcely to be believed until its banks are reached that a mighty river is rolling its waters past these arid wastes. [the record of the journey to fort colville is omitted, to be resumed when the party returning draws near the environs of mount rainier. the portion omitted extends from page to in the original publication.] the party now pursued the route up the river, and in two hours reached the yakima, up whose valley they passed, encamping after making twenty-five miles. the country was rolling, and might be termed sandy and barren. mount st. helen's,[ ] with its snow-capped top, was seen at a great distance to the west. on the th, they continued their route, and at midday were overtaken by an indian, with a note informing them of the arrival of mr. drayton at wallawalla with the brigade. this was quick travelling for news in oregon; for so slow is it usually carried, that our party were the first to bring the news of the arrival and operations of the squadron in oregon. this intelligence had not previously reached wallawalla, although it is considered to be on the direct post-route to the interior, notwithstanding we had been in the country nearly two months. the news of the murder of mr. black, in new caledonia, was nearly a year in reaching some points on the coast. this was one of the warmest days they had experienced, and the thermometer under the shade of a canopy stood at °. at a short distance from the place where they stopped was a small hut, composed of a few branches and reeds, which was thought to be barely sufficient to contain a sheep; yet under it were four generations of human beings, all females, seated in a posture, which, to whites, would have been impracticable. they had just procured their subsistence for the day, and their meal consisted of the berries of the dogwood. the scene was not calculated to impress one very favourably with savage life. the oldest of these had the cartilage of the nose pierced, but the others had not; leading to the conclusion that the practice had been discontinued for some years in the nation, who still, however, retain the name. the country exhibited little appearance of vegetation; the herbage was quite dried up, and from appearances was likely to continue so throughout the season. the prevailing vegetation consisted of bushes of wormwood, stinted in growth, and unyielding. after making thirty-three miles, they encamped among loose sand, one hundred feet above the water of the river. many rattlesnakes were found in this vicinity. owing to the quantities of mosquitoes, combined with the fear of snakes, the party obtained little or no rest, and were all glad to mount their horses and proceed on their way. in the early part of the day, they arrived at the junction of the spipen with the yakima: previous to this they crossed another branch, coming in from the southwest; the waters of the latter were very turbid, of a dark-brown colour, and it was conjectured that it had its source at or near mount rainier. along its banks was seen a range of basaltic columns. the yakima was crossed during the day in canoes, the river not being yet fordable. the country, which had for some days exhibited the appearance of the tillandsia districts of peru, had now begun to acquire a tinge of green, and some scattered pine trees had become visible. some small oaks were passed, which appeared of a local character. this night they again had a number of rattlesnakes in their camp. on the th, the valley had narrowed, and the banks becoming more perpendicular, they had a great many difficulties to encounter. they stopped at the camp of old tidias, whom, it will be recollected, they had encountered after crossing the mountains, and from whom they obtained some horses. they soon afterwards arrived at the path where they had turned off to the north. the river had fallen very much during their absence, and there was a marked difference in the season, the vegetation being much more backward than in the parts they had recently visited. the berries were just beginning to ripen, while in the plains, not twenty miles distant, they were already over. old tidias determined to accompany them to nisqually, taking with him his son, and lending them several horses. the spipen, up which they passed, was now hemmed in by mountain ridges, occasionally leaving small portions of level ground. they encamped at the place they had occupied on the th of may. the vegetation, since they had passed this place, had so much advanced that they had difficulty in recognising it again. the wet prairies were overgrown with rank grass, from one to two feet in height. after a short rest at the foot of the mountain, they began its ascent, and reached the crest of the ridge in about three hours. on every side they found a low growth of shrubs, which they had not suspected when it was covered with snow, and causing the summit to differ essentially from the broad ridge they had crossed between the yakima and pischous rivers. they encamped for the night on the edge of a wet prairie, which afforded pasturage for their horses. the next day they passed through several similar prairies, and descended the western slope of the mountain, where they found more patches of snow than on the east side. this was just the reverse of what they had found on their previous passage; the season, too, was evidently much less advanced. this circumstance was supposed to be owing to the denser forest on the west, as well as the absence of elevated plains. they encamped the same night at the little prairie before spoken of, at the foot of the western slope. before reaching it, they met a party of men and women carrying a sick chief over the mountain, who was evidently dying. it was affecting to see him stretching forth his hand to them as they passed, as if desiring to be friends with all before he died. he died the same night. the two next days it rained almost constantly, but they found the road much less difficult to travel than before, and the streams were fordable, which enabled them to make more rapid progress. on the th, they passed the smalocho, and on the th reached nisqually, all well; having performed a journey of about one thousand miles without any material accident, except those that have been related as having occurred to the instruments. they traversed a route which white men had never before taken, thus enabling us to become acquainted with a portion of the country about which all had before been conjecture. they had also made a large addition to our collection of plants. [illustration: theodore winthrop. from the rowse crayon portrait.] iv. tacoma and the indian legend of hamitchou by theodore winthrop theodore winthrop was a descendant of the famous governor john winthrop, of massachusetts. he was born at new haven, connecticut, on september , , and lost his life early in the civil war near great bethel, virginia, on june , . his death was deeply mourned as of one who had given great promise of success in the field of literature. his book, _the canoe and the saddle_, has appeared in many editions. it tells of his visit to puget sound and across the cascade mountains in . in that volume he declares that the indians called the mountain, tacoma. so far as is known to the editor, that is the first place that that name for the mountain appeared in print. in addition to this interesting fact, the book is a charming piece of literature, and will endure as one of the classics on the pacific northwest. the portions here reproduced relate to the mountain. they are taken from an early edition of the book published by the john w. lovell company of new york. the edition carries no date, but the copyright notice is by ticknor and fields, . the parts used are from pages - , and - . the author's niece, elizabeth winthrop johnson, of pasadena, california, kindly furnished a photograph of rowse's portrait of her famous uncle. the large and beautiful glacier sweeping from the northeast summit past the western slope of steamboat prow now bears the name of winthrop glacier. we had rounded a point, and opened puyallop bay, a breadth of sheltered calmness, when i, lifting sleepy eyelids for a dreamy stare about, was suddenly aware of a vast white shadow in the water. what cloud, piled massive on the horizon, could cast an image so sharp in outline, so full of vigorous detail of surface? no cloud, as my stare, no longer dreamy, presently discovered,--no cloud, but a cloud compeller. it was a giant mountain dome of snow, swelling and seeming to fill the aërial spheres as its image displaced the blue deeps of tranquil water. the smoky haze of an oregon august hid all the length of its lesser ridges, and left this mighty summit based upon uplifting dimness. only its splendid snows were visible, high in the unearthly regions of clear blue noonday sky. the shore line drew a cincture of pines across the broad base, where it faded unreal into the mist. the same dark girth separated the peak from its reflection, over which my canoe was now pressing, and sending wavering swells to shatter the beautiful vision before it. kingly and alone stood this majesty, without any visible comrade or consort, though far to the north and the south its brethren and sisters dominated their realms, each in isolated sovereignty, rising above the pine-darkened sierra of the cascade mountains,--above the stern chasm where the columbia, achilles of rivers, sweeps, short-lived and jubilant, to the sea,--above the lovely vales of the willamette and umpqua. of all the peaks from california to frazer's river, this one before me was royalest. mount regnier christians have dubbed it, in stupid nomenclature perpetuating the name of somebody or nobody. more melodiously the siwashes call it tacoma,--a generic term also applied to all snow peaks. whatever keen crests and crags there may be in its rock anatomy of basalt, snow covers softly with its bends and sweeping curves. tacoma, under its ermine, is a crushed volcanic dome, or an ancient volcano fallen in, and perhaps as yet not wholly lifeless. the domes of snow are stateliest. there may be more of feminine beauty in the cones, and more of masculine force and hardihood in the rough pyramids, but the great domes are calmer and more divine, and, even if they have failed to attain absolute dignified grace of finish, and are riven and broken down, they still demand our sympathy for giant power, if only partially victor. each form--the dome, the cone, and the pyramid--has its type among the great snow peaks of the cascades. [chapter vii, beginning at page of the original publication, is entitled "tacoma."] up and down go the fortunes of men, now benignant, now malignant. _ante meridiem_ of our lives, we are rising characters. our full noon comes, and we are borne with plaudits on the shoulders of a grateful populace. _post meridiem_, we are ostracized, if not more rudely mobbed. at twilight, we are perhaps recalled, and set on the throne of nestor. such slow changes in esteem are for men of some import and of settled character. loolowcan suffered under a more rapidly fluctuating public opinion. at the camp of the road-makers, he had passed through a period of neglect,--almost of ignominy. my hosts had prejudices against redskins; they treated the son of owhhigh with no consideration; and he became depressed and slinking in manner under the influence of their ostracism. no sooner had we disappeared from the range of boston eyes than loolowcan resumed his leadership and his control. i was very secondary now, and followed him humbly enough up the heights we had reached. here were all the old difficulties increased, because they were no longer met on a level. we were to climb the main ridge,--the mountain of la tête,--abandoning the valley, assaulting the summits. and here, as owhhigh had prophesied in his harangue at nisqually, the horse's mane must be firmly grasped by the climber. poor, panting, weary nags! may it be true, the promise of loolowcan, that not far away is abundant fodder! but where can aught, save firs with ostrich digestion, grow on these rough, forest-clad shoulders? so i clambered on till near noon. i had been following thus for many hours the blind path, harsh, darksome, and utterly lonely, urging on with no outlook, encountering no landmark,--at last, as i stormed a ragged crest, gaining a height that overtopped the firs, and, halting there for panting moments, glanced to see if i had achieved mastery as well as position,--as i looked somewhat wearily and drearily across the solemn surges of forest, suddenly above their sombre green appeared tacoma. large and neighbor it stood, so near that every jewel of its snow-fields seemed to send me a separate ray; yet not so near but that i could with one look take in its whole image, from clear-cut edge to edge. all around it the dark evergreens rose like a ruff; above them the mountain splendors swelled statelier for the contrast. sunlight of noon was so refulgent upon the crown, and lay so thick and dazzling in nooks and chasms, that the eye sought repose of gentler lights, and found it in shadowed nooks and clefts, where, sunlight entering not, delicate mist, an emanation from the blue sky, had fallen, and lay sheltered and tremulous, a mild substitute for the stronger glory. the blue haze so wavered and trembled into sunlight, and sunbeams shot glimmering over snowy brinks so like a constant avalanche, that i might doubt whether this movement and waver and glimmer, this blending of mist with noontide flame, were not a drifting smoke and cloud of yellow sulphurous vapor floating over some slowly chilling crater far down in the red crevices. but if the giant fires had ever burned under that cold summit, they had long since gone out. the dome that swelled up passionately had crusted over and then fallen in upon itself, not vigorous enough with internal life to bear up in smooth proportion. where it broke into ruin was no doubt a desolate waste, stern, craggy, and riven, but such drear results of titanic convulsion the gentle snows hid from view. no foot of man had ever trampled those pure snows. it was a virginal mountain, distant from the possibility of human approach and human inquisitiveness as a marble goddess is from human love. yet there was nothing unsympathetic in its isolation, or despotic in its distant majesty. but this serene loftiness was no home for any deity of those that men create. only the thought of eternal peace arose from this heaven-upbearing monument like incense, and, overflowing, filled the world with deep and holy calm. wherever the mountain turned its cheek toward the sun, many fair and smiling dimples appeared, and along soft curves of snow, lines of shadow drew tracery fair as the blue veins on a child's temple. without the infinite sweetness and charm of this kindly changefulness of form and color, there might have been oppressive awe in the presence of this transcendent glory against the solemn blue of noon. grace played over the surface of majesty, as a drift of rose-leaves wavers in the air before a summer shower, or as a wreath of rosy mist flits before the grandeur of a storm. loveliness was sprinkled like a boon of blossoms upon sublimity. our lives forever demand and need visual images that can be symbols to us of the grandeur or the sweetness of repose. there are some faces that arise dreamy in our memories, and look us into calmness in our frantic moods. fair and happy is a life that need not call upon its vague memorial dreams for such attuning influence, but can turn to a present reality, and ask tranquillity at the shrine of a household goddess. the noble works of nature, and mountains most of all, "have power to make our noisy years seem moments in the being of the eternal silence." and, studying the light and the majesty of tacoma, there passed from it and entered into my being, to dwell there evermore by the side of many such, a thought and an image of solemn beauty, which i could thenceforth evoke whenever in the world i must have peace or die. for such emotion years of pilgrimage were worthily spent. if mortal can gain the thoughts of immortality, is not his earthly destiny achieved? for, when we have so studied the visible poem, and so fixed it deep in the very substance of our minds, there is forever with us not merely a perpetual possession of delight, but a watchful monitor that will not let our thoughts be long unfit for the pure companionship of beauty. for whenever a man is false to the light that is in him, and accepts meaner joys, or chooses the easy indulgence that meaner passions give, then every fair landscape in all his horizon dims, and all its grandeurs fade and dwindle away, the glory vanishes, and he looks, like one lost, upon his world, late so lovely and sinless. while i was studying tacoma, and learning its fine lesson, it in turn might contemplate its own image far away on the waters of whulge, where streams from its own snows, gushing seaward to buffet in the boundless deep, might rejoice in a last look at their parent ere they swept out of puyallop bay. other large privilege of view it had. it could see what i could not,--tacoma the less, mt. adams, meritorious but clumsy; it could reflect sunbeams gracefully across a breadth of forest to st. helen's, the vestal virgin, who still kept her flame kindled, and proved her watchfulness ever and anon. continuing its panoramic studies, tacoma could trace the chasm of the columbia by silver circles here and there,--could see every peak, chimney, or unopened vent, from kulshan to shasta butte. the blue mountains eastward were within its scope, and westward the faint-blue levels of the pacific. another region, worthy of any mountain's beholding, tacoma sees, somewhat vague and dim in distance: it sees the sweet arcadian valley of the willamette, charming with meadow, park, and grove. in no older world where men have, in all their happiest moods, recreated themselves for generations in taming earth to orderly beauty, have they achieved a fairer garden than nature's simple labor of love has made there, giving to rough pioneers the blessings and the possible education of refined and finished landscape, in the presence of landscape strong, savage, and majestic. all this tacoma beholds, as i can but briefly hint; and as one who is a seer himself becomes a tower of light and illumination to the world, so tacoma, so every brother seer of his among the lofty snow-peaks, stands to educate, by his inevitable presence, every dweller thereabouts. our race has never yet come into contact with great mountains as companions of daily life, nor felt that daily development of the finer and more comprehensive senses which these signal facts of nature compel. that is an influence of the future. the oregon people, in a climate where being is bliss,--where every breath is a draught of vivid life,--these oregon people, carrying to a new and grander new england of the west a fuller growth of the american idea, under whose teaching the man of lowest ambitions must still have some little indestructible respect for himself, and the brute of most tyrannical aspirations some little respect for others; carrying the civilization of history where it will not suffer by the example of europe,--with such material, that western society, when it crystallizes, will elaborate new systems of thought and life. it is unphilosophical to suppose that a strong race, developing under the best, largest, and calmest conditions of nature, will not achieve a destiny. up to tacoma, or into some such solitude of nature, imaginative men must go, as moses went up to sinai, that the divine afflatus may stir within them. the siwashes appreciate, according to their capacity, the inspiration of lonely grandeur, and go upon the mountains, starving and alone, that they may become seers, enchanters, magicians, diviners,--what in conventional lingo is called "big medicine." for though the indians here have not peopled these thrones of their world with the creatures of an anthropomorphic mythology, they yet deem them the abode of tamanoüs. tamanoüs is a vague and half-personified type of the unknown, of the mysterious forces of nature; and there is also an indefinite multitude of undefined emanations, each one a tamanoüs with a small t, which are busy and impish in complicating existence, or equally active and spritely in unravelling it. each indian of this region patronizes his own personal tamanoüs, as men of the more eastern tribes keep a private manitto, and as socrates kept a daimôn. to supply this want, tamanoüs with a big t undergoes an avatar, and incarnates himself into a salmon, a beaver, a clam, or into some inanimate object, such as a canoe, a paddle, a fir-tree, a flint, or into some elemental essence, as fire, water, sun, mist; and tamanoüs thus individualized becomes the "guide, philosopher, and friend" of every siwash, conscious that otherwise he might stray and be lost in the unknown realms of tamanoüs. hamitchou, a frowzy ancient of the squallyamish, told to dr. tolmie and me, at nisqually, a legend of tamanoüs and tacoma, which, being interpreted, runs as follows:-- hamitchou's legend "avarice, o boston tyee," quoth hamitchou, studying me with dusky eyes, "is a mighty passion. now, be it known unto thee that we indians anciently used not metals nor the money of you blanketeers. our circulating medium was shells,--wampum you would name it. of all wampum, the most precious is hiaqua. hiaqua comes from the far north. it is a small, perforated shell, not unlike a very opaque quill toothpick, tapering from the middle, and cut square at both ends. we string it in many strands, and hang it around the neck of one we love,--namely, each man his own neck. we also buy with it what our hearts desire. he who has most hiaqua is best and wisest and happiest of all the northern haida and of all the people of whulge. the mountain horsemen value it; and braves of the terrible blackfeet have been known, in the good old days, to come over and offer a horse or a wife for a bunch of fifty hiaqua. "now, once upon a time there dwelt where this fort of nisqually now stands a wise old man of the squallyamish. he was a great fisherman and a great hunter; and the wiser he grew, much the wiser he thought himself. when he had grown very wise, he used to stay apart from every other siwash. companionable salmon-boilings round a common pot had no charms for him. 'feasting was wasteful,' he said, 'and revellers would come to want.' and when they verified his prophecy, and were full of hunger and empty of salmon, he came out of his hermitage, and had salmon to sell. "hiaqua was the pay he always demanded; and as he was a very wise old man, and knew all the tide-ways of whulge, and all the enticing ripples and placid spots of repose in every river where fish might dash or delay, he was sure to have salmon when others wanted, and thus bagged largely of its precious equivalent, hiaqua. "not only a mighty fisher was the sage, but a mighty hunter, and elk, the greatest animal of the woods, was the game he loved. well had he studied every trail where elk leave the print of their hoofs, and where, tossing their heads, they bend the tender twigs. well had he searched through the broad forest, and found the long-haired prairies where elk feed luxuriously; and there, from behind palisade fir-trees, he had launched the fatal arrow. sometimes, also, he lay beside a pool of sweetest water, revealed to him by gemmy reflections of sunshine gleaming through the woods, until at noon the elk came down, to find death awaiting him as he stooped and drank. or beside the same fountain the old man watched at night, drowsily starting at every crackling branch, until, when the moon was high, and her illumination declared the pearly water, elk dashed forth incautious into the glade, and met their midnight destiny. "elk-meat, too, he sold to his tribe. this brought him pelf, but, alas for his greed, the pelf came slowly. waters and woods were rich in game. all the squallyamish were hunters and fishers, though none so skilled as he. they were rarely in absolute want, and, when they came to him for supplies, they were far too poor in hiaqua. "so the old man thought deeply, and communed with his wisdom, and, while he waited for fish or beast, he took advice within himself from his demon,--he talked with tamanoüs. and always the question was, 'how may i put hiaqua in my purse?' "tamanoüs never revealed to him that far to the north, beyond the waters of whulge, are tribes with their under lip pierced with a fishbone, among whom hiaqua is plenty as salmonberries are in the woods what time in mid-summer salmon fin it along the reaches of whulge. "but the more tamanoüs did not reveal to him these mysteries of nature, the more he kept dreamily prying into his own mind, endeavoring to devise some scheme by which he might discover a treasure-trove of the beloved shell. his life seemed wasted in the patient, frugal industry, which only brought slow, meagre gains. he wanted the splendid elation of vast wealth and the excitement of sudden wealth. his own peculiar tamanoüs was the elk. elk was also his totem, the cognizance of his freemasonry with those of his own family, and their family friends in other tribes. elk, therefore, were every way identified with his life; and he hunted them farther and farther up through the forests on the flanks of tacoma, hoping that some day his tamanoüs would speak in the dying groan of one of them, and gasp out the secret of the mines of hiaqua, his heart's desire. "tacoma was so white and glittering, that it seemed to stare at him very terribly and mockingly, and to know his shameful avarice, and how it led him to take from starving women their cherished lip and nose jewels of hiaqua, and to give them in return only tough scraps of dried elk-meat and salmon. when men are shabby, mean, and grasping, they feel reproached for their grovelling lives by the unearthliness of nature's beautiful objects, and they hate flowers, and sunsets, mountains, and the quiet stars of heaven. "nevertheless," continued hamitchou, "this wise old fool of my legend went on stalking elk along the sides of tacoma, ever dreaming of wealth. and at last, as he was hunting near the snows one day, one very clear and beautiful day of late summer, when sunlight was magically disclosing far distances, and making all nature supernaturally visible and proximate, tamanoüs began to work in the soul of the miser. "'are you brave,' whispered tamanoüs in the strange, ringing, dull, silent thunder-tones of a demon voice. 'dare you go to the caves where my treasures are hid?' "'i dare,' said the miser. "he did not know that his lips had syllabled a reply. he did not even hear his own words. but all the place had become suddenly vocal with echoes. the great rock against which he leaned crashed forth, 'i dare.' then all along through the forest, dashing from tree to tree and lost at last among the murmuring of breeze-shaken leaves, went careering his answer, taken up and repeated scornfully, 'i dare.' and after a silence, while the daring one trembled and would gladly have ventured to shout, for the companionship of his own voice, there came across from the vast snow wall of tacoma a tone like the muffled, threatening plunge of an avalanche into a chasm, 'i dare.' "'you dare,' said tamanoüs, enveloping him with a dread sense of an unseen, supernatural presence; 'you pray for wealth of hiaqua. listen!' "this injunction was hardly needed; the miser was listening with dull eyes kindled and starting. he was listening with every rusty hair separating from its unkempt mattedness, and outstanding upright, a caricature of an aureole. "'listen,' said tamanoüs, in the noonday hush. and then tamanoüs vouchsafed at last the great secret of the hiaqua mines, while in terror near to death the miser heard, and every word of guidance toward the hidden treasure of the mountains seared itself into his soul ineffaceably. "silence came again more terrible now than the voice of tamanoüs,--silence under the shadow of the great cliff,--silence deepening down the forest vistas,--silence filling the void up to the snows of tacoma. all life and motion seemed paralyzed. at last skai-ki, the blue-jay, the wise bird, foe to magic, sang cheerily overhead. her song seemed to refresh again the honest laws of nature. the buzz of life stirred everywhere again, and the inspired miser rose and hastened home to prepare for his work. "when tamanoüs has put a great thought in a man's brain, has whispered him a great discovery within his power, or hinted at a great crime, that spiteful demon does not likewise suggest the means of accomplishment. "the miser, therefore, must call upon his own skill to devise proper tools, and upon his own judgment to fix upon the most fitting time for carrying out his quest. sending his squaw out to the kamas prairie, under pretence that now was the season for her to gather their winter store of that sickish-sweet esculent root, and that she might not have her squaw's curiosity aroused by seeing him at strange work, he began his preparations. he took a pair of enormous elk-horns, and fashioned from each horn a two-pronged pick or spade, by removing all the antlers except the two topmost. he packed a good supply of kippered salmon, and filled his pouch with kinni kinnick for smoking in his black stone pipe. with his bow and arrows and his two elk-horn picks wrapped in buckskin hung at his back, he started just before sunset, as if for a long hunt. his old, faithful, maltreated, blanketless, vermilionless squaw, returning with baskets full of kamas, saw him disappearing moodily down the trail. "all that night, all the day following, he moved on noiselessly by paths he knew. he hastened on, unnoticing outward objects, as one with a controlling purpose hastens. elk and deer, bounding through the trees, passed him, but he tarried not. at night he camped just below the snows of tacoma. he was weary, weary, and chill night-airs blowing down from the summit almost froze him. he dared not take his fire-sticks, and, placing one perpendicular upon a little hollow on the flat side of the other, twirl the upright stick rapidly between his palms until the charred spot kindled and lighted his 'tipsoo,' his dry, tindery wool of inner bark. a fire, gleaming high upon the mountain-side, might be a beacon to draw thither any night-wandering savage to watch in ambush, and learn the path toward the mines of hiaqua. so he drowsed chilly and fireless, awakened often by dread sounds of crashing and rumbling among the chasms of tacoma. he desponded bitterly, almost ready to abandon his quest, almost doubting whether he had in truth received a revelation, whether his interview with tamanoüs had not been a dream, and finally whether all the hiaqua in the world was worth this toil and anxiety. fortunate is the sage who at such a point turns back and buys his experience without worse befalling him. "past midnight he suddenly was startled from his drowse, and sat bolt upright in terror. a light. was there another searcher in the forest, and a bolder than he? that flame just glimmering over the tree-tops, was it a camp-fire of friend or foe? had tamanoüs been revealing to another the great secret? no, smiled the miser, his eyes fairly open, and discovering that the new light was the moon. he had been waiting for her illumination of paths heretofore untrodden by mortal. she did not show her full, round jolly face, but turned it askance as if she hardly liked to be implicated in this night's transaction. "however, it was light he wanted, not sympathy, and he started up at once to climb over the dim snows. the surface was packed by the night's frost, and his moccasins gave him firm hold; yet he travelled but slowly, and could not always save himself from a _glissade_ backwards, and a bruise upon some projecting knob or crag. sometimes, upright fronts of ice diverted him for long circuits, or a broken wall of cold cliff arose, which he must surmount painfully. once or twice he stuck fast in a crevice, and hardly drew himself out by placing his bundle of picks across the crack. as he plodded and floundered thus deviously and toilsomely upward, at last the wasted moon gan pale overhead, and under foot the snow grew rosy with coming dawn. the dim world about the mountain's base displayed something of its vast detail. he could see, more positively than by moonlight, the far-reaching arteries of mist marking the organism of whulge beneath; and what had been but a black chaos now revealed itself into the alpine forest whence he had come. "but he troubled himself little with staring about; up he looked, for the summit was at hand. to win that summit was wellnigh the attainment of his hopes, if tamanoüs were true; and that, with the flush of morning ardor upon him, he could not doubt. there, in a spot tamanoüs had revealed to him, was hiaqua,--hiaqua that should make him the richest and greatest of all the squallyamish. "the chill before sunrise was upon him as he reached the last curve of the dome. sunrise and he struck the summit together. together sunrise and he looked over the glacis. they saw within a great hollow all covered with the whitest of snow, save at the centre, where a black lake lay deep in a well of purple rock. "at the eastern end of this lake was a small, irregular plain of snow, marked by three stones like monuments. towards these the miser sprang rapidly, with full sunshine streaming after him over the snows. "the first monument he examined with keen looks. it was tall as a giant man, and its top was fashioned into the grotesque likeness of a salmon's head. he turned from this to inspect the second. it was of similar height, but bore at its apex an object in shape like the regular flame of a torch. as he approached, he presently discovered that this was an image of the kamas-bulb in stone. these two semblances of prime necessities of indian life delayed him but an instant, and he hastened on to the third monument, which stood apart on a perfect level. the third stone was capped by something he almost feared to behold, lest it should prove other than his hopes. every word of tamanoüs had thus far proved veritable; but might there not be a bitter deceit at the last? the miser trembled. "yes, tamanoüs was trustworthy. the third monument was as the old man anticipated. it was a stone elk's head, such as it appears in earliest summer, when the antlers are sprouting lustily under their rough jacket of velvet. "you remember, boston tyee," continued hamitchou, "that elk was the old man's tamanoüs, the incarnation for him of the universal tamanoüs. he therefore was right joyous at this good omen of protection; and his heart grew big and swollen with hope, as the black salmon-berry swells in a swamp in june. he threw down his 'ikta'; every impediment he laid down upon the snow; and, unwrapping his two picks of elk-horn, he took the stoutest, and began to dig in the frozen snow at the foot of the elk-head monument. "no sooner had he struck the first blow than he heard behind him a sudden puff, such as a seal makes when it comes to the surface to breathe. turning round much startled, he saw a huge otter just clambering up over the edge of the lake. the otter paused, and struck on the snow with his tail, whereupon another otter and another appeared, until, following their leader in slow and solemn file, were twelve other otters, marching toward the miser. the twelve approached, and drew up in a circle around him. each was twice as large as any otter ever seen. their chief was four times as large as the most gigantic otter ever seen in the regions of whulge, and certainly was as great as a seal. when the twelve were arranged, their leader skipped to the top of the elk-head stone, and sat there between the horns. then the whole thirteen gave a mighty puff in chorus. "the hunter of hiaqua was for a moment abashed at his uninvited ring of spectators. but he had seen otter before, and bagged them. these he could not waste time to shoot, even if a phalanx so numerous were not formidable. besides, they might be tamanoüs. he took to his pick and began digging stoutly. "he soon made way in the snow, and came to solid rock beneath. at every thirteenth stroke of his pick, the fugleman otter tapped with his tail on the monument. then the choir of lesser otters tapped together with theirs on the snow. this caudal action produced a dull, muffled sound, as if there were a vast hollow below. "digging with all his force, by and by the seeker for treasure began to tire, and laid down his elk-horn spade to wipe the sweat from his brow. straightway the fugleman otter turned, and, swinging his tail, gave the weary man a mighty thump on the shoulder; and the whole band, imitating, turned, and, backing inward, smote him with centripetal tails, until he resumed his labors, much bruised. "the rock lay first in plates, then in scales. these it was easy to remove. presently, however, as the miser pried carelessly at a larger mass, he broke his elkhorn tool. fugleman otter leaped down, and seizing the supplemental pick between his teeth, mouthed it over to the digger. then the amphibious monster took in the same manner the broken pick, and bore it round the circle of his suite, who inspected it gravely with puffs. "these strange, magical proceedings disconcerted and somewhat baffled the miser; but he plucked up heart, for the prize was priceless, and worked on more cautiously with his second pick. at last its blows and the regular thumps of the otter's tails called forth a sound hollower and hollower. his circle of spectators narrowed so that he could feel their panting breath as they bent curiously over the little pit he had dug. "the crisis was evidently at hand. "he lifted each scale of rock more delicately. finally he raised a scale so thin that it cracked into flakes as he turned it over. beneath was a large square cavity. "it was filled to the brim with hiaqua. "he was a millionnaire. "the otters recognized him as the favorite of tamanoüs, and retired to a respectful distance. "for some moments he gazed on his treasure, taking thought of his future proud grandeur among the dwellers by whulge. he plunged his arm deep as he could go; there was still nothing but the precious shells. he smiled to himself in triumph; he had wrung the secret from tamanoüs. then, as he withdrew his arm, the rattle of the hiaqua recalled him to the present. he saw that noon was long past, and he must proceed to reduce his property to possession. "the hiaqua was strung upon long, stout sinews of elk, in bunches of fifty shells on each side. four of these he wound about his waist; three he hung across each shoulder; five he took in each hand;--twenty strings of pure white hiaqua, every shell large, smooth, unbroken, beautiful. he could carry no more; hardly even with this could he stagger along. he put down his burden for a moment, while he covered up the seemingly untouched wealth of the deposit carefully with the scale stones, and brushed snow over the whole. "the miser never dreamed of gratitude, never thought to hang a string from the buried treasure about the salmon and kamas tamanoüs stones, and two strings around the elk's head; no, all must be his own, all he could carry now, and the rest for the future. "he turned, and began his climb toward the crater's edge. at once the otters, with a mighty puff in concert, took up their line of procession, and, plunging into the black lake, began to beat the water with their tails. "the miser could hear the sound of splashing water as he struggled upward through the snow, now melted and yielding. it was a long hour of harsh toil and much backsliding before he reached the rim, and turned to take one more view of this valley of good fortune. "as he looked, a thick mist began to rise from the lake centre, where the otters were splashing. under the mist grew a cylinder of black cloud, utterly hiding the water. "terrible are storms in the mountains; but in this looming mass was a terror more dread than any hurricane of ruin ever bore within its wild vortexes. tamanoüs was in that black cylinder, and as it strode forward, chasing in the very path of the miser, he shuddered, for his wealth and his life were in danger. "however, it might be but a common storm. sunlight was bright as ever overhead in heaven, and all the lovely world below lay dreamily fair, in that afternoon of summer, at the feet of the rich man, who now was hastening to be its king. he stepped from the crater edge and began his descent. "instantly the storm overtook him. he was thrown down by its first assault, flung over a rough bank of iciness, and lay at the foot torn and bleeding, but clinging still to his precious burden. each hand still held its five strings of hiaqua. in each hand he bore a nation's ransom. he staggered to his feet against the blast. utter night was around him,--night as if daylight had forever perished, had never come into being from chaos. the roaring of the storm had also deafened and bewildered him with its wild uproar. "present in every crash and thunder of the gale was a growing undertone, which the miser well knew to be the voice of tamanoüs. a deadly shuddering shook him. heretofore that potent unseen had been his friend and guide; there had been awe, but no terror, in his words. now the voice of tamanoüs was inarticulate, but the miser could divine in that sound an unspeakable threat of wrath and vengeance. floating upon this undertone were sharper tamanoüs voices, shouting and screaming always sneeringly, 'ha, ha, hiaqua!--ha, ha, ha!' "whenever the miser essayed to move and continue his descent, a whirlwind caught him, and with much ado tossed him hither and thither, leaving him at last flung and imprisoned in a pinching crevice, or buried to the eyes in a snowdrift, or bedded upside down on a shaggy boulder, or gnawed by lacerating lava jaws. sharp torture the old man was encountering, but he held fast to his hiaqua. "the blackness grew ever deeper and more crowded with perdition; the din more impish, demoniac, and devilish; the laughter more appalling; and the miser more and more exhausted with vain buffeting. he determined to propitiate exasperated tamanoüs with a sacrifice. he threw into the black cylinder storm his left-handful, five strings of precious hiaqua." "somewhat long-winded is thy legend, hamitchou, great medicine-man of the squallyamish," quoth i. "why didn't the old fool drop his wampum,--shell out, as one might say,--and make tracks?" "well, well!" continued hamitchou; "when the miser had thrown away his first handful of hiaqua, there was a momentary lull in elemental war, and he heard the otters puffing around him invisible. then the storm renewed, blacker, louder, harsher, crueller than before, and over the dread undertone of the voice of tamanoüs, tamanoüs voices again screamed, 'ha, ha, ha, hiaqua!' and it seemed as if tamanoüs hands, or the paws of the demon otters, clutched at the miser's right-handful and tore at his shoulder and waist belts. "so, while darkness and tempest still buffeted the hapless old man, and thrust him away from his path, and while the roaring was wickeder than the roars of tens and tens of tens of bears when ahungered they pounce upon a plain of kamas, gradually wounded and terrified he flung away string after string of hiaqua, gaining never any notice of such sacrifice, except an instant's lull of the cyclone and a puff from the invisible otters. "the last string he clung to long, and before he threw it to be caught and whirled after its fellows, he tore off a single bunch of fifty shells. but upon this, too, the storm laid its clutches. in the final desperate struggle the old man was wounded so sternly that when he had given up his last relic of the mighty treasure, when he had thrown into the formless chaos, instinct with tamanoüs, his last propitiatory offering, he sank and became insensible. "it seemed a long slumber to him, but at last he awoke. the jagged moon was just paling overhead, and he heard skai-ki, the blue-jay, foe to magic, singing welcome to sunrise. it was the very spot whence he started at morning. "he was hungry, and felt for his bag of kamas and pouch of smokeleaves. there, indeed, by his side were the elk-sinew strings of the bag, and the black stone pipe-bowl,--but no bag, no kamas, no kinni kinnik. the whole spot was thick with kamas plants, strangely out of place on the mountain-side, and overhead grew a large arbutus-tree, with glistening leaves, ripe for smoking. the old man found his hardwood fire-sticks safe under the herbage, and soon twirled a light, and, nurturing it in dry grass, kindled a cheery fire. he plucked up kamas, set it to roast, and laid a store of the arbutus-leaves to dry on a flat stone. "after he had made a hearty breakfast of the chestnut-like kamas-bulbs, and, smoking the thoughtful pipe, was reflecting on the events of yesterday, he became aware of an odd change in his condition. he was not bruised and wounded from head to foot, as he expected, but very stiff only, and as he stirred, his joints creaked like the creak of a lazy paddle upon the rim of a canoe. skai-ki, the blue-jay, was singularly familiar with him, hopping from her perch in the arbutus, and alighting on his head. as he put his hand to dislodge her, he touched his scratching-stick of bone, and attempted to pass it, as usual, through his hair. the hair was matted and interlaced into a network reaching fully two ells down his back. 'tamanoüs,' thought the old man. "chiefly he was conscious of a mental change. he was calm and content. hiaqua and wealth seemed to have lost their charms for him. tacoma, shining like gold and silver and precious stones of gayest lustre, seemed a benign comrade and friend. all the outer world was cheerful and satisfying. he thought he had never awakened to a fresher morning. he was a young man again, except for that unusual stiffness and unmelodious creaking joints. he felt no apprehension of any presence of a deputy tamanoüs, sent by tamanoüs to do malignities upon him in the lonely wood. great nature had a kindly aspect, and made its divinity perceived only by the sweet notes of birds and the hum of forest life, and by a joy that clothed his being. and now he found in his heart a sympathy for man, and a longing to meet his old acquaintances down by the shores of whulge. "he rose, and started on the downward way, smiling, and sometimes laughing heartily at the strange croaking, moaning, cracking, and rasping of his joints. but soon motion set the lubricating valves at work, and the sockets grew slippery again. he marched rapidly, hastening out of loneliness into society. the world of wood, glade, and stream seemed to him strangely altered. old colossal trees, firs behind which he had hidden when on the hunt, cedars under whose drooping shade he had lurked, were down, and lay athwart his path, transformed into immense mossy mounds, like barrows of giants, over which he must clamber warily, lest he sink and be half stifled in the dust of rotten wood. had tamanoüs been widely at work in that eventful night?--or had the spiritual change the old man felt affected his views of the outer world? "travelling downward, he advanced rapidly, and just before sunset came to the prairies where his lodge should be. everything had seemed to him so totally altered, that he tarried a moment in the edge of the woods to take an observation before approaching his home. there was a lodge, indeed, in the old spot, but a newer and far handsomer one than he had left on the fourth evening before. "a very decrepit old squaw, ablaze with vermilion and decked with countless strings of hiaqua and costly beads, was seated on the ground near the door, tending a kettle of salmon, whose blue and fragrant steam mingled pleasantly with the golden haze of sunset. she resembled his own squaw in countenance, as an ancient smoked salmon is like a newly-dried salmon. if she was indeed his spouse, she was many years older than when he saw her last, and much better dressed than the respectable lady had ever been during his miserly days. "he drew near quietly. the bedizened dame was crooning a chant, very dolorous,--like this: 'my old man has gone, gone, gone,-- my old man to tacoma, has gone. to hunt the elk, he went long ago. when will he come down, down, down, down to the salmon-pot and me?' 'he has come from tacoma down, down, down,-- down to the salmon-pot and thee,' shouted the reformed miser, rushing forward to supper and his faithful wife." "and how did penelope explain the mystery?" i asked. "if you mean the old lady," replied hamitchou, "she was my grandmother, and i'd thank you not to call names. she told my grandfather that he had been gone many years;--she could not tell how many, having dropped her tally-stick in the fire by accident that very day. she also told him how, in despite of the entreaties of many a chief who knew her economic virtues, and prayed her to become mistress of his household, she had remained constant to the absent, and forever kept the hopeful salmon-pot boiling for his return. she had distracted her mind from the bitterness of sorrow by trading in kamas and magic herbs, and had thus acquired a genteel competence. the excellent dame then exhibited with great complacency her gains, most of which she had put in the portable and secure form of personal ornament, making herself a resplendent magazine of valuable frippery. "little cared the repentant sage for such things. but he was rejoiced to be again at home and at peace, and near his own early gains of hiaqua and treasure, buried in a place of security. these, however, he no longer over-esteemed and hoarded. he imparted whatever he possessed, material treasures or stores of wisdom and experience, freely to all the land. every dweller by whulge came to him for advice how to chase the elk, how to troll or spear the salmon, and how to propitiate tamanoüs. he became the great medicine man of the siwashes, a benefactor to his tribe and his race. "within a year after he came down from his long nap on the side of tacoma, a child, my father, was born to him. the sage lived many years, beloved and revered, and on his deathbed, long before the boston tilicum or any blanketeers were seen in the regions of whulge, he told this history to my father, as a lesson and a warning. my father, dying, told it to me. but i, alas! have no son; i grow old, and lest this wisdom perish from the earth, and tamanoüs be again obliged to interpose against avarice, i tell the tale to thee, o boston tyee. mayest thou and thy nation not disdain this lesson of an earlier age, but profit by it and be wise." so far hamitchou recounted his legend without the palisades of fort nisqually, and motioning, in expressive pantomime, at the close, that he was dry with big talk, and would gladly wet his whistle. [chapter viii, beginning at page of the original publication, is entitled: "sowee house--loolowcan."] i had not long, that noon of august, from the top of la tête, to study tacoma, scene of hamitchou's wild legend. humanity forbade dalliance. while i fed my soul with sublimity, klale and his comrades were wretched with starvation. but the summit of the pass is near. a few struggles more, klale the plucky, and thy empty sides shall echo less drum-like. up stoutly, my steeds; up a steep but little less than perpendicular, paw over these last trunks of the barricades in our trail, and ye have won! so it was. the angle of our ascent suddenly broke down from ninety to fifteen, then to nothing. we had reached the plateau. here were the first prairies. nibble in these, my nags, for a few refreshing moments, and then on to superlative dinners in lovelier spots just beyond. let no one, exaggerating the joys of campaigning, with horace's "militia potior est," deem that there is no compensating pang among them. is it a pleasant thing, o traveller only in dreams, envier of the voyager in reality, to urge tired, reluctant, and unfed mustangs up a mountain pass, even for their own good? in such a case a man, the humanest and gentlest, must adopt the manners of a brute. he must ply the whip, and that cruelly; otherwise, no go. at first, as he smites, he winces, for he has struck his own sensibilities; by and by he hardens himself, and thrashes without a tremor. when the cortege arrives at an edible prairie, gastronomic satisfaction will put lethean freshness in the battered hide of every horse. we presently turned just aside from the trail into an episode of beautiful prairie, one of a succession along the plateau at the crest of the range. at this height of about five thousand feet, the snows remain until june. in this fair, oval, forest-circled prairie of my nooning, the grass was long and succulent, as if it grew in the bed of a drained lake. the horses, undressed, were allowed to plunge and wallow in the deep herbage. only horse heads soon could be seen, moving about like their brother hippopotami, swimming in sedges. to me it was luxury enough not to be a whip for a time. over and above this, i had the charm of a quiet nooning on a bank of emerald turf, by a spring, at the edge of a clump of evergreens. i took my luncheon of cold salt pork and doughy biscuit by a well of brightest water. i called in no proxy of tin cup to aid me in saluting this sparkling creature, but stooped and kissed the spring. when i had rendered my first homage thus to the goddess of the fountain, Ægle herself, perhaps, fairest of naiads, i drank thirstily of the medium in which she dwelt. a bubbling dash of water leaped up and splashed my visage as i withdrew. why so, sweet fountain, which i may name hippocrene, since hoofs of klale have caused me thy discovery? is this a rebuff? if there ever was lover who little merited such treatment it is i. "not so, appreciative stranger," came up in other bubbling gushes the responsive voice of nature through sweet vibrations of the melodious fount. "never a nymph of mine will thrust thee back. this sudden leap of water was a movement of sympathy, and a gentle emotion of hospitality. the naiad there was offering thee her treasure liberally, and saying that, drink as thou wilt, i, her mother nature, have commanded my winds and sun to distil thee fresh supplies, and my craggy crevices are filtering it in the store-houses, that it may be offered to every welcome guest, pure and cool as airs of dawn. stoop down," continued the voice, "thirsty wayfarer, and kiss again my daughter of the fountain, nor be abashed if she meets thee half-way. she knows that a true lover will never scorn his love's delicate advances." in response to such invitation, and the more for my thirsty slices of pork, i lapped the aerated tipple in its goblet, whose stem reaches deep into the bubble laboratories. i lapped,--an excellent test of pluck in the days of gideon son of barak;--and why? for many reasons, but among them for this;--he who lying prone can with stout muscular gullet swallow water, will be also able to swallow back into position his heart, when in moments of tremor it leaps into his throat. when i had lapped plenteously, i lay and let the breeze-shaken shadows smooth me into smiling mood, while my sympathies overflowed to enjoy with my horses their dinner. they fed like school-boys home for thanksgiving, in haste lest the present banquet, too good to be true, prove barmecide. a feast of colossal grasses placed itself at the lips of the breakfastless stud. they champed as their nature was;--klale like a hungry gentleman,--gubbins like a hungry clodhopper,--antipodes like a lubberly oaf. they were laying in, according to the hudson's bay company's rule, supply at this meal for five days; without such power, neither man nor horse is fit to tramp the northwest. i lay on the beautiful verdant bank, plucking now dextrously and now sinistrously of strawberries, that summer, climbing late to these snowy heights, had just ripened. medical men command us to swallow twice a day one bitter pill confectioned of all disgust. nature doses us, by no means against our will, with many sweet boluses of delight, berries compacted of acidulated, sugary spiciness. nature, tenderest of leeches,--no bolus of hers is pleasanter medicament than her ruddy strawberries. she shaped them like minié-balls, that they might traverse unerringly to the cell of most dulcet digestion. over their glistening surfaces she peppered little golden dots to act as obstacles lest they should glide too fleetly over the surfaces of taste, and also to gently rasp them into keener sensitiveness. mongers of pestled poisons may punch their pills in malodorous mortars, roll them in floury palms, pack them in pink boxes, and send them forth to distress a world of patients:--but nature, who if she even feels one's pulse does it by a gentle pressure of atmosphere,--nature, knowing that her children in their travels always need lively tonics, tells wind, sun, and dew, servitors of hers, clean and fine of touch, to manipulate gay strawberries, and dispose them attractively on fair green terraces, shaded at parching noon. of these lovely fabrics of pithy pulpiness, no limit to the dose, if the invalid does as nature intended, and plucks for himself, with fingers rosy and fragrant. i plucked of them, as far as i could reach on either side of me, and then lay drowsily reposing on my couch at the summit of the cascade pass, under the shade of a fir, which, outstanding from the forest, had changed its columnar structure into a pyramidal, and had branches all along its stalwart trunk, instead of a mere tuft at the top. in this shade i should have known the tree which gave it, without looking up,--not because the sharp little spicular leaves of the fir, miniatures of that sword rome used to open the world, its oyster, would drop and plunge themselves into my eyes, or would insert their blades down my back and scarify,--but because there is an influence and sentiment in umbrages, and under every tree its own atmosphere. elms refine and have a graceful elegiac effect upon those they shelter. oaks drop robustness. mimosas will presently make a sensitive-plant of him who hangs his hammock beneath their shade. cocoa-palms will infect him with such tropical indolence, that he will not stir until frowzy monkeys climb the tree and pelt him away to the next one. the shade of pine-trees, as any one can prove by a journey in maine, makes those who undergo it wiry, keen, trenchant, inexhaustible, and tough. when i had felt the influence of my fir shelter, on the edge of the wayside prairie, long enough, i became of course keen as a blade. i sprang up and called to loolowcan, in a resinous voice, "mamook chaco cuitan; make come horse." loolowcan, in more genial mood than i had known him, drove the trio out from the long grass. they came forth not with backward hankerings, but far happier quadrupeds than when they climbed the pass at noon. it was a pleasure now to compress with the knees klale, transformed from an empty barrel with protuberant hoops, into a full elastic cylinder, smooth as the boiler of a locomotive. "loolowcan, my lad, my experienced guide, cur nesika moosum; where sleep we?" said i. "copa sowee house,--kicuali. sowee, olyman tyee,--memloose. sia-a-ah mitlite;--at sowee's camp--below. sowee, oldman chief,--dead. it is far, far away," replied the son of owhhigh. far is near, distance is annihilated this brilliant day of summer, for us recreated with hippocrene, strawberries, shade of fir and tall snow-fed grass. down the mountain range seems nothing after our long laborious up; "the half is more than the whole." "lead on, loolowcan, intelligent brave, toward the residence of the late sowee." more fair prairies linked themselves along the trail. from these alpine pastures the future will draw butter and cheese, pasturing migratory cattle there, when summer dries the scanty grass upon the macadamized prairies of whulge. it is well to remind ourselves sometimes that the world is not wholly squatted over. the plateau soon began to ebb toward the downward slope. descent was like ascent, a way shaggy and abrupt. again the boston hooihut intruded. my friends the woodsmen had constructed an elaborate inclined plane of very knobby corduroy. klale sniffed at this novel road, and turned up his nose at it. he was competent to protect that feature against all the perils of stumble and fall on the trails he had been educated to travel, but dreaded grinding it on the rough bark of this unaccustomed highway. slow-footed oxen, leaning inward and sustaining each other, like two roysterers unsteady after wassail, might clumsily toil up such a road as this, hauling up stout, white-cotton-roofed wagons, filled with the babies and lares of emigrants; but quick-footed ponies, descending and carrying light loads of a wild indian and an untamed blanketeer, chose rather to whisk along the aboriginal paths. as we came to the irregular terraces after the first pitch, and scampered on gayly, i by and by heard a welcome whiz, and a dusky grouse (_tetrao obscurus_) lifted himself out of the trail into the lower branches of a giant fir. i had lugged my double-barrel thus far, a futile burden, unless when it served a minatory purpose among the drunken klalams. now it became an animated machine, and uttered a sharp exclamation of relief after long patient silence. down came tetrao,--down he came with satisfactory thud, signifying pounds of something not pork for supper. we bagged him joyously and dashed on. "kopet," whispered loolowcan turning, with a hushing gesture, "hiu kullakullie nika nanitch;--halt, plenty birds i see." he was so eager that from under his low brows and unkempt hair his dusky eyes glared like the eyes of wild beast, studying his prey from a shadowy lair. dismounting, i stole forward with assassin intent, and birds, grouse, five noble ones i saw, engaged in fattening their bodies for human solace and support. i sent a shot among them. there was a flutter among the choir,--one fluttered not. at the sound of my right barrel one bird fell without rising; another rose and fell at a hint from the sinister tube. the surviving trio were distracted by mortal terror. they flew no farther than a dwarf tree hard by. i drew my revolver, thinking that there might not be time to load, and fired in a hurry at the lowermost. "hyas tamanoüs!" whispered loolowcan, when no bird fell or flew,--"big magic," it seemed to the superstitious youth. often when sportsmen miss, they claim that their gun is bewitched, and avail themselves of the sure silver bullet. a second ball, passing with keener aim through the barrel, attained its mark. grouse third shook off his mortal remains, and sped to heaven. the two others, contrary to rule, for i had shot the lower, fled, cowardly carrying their heavy bodies to die of cold, starvation, or old age. "the good die first,"--ay, wordsworth! among birds this is verity; for the good are the fat, who, because of their avoirdupois, lag in flight, or alight upon lower branches and are easiest shot. loolowcan bagged my three trophies and added them to the first. henceforth the thought of a grouse supper became a fixed idea with me. i dwelt upon it with even a morbid appetite. i rehearsed, in prophetic mood, the scene of plucking, the scene of roasting, that happy festal scene of eating. so immersed did i become in gastronomic revery, that i did not mind my lookout, as i dashed after loolowcan, fearless and agile cavalier. a thrust awoke me to a sense of passing objects, a very fierce, lance-like thrust, full at my life. a wrecking snag of harsh dead wood, that projected up in the trail, struck me, and tore me half off my horse, leaving me jerked, scratched, disjointed, and shuddering. pachydermatous leggins of buckskin, at cost of their own unity, had saved me from impalement. some such warning is always preparing for the careless. i soon had an opportunity to propitiate nemesis by a humane action. a monstrous trunk lay across the trail. loolowcan, reckless steeplechaser, put his horse at it, full speed. gubbins, instead of going over neatly, or scrambling over cat-like, reared rampant and shied back, volte face. i rode forward to see what fresh interference of tamanoüs was here,--nothing tamanoüs but an unexpected sorry object of a horse. a wretched castaway, probably abandoned by the exploring party, or astray from them, essaying to leap the tree, had fallen back beneath the trunk and branches, and lay there entangled and perfectly helpless. we struggled to release him. in vain. at last a thought struck me. we seized the poor beast by his tail, fortunately a tenacious member, and, heaving vigorously, towed him out of prison. he tottered forlornly to his feet, looking about him like one risen from the dead. "how now, caudal?" said i, baptizing him by the name of the part that saved his life; "canst thou follow toward fodder?" he debated the question with himself awhile. solitary confinement of indefinite length, in a cramped posture, had given the poor skeleton time to consider that safety from starvation is worth one effort more. he found that there was still a modicum of life and its energy within his baggy hide. my horses seemed to impart to him some of their electricity, and he staggered on droopingly. lucky caudal, if life is worth having, that on that day, of all days, i should have arrived to rescue him. strange deliverances for body and soul come to the dying. fate sends unlooked-for succor, when horses or men despair. luckily for caudal, the weak-kneed and utterly dejected, sowee's prairie was near,--near was the prairie of sowee, mighty hunter of deer and elk, terror of bears. there at weird night sowee's ghost was often seen to stalk. dyspeptics from feather-beds behold ghosts, and are terrified, but nightwalkers are but bugbears to men who have ridden from dawn to dusk of a long summer's day over an indian trail in the mountains. i felt no fear that any incubus in the shape of a brassy-hued indian chief would sit upon my breast that night, and murder wholesome sleep. nightfall was tumbling down from the zenith before we reached camp. the sweet glimmers of twilight were ousted from the forest, sternly as mercy is thrust from a darkening heart. night is really only beautiful so far as it is not night,--that is, for its stars, which are sources of resolute daylight in other spheres, and for its moon, which is daylight's memory, realized, softened, and refined. night, however, had not drawn the pall of brief death over the world so thick but that i could see enough to respect the taste of the late sowee. when he voted himself this farm, and became seized of it in the days of unwritten agrarian laws, and before patents were in vogue, he proved his intelligent right to suffrage and seizure. here in admirable quality were the three first requisites of a home in the wilderness, water, wood, and grass. a musical rustle, as we galloped through, proved the long grass. all around was the unshorn forest. there were columnar firs making the sowee house a hypæthral temple on a grand scale. there had been here a lodge. a few saplings of its framework still stood, but sowee had moved elsewhere not long ago. wake siah memloose,--not long dead was the builder, and viator might camp here unquestioned. caudal had followed us in an inane, irresponsible way. patiently now he stood, apparently waiting for farther commands from his preservers. we unpacked and unsaddled the other animals. they knew their business, namely, to bolt instantly for their pasture. then a busy uproar of nipping and crunching was heard. poor caudal would not take the hint. we were obliged to drive that bony estray with blows out to the supper-field, where he stood aghast at the appetites of his new comrades. repose and good example, however, soon had their effect, and eight equine jaws instead of six made play in the herbage. "alki mika mamook pire, pe nesika klatawah copa klap tsuk; now light thou a fire, and we will go find water," said loolowcan. i struck fire,--fire smote tinder,--tinder sent the flame on, until a pyre from the world's free wood-pile was kindled. this boon of fire,--what wonder that men devised a prometheus greatest of demigods as its discoverer? mortals, shrinking from the responsibility of a high destiny and dreading to know how divine the divine would have them, always imagine an avatar of some one not lower than a half-god when a gift of great price comes to the world. and fire is a very priceless and beautiful boon,--not, as most know it, in imprisonment, barred with iron, or in sooty chimneys, or in mad revolt of conflagration,--but as it grows in a flashing pyramid out in camp in the free woods, with eager air hurrying in on every side to feed its glory. in the gloom i strike metal of steel against metallic flint. from this union a child is born. i receive the young spark tenderly in warm "tipsoo," in a soft woolly nest of bark or grass tinder. swaddled in this he thrives. he smiles; he chuckles; he laughs; he dances about, does my agile nursling. he will soon wear out his first infantile garb, so i cover him up in shelter. i feed him with digestible viands, according to his years. i give him presently stouter fare, and offer exhilarating morsels of fatness. all these the hearty youth assimilates, and grows healthily. and now i educate him to manliness, training him on great joints, shoulders, and marrowy portions. he becomes erelong a power and a friend able to requite me generously for my care. he aids me in preparing my feast, and we feast together. afterward we talk,--flame and i,--we think together strong and passionate thoughts of purpose and achievement. these emotions of manhood die away, and we share pensive memories of happiness missed, or disdained, or feebly grasped and torn away; regrets cover these like embers, and slowly over dead fieriness comes a robe of ashy gray. fire in the forest is light, heat, and cheer. when ours was nurtured to the self-sustaining point, we searched to find where the sage sowee kept his potables. carefully covered up in sedges was a slender supply of water, worth concealing from vulgar dabblers. its diamond drops were hidden away so thoroughly that we must mine for them by torchlight. i held a flaring torch, while loolowcan lay in wait for the trickle, and captured it in a tin pot. how wild he looked, that youth so frowzy by daylight, as, stooping under the tall sedges, he clutched those priceless sparkles. upon the _carte du jour_ at restaurant sowee was written grouse. "how shall we have them?" said i, cook and convive, to loolowcan, marmiton and convive. "one of these cocks of the mountain shall be fried, since gridiron is not," said i to myself, after meditation. "two shall be spitted, and roasted; and, as azrael may not want us before breakfast to-morrow, the fourth shall go on the _carte de dejeuner_." "o pork! what a creature thou art!" continued i, in monologue, cutting neat slices of that viand with my bowie-knife, and laying them fraternally, three in a bed, in the frying-pan. "blessed be moses! who forbade thee to the jews, whereby we, of freer dispensations, heirs of all the ages, inherit also pigs more numerous and bacon cheaper. o pork! what could campaigners do without thy fatness, thy leanness, thy saltness, thy portableness?" here loolowcan presented me the three birds plucked featherless as plato's man. the two roasters we planted carefully on spits before a sultry spot of the fire. from a horizontal stick, supported on forked stakes, we suspended by a twig over each roaster an automatic baster, an inverted cone of pork, ordained to yield its spicy juices to the wooing flame, and drip bedewing on each bosom beneath. the roasters ripened deliberately, while keen and quick fire told upon the fryer, the first course of our feast. meanwhile i brewed a pot of tea, blessing confucius for that restorative weed, as i had blessed moses for his abstinence from porkers. need i say that the grouse was admirable, that everything was delicious, and the confucian weed first chop? even a scouse of mouldy biscuit met the approval of loolowcan. feasts cooked under the greenwood tree, and eaten by their cooks after a triumphant day of progress, are sweeter than the conventional banquets of languid christendom. after we had paid our duty to the brisk fryer and the rotund roaster grouse, nothing remained but bones to propitiate sowee, should he find short commons in elysium, and wander back to his lodge, seeking what he might devour. all along the journey i had been quietly probing the nature of loolowcan, my most intimate associate thus far among the unalloyed copper-skins. chinook jargon was indeed but a blunt probe, yet perhaps delicate enough to follow up such rough bits of conglomerate as served him for ideas. an inductive philosopher, tracing the laws of developing human thought _in corpore viti_ of a frowzy savage, finds his work simple,--the nuggets are on the surface. those tough pebbles known to some metaphysicians as innate ideas, can be studied in loolowcan in their process of formation out of instincts. number one is the prize number in loolowcan's lottery of life. he thinks of that number; he dreams of it alone. when he lies down to sleep, he plots what he will do in the morning with his prize and his possession; when he wakes, he at once proceeds to execute his plots. loolowcan knows that there are powers out of himself; rights out of himself he does not comprehend, or even conceive. i have thus far been very indulgent to him, and treated him republicanly, mindful of the heavy mesne profits for the occupation of a continent, and the uncounted arrears of blood-money owed by my race to his; yet i find no trace of gratitude in my analysis of his character. he seems to be composed, selfishness, five hundred parts;--_nil admirari_ coolness, five hundred parts;--a well-balanced character, and perhaps one not likely to excite enthusiasm in others. i am a steward to him; i purvey him also a horse; when we reach the dalles, i am to pay him for his services;--but he is bound to me by no tie of comradery. he has caution more highly developed than any quadruped i have met, and will not offend me lest i should resign my stewardship, retract gubbins, refuse payment, discharge my guide, and fight through the woods, where he sees i am no stranger, alone. he certainly merits a "teapot" for his ability in guidance. he has memory and observation unerring; not once in all our intricate journey have i found him at fault in any fact of space or time. he knows "each lane and every ally green" here, accurately as comus knew his "wild wood." moral conceptions exist only in a very limited degree for this type of his race. of god he knows somewhat less than the theologians; that is, he is in the primary condition of uninquisitive ignorance, not in the secondary, of inquisitive muddle. he has the advantage of no elaborate system of human inventions to unlearn. he has no distinct fetichism. none of the north american indians have, in the accurate sense of the term; their nomad life and tough struggle with instructive nature in her roughness save them from such elaborate fetichism as may exist in more indolent climes and countries. loolowcan has his tamanoüs. it is talipus, the wolf, a "hyas skookoom tamanoüs, a very mighty demon," he informs me. he does not worship it; that would interfere with his devotions to his real deity, number one. it, in return, does him little service. if he met talipus, object of his superstition, on a fair morning, he would think it a good omen; if on a sulky morning, he might be somewhat depressed, but would not on that account turn back, as a roman brave would have done on meeting the matinal wolf. in fact, he keeps talipus, his tamanoüs, as a kind of ideal hobby, very much as a savage civilized man entertains a pet bulldog or a tame bear, a link between himself and the rude, dangerous forces of nature. loolowcan has either chosen his protector according to the law of likeness, or, choosing it by chance, has become assimilated to its characteristics. a wolfish youth is the _protégé_ of talipus,--an unfaithful, sinister, cannibal-looking son of a horse-thief. wolfish likewise is his appetite; when he asks me for more dinner, and this without stint or decorum he does, he glares as if, grouse failing, pork and hard-tack gone, he could call to talipus to send in a pack of wolves incarnate, and pounce with them upon me. a pleasant companion this for lamb-like me to lie down beside in the den of the late sowee. yet i do presently, after supper and a pipe, and a little jargoning in chinook with my wolf, roll into my blankets, and sleep vigorously, lulled by the gratifying noise of my graminivorous horses cramming themselves with material for leagues of lope to-morrow. no shade of sowee came to my slumbers with warning against the wolf in guise of a klickatat brave. i had no ghostly incubus to shake off, but sprang up recreate in body and soul. life is vivid when it thus awakes. to be is to do. and to-day much is to be done. long leagues away, beyond a gorge of difficulty, is the open rolling hill country, and again far beyond are the lodges of the people of owhhigh. "to-day," said loolowcan, "we must go copa nika ilihee, to my home, to weenas." forlorn caudal is hardly yet a frisky quadruped. yet he is of better cheer, perhaps up to the family-nag degree of vivacity. as to the others, they have waxed fat, and kick. klale, the humorous, kicks playfully, elongating in preparatory gymnastics. gubbins, the average horse, kicks calmly at his saddler, merely as a protest. antipodes, the spiteful blunderer, kicks in a revolutionary manner, rolls under his pack-saddle, and will not budge without maltreatment. ill-educated antipodes views mankind only as excoriators of his back, and general flagellants. klickitats kept him raw in flesh and temper; under me his physical condition improves; his character is not yet affected. before sunrise we quitted the house of sowee. footnotes: [ ] captain william henry mcneill and alexander caulfield anderson, hudson's bay company men, then at nisqually house. captain mcneill was master of the famous old steamer _beaver_. mr. anderson was in charge of nisqually house. both men were honored by having their names given to islands in puget sound. [ ] pierre charles, french canadian, had been an employee of the hudson's bay company. [ ] simon plomondon was an employee of the hudson's bay company, who retired and settled in the cowlitz valley. [ ] probably the stone creek of present usage. [ ] carbon river. [ ] meaning up the carbon river and its branch called south prairie creek. [ ] chehalis river. [ ] white river. [ ] white river. [ ] lieutenant richard arnold, in pacific railway reports, volume xii, part i, page , says: "near the junction of whitewater and green rivers there is a remarkable peak called la tête, from a large rock on its slope resembling the head and neck of a man. this is an important point, as it forms the gate of the mountains on the west." modern maps shift the "water" part of the names. they are now white and greenwater rivers. [ ] white and greenwater rivers. [ ] this is an error and should read ° ' w. as naches pass is known to be ° ' and lieutenant johnson's "little prairie" was a little west of the pass. [ ] greenwater branch of white river. [ ] naches river. [ ] wenatchee river. [ ] mount adams. the two peaks were frequently confused in early writings. [illustration: general august valentine kautz. united states army.] v. first attempted ascent, by lieutenant a. v. kautz, u.s.a. august valentine kautz was born at ispringen, baden, germany, on january , . in that same year his parents came to america. on attaining manhood the son entered the army and served as a private soldier in the mexican war. at its conclusion he was appointed to the military academy at west point. graduating in , he was assigned to the fourth infantry and soon found himself in the pacific northwest. after going through the indian wars here he achieved a brilliant record in the civil war. continuing in the army, he reached the rank of brigadier-general and was for a time in command of the department of the columbia. he died at seattle on september , . it was while, as a lieutenant, he was stationed at fort steilacoom that he attempted to ascend mount rainier. his account of the trip was published in the overland monthly, may, . it is here republished by permission of the editor. while the ascent was claimed to be complete the climber says there was still higher land above him, and it is now difficult to fix the exact altitude attained. professor i. c. russell declares that professor george davidson made a statement before the california academy of sciences, on march , , to the effect that when lieutenant kautz "attempted the ascent of mount rainier in " he found his way barred by a great glacier. from this, says professor russell, it "seems that he first reported the existence of living glaciers in the united states." (see: israel c. russell: glaciers of north america; boston, ginn & company, , p. ). the portrait of general kautz was furnished by his daughter, mrs. navana kautz simpson, of cincinnati, ohio. in the summer of i was stationed at fort steilacoom, washington territory. this post was located near the village of steilacoom, on the waters of puget sound. the post and the village took their names from a little stream near by, which is the outlet of a number of small lakes and ponds emptying into the sound. quite a family of indians made their permanent home in the vicinity of this creek in former years, and were known as "_steilacoom tillicum_." according to the indian pronunciation of the name it should have been spelled "steelacoom," dwelling long on the first syllable. i was at that time a first-lieutenant, young, and fond of visiting unexplored sections of the country, and possessed of a very prevailing passion for going to the tops of high places. my quarters fronted mount rainier, which is about sixty miles nearly east of fort steilacoom in an air line. on a clear day it does not look more than ten miles off, and looms up against the eastern sky white as the snow with which it is covered, with a perfectly pyramidal outline, except at the top, which is slightly rounded and broken. it is a grand and inspiring view, and i had expressed so often my determination to make the ascent, without doing it, that my fellow-officers finally became incredulous, and gave to all improbable and doubtful events a date of occurrence when i should ascend mount rainier. my resolution, however, took shape and form about the first of july. nearly all the officers had been very free to volunteer to go with me as long as they felt certain i was not going; but when i was ready to go, i should have been compelled to go alone but for the doctor, who was on a visit to the post from fort bellingham. i made preparations after the best authorities i could find, from reading accounts of the ascent of mont blanc and other snow mountains. we made for each member of the party an _alpenstock_ of dry ash with an iron point. we sewed upon our shoes an extra sole, through which were first driven four-penny nails with the points broken off and the heads inside. we took with us a rope about fifty feet long, a hatchet, a thermometer, plenty of hard biscuit, and dried beef such as the indians prepare. information relating to the mountain was exceedingly meagre; no white man had ever been near it, and indians were very superstitious and afraid of it. the southern slope seemed the least abrupt, and in that direction i proposed to reach the mountain; but whether to keep the high ground, or follow some stream to its source, was a question. leshi, the chief of the nesquallies, was at that time in the guard-house, awaiting his execution, and as i had greatly interested myself to save him from his fate, he volunteered the information that the valley of the nesqually river was the best approach after getting above the falls. he had some hope that i would take him as a guide; but finding that out of the question he suggested wah-pow-e-ty,[ ] an old indian of the nesqually tribe, as knowing more about the nesqually than any other of his people. mount rainier is situated on the western side of the cascade range, near the forty-seventh parallel. the range to which it belongs averages about , to , feet in height, and snow may be seen along its summit-level the year round, while rainier, with its immense covering of snow, towers as high again above the range. in various travels and expeditions in the territory, i had viewed the snow-peaks of this range from all points of the compass, and since that time having visited the mountain regions of europe, and most of those of north america, i assert that washington territory contains mountain scenery in quantity and quality sufficient to make half a dozen switzerlands, while there is on the continent none more grand and imposing than is presented in the cascade range north of the columbia river. about noon on the th of july [ ] we finally started. the party consisted of four soldiers--two of them equipped to ascend the mountain, and the other two to take care of our horses when we should be compelled to leave them. we started the soldiers on the direct route, with orders to stop at mr. wren's, on the eastern limit of the nesqually plains, ten or twelve miles distant, and wait for us, while the doctor and i went by the nesqually reservation in order to pick up old wah-pow-e-ty, the indian guide. we remained all night at wren's, and the next morning entered that immense belt of timber with which the western slope of the cascade range is covered throughout its entire length. i had become familiar with the indian trail that we followed, the year previous, in our pursuit of indians. the little patches of prairie are so rare that they constitute in that immense forest landmarks for the guidance of the traveler. six miles from wren's we came to pawhtummi, a little _camas_ prairie about yards long, and in breadth, a resort for the indians in the proper season to gather the _camas_-root. six miles farther we came to a similar prairie, circular in form, not more than yards in diameter, called koaptil. another six or seven miles took us to the tanwut, a small stream with a patch of prairie bordering it, where the trail crossed. ten or twelve miles more brought us to the mishawl prairie, where we camped for the night, this being the end of the journey for our horses, and the limit of our knowledge of the country. this prairie takes its name from the stream near by, and is situated between it and the owhap on a high table-land or bluff, not more than one or two miles from where these enter the nesqually. it is perhaps half a mile long, and or yards wide at the widest point. the grass was abundant, and it was an excellent place to leave our horses. fifteen months before, i had visited this spot, and camped near by with a small detachment of troops, searching for indians who had hidden away in these forests, completely demoralized and nearly starving. a family of two or three men, and quite a number of women and children, had camped in the fork of the mishawl and nesqually, about two miles from this prairie, and were making fishtraps to catch salmon. when we fell in with them we learned that the washington territory volunteers had been before us, and with their immensely superior force had killed the most of them without regard to age or sex. our own little command in that expedition captured about thirty of these poor, half-starved, ignorant creatures, and no act of barbarity was perpetrated by us to mar the memory of that success. we accordingly camped in the mishawl prairie. when i was here before it was in march, and the rainy season was still prevailing; the topographical engineer of the expedition and i slept under the same blankets on a wet drizzly night, and next morning treated each other to bitter reproaches for having each had more than his share of the covering. now the weather was clear and beautiful, and the scene lovely in comparison. i can imagine nothing more gloomy and cheerless than a fir-forest in washington territory on a rainy winter day. the misty clouds hang down below the tops of the tallest trees, and although it does not rain, but drizzles, yet it is very wet and cold, and penetrates every thread of clothing to the skin. the summers of this region are in extraordinary contrast with the winters. clear, beautiful, and dry, they begin in may and last till november; while in the winter, although in latitude ° and °, it rarely freezes or snows--often, however, raining two weeks without stopping a permeating drizzle. on this th of july, , the weather was beautiful; it had not rained for weeks. the mishawl--a raging mountain torrent, when last i saw it--was now a sluggish rivulet of clear mountain-spring water. we started early on our journey, having made our preparations the evening before. we calculated to be gone about six days. each member of the party had to carry his own provisions and bedding; everything was therefore reduced to the minimum. each took a blanket, twenty-four crackers of hard bread, and about two pounds of dried beef. we took dogue (a german) and carroll (an irishman) with us; they were both volunteers for the trip; one carried the hatchet and the other the rope. i carried a field-glass, thermometer, and a large-sized revolver. wah-pow-e-ty carried his rifle, with which we hoped to procure some game. the soldiers carried no arms. bell and doneheh were left behind to take care of the horses and extra provisions, until our return. we each had a haversack for our provisions, and a tin canteen for water. the doctor very unwisely filled his with whisky instead of water. having sounded wah-pow-e-ty as to the route, we learned he had once been on the upper nesqually when a boy, with his father, and that his knowledge of the country was very limited. we ascertained, however, that we could not follow the nesqually at first; that there was a fall in the river a short distance above the mouth of the mishawl, and that the mountains came down so abrupt and precipitous that we could not follow the stream, and that the mountain must be crossed first and a descent made to the river above the fall. that mountain proved a severer task than we anticipated. there was no path and no open country--only a dense forest, obstructed with undergrowth and fallen timber. the sun was very hot when it could reach us through the foliage; not a breath of air stirred, and after we crossed the mishawl, not a drop of water was to be had until we got down to low ground again. we toiled from early morning until three o'clock in the afternoon before we reached the summit. as the doctor had taken whisky instead of water in his canteen, he found it necessary to apply to the other members of the party to quench his thirst, and our canteens were speedily empty. the doctor sought relief in whisky, but it only aggravated his thirst, and he poured out the contents of his canteen. the severe exertion required for the ascent brought on painful cramps in his legs, and at one time, about the middle of the day, i concluded that we should be obliged to leave him to find his way back to camp while we went on without him; but he made an agreement with wah-pow-e-ty to carry his pack for him in addition to his own, for ten dollars, and the doctor was thus enabled to go on. here was an illustration of the advantage of training. the doctor was large, raw-boned, and at least six feet high, looking as if he could have crushed with a single blow the insignificant old indian, who was not much over five feet, and did not weigh more than half as much as the doctor; but, inured to this kind of toil, he carried double the load that any of the party did, while the doctor, who was habituated to a sedentary life, had all he could do, carrying no load whatever, to keep up with the indian. early in the afternoon we reached the summit of the first ascent, where we enjoyed, in addition to a good rest, a magnificent view of the puget sound valley, with mount olympus and the coast range for a background. here on this summit, too, munching our biscuit of hard bread and our dried beef, we enjoyed a refreshing breeze as we looked down on the beautiful plains of the nesqually, with its numerous clear and beautiful little lakes. there was nothing definite except forest--of which there was a great excess--lakes, and plains of limited area, the sound, and a great background of mountains. no habitations, farms, or villages were to be seen; not a sign of civilization or human life. after a good rest we pushed on, taking an easterly course, and keeping, or trying to keep, on the spur of the mountain; the forest was so thick, however, that this was next to an impossibility. we were not loth to go down into ravines in the hope of finding some water, for we needed it greatly. it was a long time, and we met with many disappointments, before we could find enough to quench our thirst. our progress was exceedingly slow on account of the undergrowth. at sundown we camped in the grand old forest, the location being chosen on account of some water in a partially dry ravine. the distance passed over from mishawl prairie we estimated at about ten or eleven miles. on good roads thirty miles would have wearied us much less. we started early the next morning, and for a time tried to keep the high ground, but found it so difficult that we finally turned down to the right, and came upon the nesqually river about the middle of the afternoon. there was no material difference in the undergrowth, but there was an advantage gained in having plenty of water to quench our thirst. we made about ten miles this day, and camped about sundown. there seemed nothing but forest before us; dark, gloomy forest, remarkable for large trees, and its terrible solitude. but few living things were to be seen. the nesqually is a very wide muddy torrent, fordable in places where the stream is much divided by islands. we already here began to suffer from the loss of appetite, which was to us such a difficulty throughout the entire trip. even the four crackers and two ounces of dried beef, which was our daily limit, we found ourselves unable to master, and yet so much was necessary to keep up our strength. i have never been able to settle in my mind whether this was due to the sameness of the food or the great fatigue we underwent. the third morning we made an early start, and followed up the stream in almost a due east direction all day until about five o'clock, when the doctor broke down, having been unable to eat anything during the day. with considerable cramming i managed to dispose of the most of my rations. we kept the north side of the river, and had no streams to cross; in fact, there did not appear to be any streams on either side putting into the river. the valley seemed several miles in width, densely timbered, and the undergrowth a complete thicket. not more than ten miles were made by us. just before we stopped for the night, we passed through a patch of dead timber of perhaps acres, with an abundance of blackberries. opposite our camp, on the south side of the river, there was the appearance of quite a tributary coming in from the southeast. we did not get started until about eleven o'clock on the fourth morning. after cutting up a deer which wah-pow-e-ty brought in early in the morning, we dried quite a quantity of it by the fire. as we anticipated, it proved of much assistance, for we already saw that six days would be a very short time in which to make the trip. by night we reached a muddy tributary coming in from the north, and evidently having its source in the melting snows of rainier. the summit of the mountain was visible from our camp, and seemed close at hand; but night set in with promise of bad weather. the valley had become quite narrow. our camp was at the foot of a mountain spur several thousand feet high, and the river close at hand. the gloomy forest, the wild mountain scenery, the roaring of the river, and the dark overhanging clouds, with the peculiar melancholy sighing which the wind makes through a fir forest, gave to our camp at this point an awful grandeur. on the fifth morning the clouds were so threatening, and came down so low on the surrounding mountains, that we were at a loss what course to pursue--whether to follow up the main stream or the tributary at our camp, which evidently came from the nearest snow. we finally followed the main stream, which very soon turned in toward the mountain, the valley growing narrower, the torrent more and more rapid, and our progress slower and slower, especially when we were compelled to take to the timber. we often crossed the torrent, of which the water was intensely cold, in order to avoid the obstructions of the forest. sometimes, however, the stream was impassable, and then we often became so entangled in the thickets as almost to despair of farther advance. early in the evening we reached the foot of an immense glacier and camped. for several miles before camping the bed of the stream was paved with white granite bowlders, and the mountain gorge became narrower and narrower. the walls were in many places perpendicular precipices, thousands of feet high, their summits hid in the clouds. vast piles of snow were to be seen along the stream--the remains of avalanches--for earth, trees, and rocks were intermingled with the snow. as it was near night we camped, thinking it best to begin the ascent in the early morning; besides, the weather promised to become worse. the foliage of the pine-trees here was very dense, and on such a cloudy day it was dark as night in the forest. the limbs of the trees drooped upon the ground, a disposition evidently given to them by the snow, which must be late in disappearing in this region. we followed thus far the main branch of the nesqually, and here it emerged from an icy cavern at the foot of an immense glacier. the ice itself was of a dark-blue tinge. the water was white, and whenever i waded the torrent my shoes filled with gravel and sand. the walls of this immense mountain gorge were white granite, and, just where the glacier terminated, the immense vein of granite that was visible on both sides seemed to form a narrow throat to the great ravine, which is much wider both above and below. the water seems to derive its color from the disintegration of this granite.[ ] we made our camp under a pine of dense foliage, whose limbs at the outer end drooped near the ground. we made our cup of tea, and found the water boil at ° fahrenheit. night set in with a drizzling rain, and a more solitary, gloomy picture than we presented at that camp it is impossible to conceive. tired, hungry, dirty, clothes all in rags--the effects of our struggles with the brush--we were not the least happy; the solitude was oppressive. the entire party, except myself, dropped down and did not move unless obliged to. i went up to the foot of the glacier, and explored a little before night set in. i also tried to make a sketch of the view looking up the glacier; but i have never looked at it since without being forcibly reminded what a failure it is as a sketch. on the morning of the sixth day we set out again up the glacier. a drizzling rain prevailed through the night, and continued this morning. we had a little trouble in getting upon the glacier, as it terminated everywhere in steep faces that were very difficult to climb. once up, we did not meet with any obstructions or interruptions for several hours, although the slippery surface of the glacier, which formed inclined planes of about twenty degrees, made it very fatiguing with our packs. about noon the weather thickened; snow, sleet, and rain prevailed, and strong winds, blowing hither and thither, almost blinded us. the surface of the glacier, becoming steeper, began to be intersected by immense crevasses crossing our path, often compelling us to travel several hundred yards to gain a few feet. we finally resolved to find a camp. but getting off the glacier was no easy task. we found that the face of the lateral moraine was almost perpendicular, and composed of loose stones, sand, and gravel, furnishing a very uncertain foothold, besides being about fifty feet high. wah-pow-e-ty and i finally succeeded in getting up, and with the aid of the rope we assisted our companions to do the same. when we reached the top we were a little surprised to find that we had to go down-hill again to reach the mountain side. here a few stunted pines furnished us fuel and shelter, and we rested for the remainder of the day. i explored a little in the evening by ascending the ridge from the glacier, and discovered that it would be much the best route to pursue in ascending to the summit. when night set in, the solitude of our camp was very oppressive. we were near the limit of perpetual snow. the water for our tea we obtained from the melting of the ice near by. the atmosphere was very different from what it was below, and singularly clear when not obstructed by fog, rain, or snow. there were no familiar objects to enable one to estimate distance. when i caught a glimpse of the top of rainier through the clouds, i felt certain that we could reach it in three hours. the only living things to be seen were some animals, with regard to which we still labor under an error. these little creatures would make their appearance on the side of the mountain in sight of our camp, and feed upon herbage that grew on the soil where the snow left it bare. the moment anyone stirred from camp, a sound between a whistle and scream would break unexpectedly and from some unknown quarter, and immediately all the animals that were in sight would vanish in the earth. upon visiting the spot where they disappeared, we would find a burrow which was evidently the creatures' home. everywhere round the entrance we found great numbers of tracks, such as a lamb or kid would make. the animals that we saw were about the size of kids, and grazed and moved about so much like them, that, taken in connection with the tracks we saw, we jumped at once to the conclusion that they were mountain sheep, of which we all had heard a great deal, but none of our party had ever seen any. my report of these animals, which was published in the _washington republican_ on our return, was severely ridiculed by some of the naturalists who were hunting for undescribed insects and animals in that country at the time. we are still at a loss to understand the habits of the creatures, and to reconcile the split hoofs which the tracks indicated with their burrow in the earth.[ ] on the following morning--the seventh day from our camp on the mishawl--the sky showed signs of clear weather, and we began the ascent of the main peak. until about noon we were enveloped in clouds, and only occasionally did we get a glimpse of the peak. soon after midday we reached suddenly a colder atmosphere, and found ourselves all at once above the clouds, which were spread out smooth and even as a sea, above which appeared the snowy peaks of st. helens, mount adams, and mount hood, looking like pyramidal icebergs above an ocean. at first we could not see down through the clouds into the valleys. above, the atmosphere was singularly clear, and the reflection of the sun upon the snow very powerful. the summit of rainier seemed very close at hand. about two o'clock in the afternoon the clouds rolled away like a scroll; in a very short time they had disappeared, and the cascade range lay before us in all its greatness. the view was too grand and extensive to be taken in at once, or in the short time we had to observe. the entire scene, with few exceptions, was covered with forests, with here and there barren rocky peaks that rose up out of the ridges; now and then a mountain lake, much more blue than the sky, and the nesqually, winding like a thread of silver through the dark forests. from the foot of the glacier for several miles the bed of the river was very white, from the granite bowlders that covered the bed of the stream. the water, too, was of a decidedly chalkier color near its source. we had no time, however, to study the beauties that lay before us. we had already discovered that there was no telling from appearances how far we had to go. the travel was very difficult; the surface of the snow was porous in some places, and at each step we sunk to our knees. carroll and the indian gave out early in the afternoon, and returned to camp. the doctor began to lag behind. dogue stuck close to me. between four and five o'clock we reached a very difficult point. it proved to be the crest of the mountain, where the comparatively smooth surface was much broken up, and inaccessible pinnacles of ice and deep crevasses interrupted our progress. it was not only difficult to go ahead, but exceedingly dangerous; a false step, or the loss of a foot-hold, would have been certain destruction. dogue was evidently alarmed, for every time that i was unable to proceed, and turned back to find another passage, he would say, "_i guess, lieutenant, we petter go pack._" finally we reached what may be called the top, for although there were points higher yet,[ ] the mountain spread out comparatively flat, and it was much easier to get along. the soldier threw himself down exhausted, and said he could go no farther. the doctor was not in sight. i went on to explore by myself, but i returned in a quarter of an hour without my hat, fully satisfied that nothing more could be done. it was after six o'clock, the air was very cold, and the wind blew fiercely, so that in a second my hat which it carried away was far beyond recovery. the ice was forming in my canteen, and to stay on the mountain at such a temperature was to freeze to death, for we brought no blankets with us, and we could not delay, as it would be impossible to return along the crest of the mountain after dark. when i returned to where i had left the soldier, i found the doctor there also, and after a short consultation we decided to return. returning was far easier and more rapid than going. the snow was much harder and firmer, and we passed over in three hours, coming down, what required ten in going up. we were greatly fatigued by the day's toil, and the descent was not accomplished without an occasional rest of our weary limbs. in one place the snow was crusted over, and for a short distance the mountain was very steep, and required the skillful use of the stick to prevent our going much faster than we desired. the soldier lost his footing, and rolled helplessly to the foot of the declivity, thirty or forty yards distant, and his face bore the traces of the scratching for many a day after, as if he had been through a bramble-bush. we found the indian and carroll in the camp. the latter had a long story to tell of his wanderings to find camp, and both stated that the fatigue was too much for them. there was no complaint on the part of any of us about the rarity of the atmosphere. the doctor attributed to this cause the fact that he could not go but a few yards at a time, near the summit, without resting; but i am inclined to think this was due to our exhaustion. my breathing did not seem to be in the least affected. we were much disappointed not to have had more time to explore the summit of the mountain. we had, however, demonstrated the feasibility of making the ascent. had we started at dawn of day we should have had plenty of time for the journey. from what i saw i should say the mountain top was a ridge perhaps two miles in length and nearly half a mile in width, with an angle about half-way, and depressions between the angle and each end of the ridge which give to the summit the appearance of three small peaks as seen from the east or west. when viewed from north or south, a rounded summit is all that can be seen; while viewed from positions between the cardinal points of the compass, the mountain generally has the appearance of two peaks. the night was very cold and clear after our return. we had some idea of making another ascent; but an investigation into the state of our provisions, together with the condition of the party generally, determined us to begin our return on the morning of the eighth day. the two soldiers had eaten all their bread but one cracker each. the doctor and i had enough left, so that by a redistribution we had four crackers each, with which to return over a space that had required seven days of travel coming. we, of course, expected to be a shorter time getting back; but let it be ever so short, our prospect for something to eat was proportionately much more limited. we had more meat than bread, thanks to the deer the indian had killed, and we depended greatly on his killing more game for us going back: but this dependence, too, was cut off; the indian was snow-blind, and needed our help to guide him. his groans disturbed us during the night, and what was our astonishment in the morning to find his eyelids closed with inflammation, and so swollen that he looked as if he had been in a free fight and got the worst of it. he could not have told a deer from a stump the length of his little old rifle. our camp was about , or , feet below the last visible shrub; water boiled at °, and, according to an approximate scale we had with us, this indicated an elevation of , feet. we estimated the highest peak to be over , feet high. i greatly regretted not being able to get the boiling-point on the top, but it was impossible to have had a fire in such a wind as prevailed round the summit. as we returned we had more leisure to examine and clearer weather to see the glacier than we had coming up. there was no medial moraine; but an icy ridge parallel to the lateral moraines, and about midway between them, extending as far as we ascended the glacier. the lateral moraines were not continuous, but were interrupted by the walls of the spurs where they projected into the glacier; between these points the lateral moraines existed. the glacier sloped away from the ridge to the moraines, more or less sharply, and it was no easy matter to get off the ice, owing to the steepness of the moraine. the ice melted by reflection from the face of the moraine, and formed a difficult crevasse between it and the glacier. bowlders of every shape and size were scattered over the face of the glacier. large ones were propped up on pinnacles of ice; these were evidently too thick for the sun to heat through. the small bowlders were sunk more or less deeply, and surrounded by water in the hot sun; but they evidently froze fast again at night. the noise produced by the glacier was startling and strange. one might suppose the mountain was breaking loose, particularly at night. although, so far as stillness was concerned, there was no difference between day and night, at night the noise seemed more terrible. it was a fearful crashing and grinding that was going on, where the granite was powdered that whitened the river below, and where the bowlders were polished and partially rounded. the great stillness and solitude were also very oppressive; no familiar sounds; nothing except the whistle of the animal before mentioned and the noise of the glacier's motion was to be heard, and if these had not occurred at intervals the solitude would have been still more oppressive. we were glad to get down again to the nesqually, where we could hear its roar and see its rushing waters. the other members of the party were so tired and worn, however, that they seemed to observe but little, and as we were now on our homeward way, their thoughts were set only on our camp on the mishawl, with its provisions and promise of rest. the first day we passed two of the camps we had made coming up, and reached a point where we remembered to have seen a great quantity of blackberries. it was quite dark by the time we reached the little spot of dead timber--which seems to be the favorite haunt of the creeping bramble in this country--and to gather our supper of berries we built a fire at the foot of a large dead tree. speedily the flames were climbing to the top of the withered branches, and casting a cheerful light for a hundred yards round. but what we found very convenient for gathering berries proved to be a great annoyance when we wanted to sleep. during the night we were constantly moving our place of rest, at first on account of the falling embers, and finally for fear of the tree itself. blackberries are refreshing so far as the palate is concerned; but they are not very nourishing. we took our breakfast on them, and continued down the nesqually from six in the morning until six in the evening, traveling slowly because of the difficult undergrowth and our worn-out and exhausted condition. we passed another of our camps, and finally stopped at what evidently had been an indian camp. the cedar bark, always to be found in such places, we anticipated would make a shelter for us in case of rain, which the clouds promised us. no rain fell, however, and we resumed our march, continuing down the river five or six miles farther than where we first struck it, to a point where the hills came close up and overhung the water. there we camped, expecting that an easy march on the morrow would enable us to reach our camp on the mishawl. we ate our last morsel, and the next morning i was awakened by the conversation of the two soldiers. they were evidently discussing the subject of hunger, for the irishman said: "i've often seen the squaws coming about the cook-house picking the pitaties out of the slop-barrel, an' i thought it was awful; but i giss i'd do it mesilf this mornin'." the morning of the eleventh day we left the nesqually to cross over to the mishawl, and traveled on the mountain all day, until we reached the stream at night completely exhausted. we should have stopped sooner than we did, but we were almost perishing with thirst, not having had any water since we left the nesqually in the morning. what we took along in our canteens was exhausted in the early part of the day. we were not more than two miles from the camp in the prairie, and notwithstanding that we had had nothing to eat all day, except a few berries we had picked by the way, we were so exhausted that we lay down to sleep as soon as we had quenched our thirst. we started up-stream the next morning, thinking we had reached the mishawl below our camp; but soon discovering our mistake, we turned down. at this point the irishman's heart sunk within him, he was so exhausted. thinking we were lost, he wanted to lie down in the stream and "drownd" himself. he was assured that we should soon be in camp, and we arrived there very soon after, before the men left in charge of the horses were up. our first thought was of something to eat. i cautioned all about eating much at first; but from subsequent results am inclined to think my advice was not heeded. i contented myself with a half cracker, a little butter, and weak coffee; and an hour after, when i began to feel the beneficial effects of what i had eaten, i took a little more substantial meal, but refrained from eating heartily. after a short rest we caught our horses, and the doctor and i rode into steilacoom, where we arrived after a hard ride late in the afternoon. as we approached the post, we met on the road a number of the inhabitants with whom we were well acquainted, and who did not recognize us. nor were we surprised when we got a glimpse of our faces in a glass. haggard and sunburnt, nearly every familiar feature had disappeared. since the loss of my hat, my head-dress was the sleeve of a red flannel shirt, tied into a knot at the elbow, with the point at the arm-pit for a visor. our clothes were in rags; one of the doctor's pantaloon-legs had entirely disappeared, and he had improvised a substitute out of a coffee-sack. in our generally dilapidated condition none of our acquaintances recognized us until we got to the post. we passed for indians until we arrived there, where we were received by the officers with a shout at our ludicrous appearance. they were all sitting under the oak-trees in front of quarters, discussing what had probably become of us, and proposing means for our rescue, when we came up. i felt the effects of the trip for many days, and did not recover my natural condition for some weeks. the doctor and i went to the village next morning, where the people were startled at our emaciated appearance. we found that the doctor had lost twenty-one pounds in weight in fourteen days, and i had lost fourteen pounds in the same time. the doctor, while we were in the village, was taken with violent pains in his stomach, and returned to his post quite sick. he did not recover his health again for three months. the two soldiers went into the hospital immediately on their return, and i learned that for the remainder of their service they were in the hospital nearly all the time. four or five years after, carroll applied to me for a certificate on which to file an application for a pension, stating that he had not been well since his trip to the mountain. the indian had an attack of gastritis, and barely escaped with his life after a protracted sickness. i attribute my own escape from a lingering illness to the precautions i took in eating when satisfying the first cravings of hunger, on our return to camp. we are not likely to have any competitors in this attempt to explore the summit of mount rainier. packwood and mcallister, two citizens of pierce county, washington territory, explored up the nesqually, and crossed over to the head of the cowlitz river, and thence by what was called cowlitz pass (since called packwood pass), to the east side of the mountains, searching for a trail to the mining regions of the upper columbia. more recently, surveyors in the employ of the pacific railroad company have been surveying through the same route for a railway passage. when the locomotive is heard in that region some day, when american enterprise has established an ice-cream saloon at the foot of the glacier, and sherry-cobblers may be had at twenty-five cents half-way up to the top of the mountain, attempts to ascend that magnificent snow-peak will be quite frequent. but many a long year will pass away before roads are sufficiently good to induce any one to do what we did in the summer of . footnotes: [ ] his name is honored in wapowety cleaver overlooking the kautz glacier. [ ] i have no doubt that the south branch of the nachess, which flows to the east into the columbia, and that the puyallup and white rivers, which flow west into puget sound, have similar sources in glaciers, from the fact that in july they are all of a similar character with the nesqually, muddy, white torrents, at a time when little rain has fallen for months.--kautz. [ ] the burrow was made by the marmot and the split-hoof tracks in the loose earth were made by mountain goats. [ ] he here gives evidence that he had not reached the summit. [illustration: general hazard stevens.] vi. first successful ascent, by general hazard stevens general hazard stevens was born at newport, rhode island, on june , . his father was major general isaac i. stevens, and his mother, margaret (hazard) stevens, was a granddaughter of colonel daniel lyman of the revolution. in and , while the son was only thirteen years of age, he accompanied his father, then the first governor of washington territory, on treaty-making expeditions among the indian tribes. later he accompanied his father into the union army as an officer on his father's staff. he was severely wounded in the same battle where his father was killed while leading the charge at chantilly, september , . hazard stevens continued in the army, and at the end of the war he was mustered out as a brigadier general of volunteers. he then returned to washington territory and went to work to support his mother and sisters. on august , , he and p. b. van trump made the first successful ascent of mount rainier. in , he followed the other members of the family back to boston where he remained until his mother's death, a few months ago. he then returned to puget sound, and is now a successful farmer near olympia. his companion on the ascent, p. b. van trump, remained in washington. for a number of years he was a ranger at indian henry's hunting ground in the mount rainier national park. there he was a quaint and attractive figure to all visitors. in , he returned east to live among kinsfolk in new york state. the names of both stevens and van trump have been generously bestowed upon glaciers, creeks, ridges, and cañons within the mount rainier national park. general stevens prefers to call the mountain takhoma. the full account of the ascent was published by him under the title of "the ascent of mount takhoma" in the atlantic monthly for november, . it is here reproduced by permission of the editor of that magazine. mr. van trump made several ascents after that first one, and in general stevens also made a second ascent. he searched in vain for the relics he had deposited at the summit thirty-five years earlier. the rocks that were bare in were under snow and ice in . when vancouver, in , penetrated the straits of fuca and explored the unknown waters of the mediterranean of the pacific, wherever he sailed, from the gulf of georgia to the farthest inlet of puget sound, he beheld the lofty, snow-clad barrier range of the cascades stretching north and south and bounding the eastern horizon. towering at twice the altitude of all others, at intervals of a hundred miles there loomed up above the range three majestic, snowy peaks that "like giants stand to sentinel enchanted land." in the matter-of-fact spirit of a british sailor of his time, he named these sublime monuments of nature in honor of three lords of the english admiralty, hood, rainier, and baker. of these rainier is the central, situated about half-way between the columbia river and the line of british columbia, and is by far the loftiest and largest. its altitude is , feet, while hood is , feet, and baker is , feet high. the others, too, are single cones, while rainier, or takhoma,[ ] is an immense mountain-mass with three distinct peaks, an eastern, a northern, and a southern; the two last extending out and up from the main central dome, from the summit of which they stand over a mile distant, while they are nearly two miles apart from each other. takhoma overlooks puget sound from olympia to victoria, one hundred and sixty miles. its snow-clad dome is visible from portland on the willamette, one hundred and twenty miles south, and from the table-land of walla walla, one hundred and fifty miles east. a region two hundred and fifty miles across, including nearly all of washington territory, part of oregon, and part of idaho, is commanded in one field of vision by this colossus among mountains. takhoma had never been ascended. it was a virgin peak. the superstitious fears and traditions of the indians, as well as the dangers of the ascent, had prevented their attempting to reach the summit, and the failure of a gallant and energetic officer, whose courage and hardihood were abundantly shown during the rebellion, had in general estimation proved it insurmountable. for two years i had resolved to ascend takhoma, but both seasons the dense smoke overspreading the whole country had prevented the attempt. mr. philomon beecher van trump, humorous, generous, whole-souled, with endurance and experience withal, for he had roughed it in the mines, and a poetic appreciation of the picturesque and the sublime, was equally eager to scale the summit. mr. edward t. coleman, an english gentleman of victoria, a landscape artist and an alpine tourist, whose reputed experience in switzerland had raised a high opinion of his ability above the snow-line, completed the party. olympia, the capital of washington territory, is a beautiful, maple-embowered town of some two thousand inhabitants, situated at the southernmost extremity of puget sound, and west of takhoma, distant in an air line seventy-five miles. the intervening country is covered with dense fir forests, almost impenetrable to the midday sun, and obstructed with fallen trees, upturned roots and stumps, and a perfect jungle of undergrowth, through which the most energetic traveler can accomplish but eight or nine miles a day. it was advisible to gain the nearest possible point by some trail, before plunging into the unbroken forest. the nisqually river, which rises on the southern and western slopes of takhoma, and empties into the sound a few miles north of olympia, offered the most direct and natural approach. ten years before, moreover, a few enterprising settlers had blazed out a trail across the cascade range, which followed the nisqually nearly up to its source, thence deflected south to the cowlitz river, and pursued this stream in a northeastern course to the summit of the range, thus turning the great mountain by a wide circuit. the best-informed mountain men represented the approaches on the south and southeast as by far the most favorable. the nisqually-cowlitz trail, then, seemed much the best, for the nisqually, heading in the south and southwest slopes, and the cowlitz, in the southeastern, afforded two lines of approach, by either of which the distance to the mountain, after leaving the trail, could not exceed thirty miles. one august afternoon, van trump and i drove out to yelm prairie, thirty miles east of olympia, and on the nisqually river. we dashed rapidly on over a smooth, hard, level road, traversing wide reaches of prairie, passing under open groves of oaks and firs, and plunging through masses of black, dense forest in ever-changing variety. the moon had risen as we emerged upon yelm prairie; takhoma, bathed in cold, white, spectral light from summit to base, appeared startlingly near and distinct. our admiration was not so noisy as usual. perhaps a little of dread mingled with it. in another hour we drove nearly across the plain and turned into a lane which conducted us up a beautiful rising plateau, crowned with a noble grove of oaks and overlooking the whole prairie. a comfortable, roomy house with a wide porch nestled among the trees, and its hospitable owner, mr. james longmire, appeared at the door and bade us enter. the next morning we applied to mr. longmire for a guide, and for his advice as to our proposed trip. he was one of the few who marked out the nisqually-cowlitz trail years ago. he had explored the mountains about takhoma as thoroughly, perhaps, as any other white man. one of the earliest settlers, quiet, self-reliant, sensible, and kindly, a better counselor than he could not have been found. the trail, he said, had not been traveled for four years, and was entirely illegible to eyes not well versed in woodcraft, and it would be folly for any one to attempt to follow it who was not thoroughly acquainted with the country. he could not leave his harvest, and moreover in three weeks he was to cross the mountains for a drove of cattle. his wife, too, quietly discouraged his going. she described his appearance on his return from previous mountain trips, looking as haggard and thin as though he had just risen from a sick-bed. she threw out effective little sketches of toil, discomfort, and hardship incident to mountain travel, and dwelt upon the hard fare. the bountiful country breakfast heaped before us, the rich cream, fresh butter and eggs, snowy, melting biscuits, and broiled chicken, with rich, white gravy, heightened the effect of her words. but at length, when it appeared that no one else who knew the trail could be found, mr. longmire yielded to our persuasions, and consented to conduct us as far as the trail led, and to procure an indian guide before leaving us to our own resources. as soon as we returned home we went with mr. coleman to his room to see a few indispensable equipments he had provided, in order that we might procure similar ones. the floor was literally covered with his traps, and he exhibited them one by one, expatiating upon their various uses. there was his ground-sheet, a large gum blanket equally serviceable to mr. coleman as a tent in camp and a bathtub at the hotel. there was a strong rope to which we were all to be tied when climbing the snow-fields, so that if one fell into a chasm the others could hold him up. the "creepers" were a clumsy, heavy arrangement of iron spikes made to fasten on the foot with chains and straps, in order to prevent slipping on the ice. he had an ice-axe for cutting steps, a spirit-lamp for making tea on the mountains, green goggles for snow-blindness, deer's fat for the face, alpine staffs, needles and thread, twine, tacks, screws, screwdriver, gimlet, file, several medical prescriptions, two boards for pressing flowers, sketching materials, and in fact every article that mr. coleman in his extensive reading had found used or recommended by travelers. every one of these he regarded as indispensable. the alpine staff was, he declared, most important of all, a great assistance in traveling through the woods as well as on the ice; and he illustrated on his hands and knees how to cross a crevasse in the ice on two staffs. this interview naturally brought to mind the characteristic incident related of packwood, the mountain man who, as hunter and prospector, had explored the deepest recesses of the cascades. he had been engaged to guide a railroad surveying party across the mountains, and just as the party was about to start he approached the chief and demanded an advance to enable him to buy his outfit for the trip. "how much do you want?" asked the chief, rather anxiously, lest packwood should overdraw his prospective wages. "well, about two dollars and a half," was the reply; and at the camp-fire that evening, being asked if he had bought his outfit, packwood, thrusting his hand into his pocket, drew forth and exhibited with perfect seriousness and complacency his entire outfit,--a jack-knife and a plug of tobacco. half a dozen carriages rattled gayly out of olympia in the cool of the morning, filled with a laughing, singing, frolicking bevy of young ladies and gentlemen. they were the takhoma party starting on their adventurous trip, with a chosen escort accompanying them to their first camp. they rested several hours at longmire's during the heat of the day, and the drive was then continued seven miles farther, to the lacamas, an irregular-shaped prairie two miles in length by half a mile in breadth. here live two of mr. longmire's sons. their farms form the last settlement, and at the gate of mr. elkane longmire's house the road ends. a wooded knoll overlooking the prairie, with a spring of water at its foot, was selected as the camp-ground. some of the party stretched a large sail between the trees as a tent, others watered and fed the horses, and others busied themselves with the supper. two eager sportsmen started after grouse, while their more practical companions bought half a dozen chickens, and had them soon dressed and sputtering over the fire. the shades of night were falling as the party sat down on the ground and partook of a repast fit for the olympians, and with a relish sharpened by the long journey and a whole day's fast. early in the morning mr. longmire arrived in camp with two mules and a pack-horse, and our mountain outfit was rapidly made up into suitable bales and packed upon the horse and one of the mules, the other mule being reserved for longmire's own riding. we assembled around the breakfast with spirits as gay and appetites as sharp as ever. then, with many good-bys and much waving of handkerchiefs, the party broke up. four roughly clad pedestrians moved off in single file, leading their pack animals, and looking back at every step to catch the last glimpse of the bright garments and fluttering cambrics, while the carriages drove rapidly down the road and disappeared in the dark, sullen forest. we stepped off briskly, following a dim trail in an easterly course, and crossing the little prairie entered the timber. after winding over hilly ground for about three miles, we descended into the nisqually bottom and forded a fine brook at the foot of the hill. for the next ten miles our route lay across the bottom, and along the bank of the river, passing around logs, following old, dry beds of the river and its lateral sloughs, ankle-deep in loose sand, and forcing our way through dense jungles of vine-maple. the trail was scarcely visible, and much obstructed by fallen trees and underbrush, and its difficulties were aggravated by the bewildering tracks of indians who had lately wandered about the bottom in search of berries or rushes. we repeatedly missed the trail, and lost hours in retracing our steps and searching for the right course. the weather was hot and sultry, and rendered more oppressive by the dense foliage; myriads of gnats and mosquitoes tormented us and drove our poor animals almost frantic; and our thirst, aggravated by the severe and unaccustomed toil, seemed quenchless. at length we reached the ford of the nisqually. directly opposite, a perpendicular bluff of sand and gravel in alternate strata rose to the height of two hundred and fifty feet, its base washed by the river and its top crowned with firs. the stream was a hundred yards wide, waist-deep, and very rapid. its waters were icy cold, and of a milk-white hue. this color is the characteristic of glacial rivers. the impalpable powder of thousands of tons of solid rocks ground up beneath the vast weight and resistless though imperceptible flow of huge glaciers, remains in solution in these streams, and colors them milk-white to the sea. leading the animals down the bank and over a wide, dry bar of cobblestones, we stood at the brink of the swift, turbulent river, and prepared to essay its passage. coleman mounted behind van trump on the little saddle-mule, his long legs dangling nearly to the ground, one hand grasping his alpine staff, the other the neck-rope of the pack-mule, which longmire bestrode. longmire led in turn the pack-horse, behind whose bulky load was perched the other member of the party. the cavalcade, linked together in this order, had but just entered the stream when coleman dropped the neckrope he was holding. the mule, bewildered by the rush and roar of the waters, turned directly down-stream, and in another instant our two pack animals, with their riders, would have been swept away in the furious rapids, had not longmire with great presence of mind turned their erratic course in the right direction and safely brought them to the opposite shore. following the bottom along the river for some distance, we climbed up the end of the bluff already mentioned, by a steep zigzag trail, and skirted along its brink for a mile. far below us on the right rushed the nisqually. on the left the bluff fell off in a steep hillside thickly clothed with woods and underbrush, and at its foot plowed the owhap, a large stream emptying into the nisqually just below our ford. another mile through the woods brought us out upon the mishell prairie, a beautiful, oval meadow of a hundred acres, embowered in the tall, dense fir forest, with a grove of lofty, branching oaks at its farther extremity, and covered with green grass and bright flowers. it takes its name from the mishell river, which empties into the nisqually a mile above the prairie. we had marched sixteen miles. the packs were gladly thrown off beneath a lofty fir; the animals were staked out to graze. a spring in the edge of the woods afforded water, and while mr. coleman busied himself with his pipe, his flask, his note-book, his sketch-book, and his pouch of multifarious odds and ends, the other members of the party performed the duties incident to camp-life: made the fire, brought water, spread the blankets, and prepared supper. the flags attached to our alpine staffs waved gayly overhead, and the sight of their bright folds fluttering in the breeze deepened the fixed resolve to plant them on takhoma's hoary head, and made failure seem impossible. mr. coleman announced the altitude of mishell prairie as eight hundred feet by barometer. by an unlucky fall the thermometer was broken. the march was resumed early next morning. as we passed the lofty oaks at the end of the little prairie, "on that tree," said longmire, pointing out one of the noblest, "maxon's company hanged two indians in the war of ' . ski-hi and his band, after many depredations upon the settlements, were encamped on the mishell, a mile distant, in fancied security, when maxon and his men surprised them and cut off every soul except the two prisoners whom they hanged here." for eight miles the trail led through thick woods, and then, after crossing a wide "burn," past a number of deserted indian wigwams, where another trail from the nisqually plains joined ours, it descended a gradual slope, traversed a swampy thicket and another mile of heavy timber, and debouched on the mishell river. this is a fine, rapid, sparkling stream, knee-deep and forty feet wide, rippling and dashing over a gravelly bed with clear, cold, transparent water. the purity of the clear water, so unlike the yeasty nisqually, proves that the mishell is no glacial river. rising in an outlying range to the northwest of takhoma, it flows in a southwest course to its confluence with the nisqually near our previous night's camp. we unsaddled for the noon-rest. van trump went up the stream, fishing; longmire crossed to look out the trail ahead, and coleman made tea solitaire. an hour passed, and longmire returned. "the trail is blind," said he, "and we have no time to lose." just then van trump returned; and the little train was soon in readiness to resume the tramp. longmire rode his mule across the stream, telling us to drive the pack-animals after him and follow by a convenient log near by. as the mule attempted to climb a low place in the opposite bank, which offered an apparently easy exit from the river, his hind legs sank in a quicksand, he sat down quickly, if not gracefully, and, not fancying that posture, threw himself clear under water. his dripping rider rose to his feet, flung the bridle-rein over his arm, and, springing up the bank at a more practicable point, strode along the trail with as little delay and as perfect unconcern as though an involuntary ducking was of no more moment than climbing over a log. the trail was blind. longmire scented it through thickets of salal, fern, and underbrush, stumbling over roots, vines, and hollows hidden in the rank vegetation, now climbing huge trunks that the animals could barely scramble over, and now laboriously working his way around some fallen giant and traveling two hundred yards in order to gain a dozen yards on the course. the packs, continually jammed against trees and shaken loose by this rough traveling, required frequent repacking--no small task. at the very top of a high, steep hill, up which we had laboriously zigzagged shortly after crossing the mishell, the little packhorse, unable to sustain the weight of the pack, which had shifted all to one side, fell and rolled over and over to the bottom. bringing up the goods and chattels one by one on our own shoulders to the top of the hill, we replaced the load and started again. the course was in a southerly direction, over high rolling ground of good clay soil, heavily timbered, with marshy swales at intervals, to the nisqually river again, a distance of twelve miles. we encamped on a narrow flat between the high hill just descended and the wide and noisy river, near an old ruined log-hut, the former residence of a once famed indian medicine man, who, after the laudable custom of his race, had expiated with his life his failure to cure a patient. early next morning we continued our laborious march along the right bank of the nisqually. towards noon we left the river, and after thridding in an easterly course a perfect labyrinth of fallen timber for six miles, and forcing our way with much difficulty through the tangled jungle of an extensive vine-maple swamp, at length crossed silver creek and gladly threw off the packs for an hour's rest. a short distance after crossing silver creek the trail emerged upon more open ground, and for the first time the nisqually valley lay spread out in view before us. on the left stretched a wall of steep, rocky mountains, standing parallel to the course of the river and extending far eastward, growing higher and steeper and more rugged as it receded from view. at the very extremity of this range takhoma loomed aloft, its dome high above all others and its flanks extending far down into the valley, and all covered, dome and flanks, with snow of dazzling white, in striking contrast with the black basaltic mountains about it. startlingly near it looked to our eyes, accustomed to the restricted views and gloom of the forest. after our noon rest we continued our journey up the valley, twisting in and out among the numerous trunks of trees that encumbered the ground, and after several hours of tedious trudging struck our third camp on copper creek, the twin brother to silver creek, just at dusk. we were thoroughly tired, having made twenty miles in thirteen hours of hard traveling. starting at daylight next morning, we walked two miles over rough ground much broken by ravines, and then descended into the bed of the nisqually at the mouth of goat creek, another fine stream which empties here. we continued our course along the river bed, stumbling over rocky bars and forcing our way through dense thickets of willow, for some distance, then ascended the steep bank, went around a high hill over four miles of execrable trail, and descended to the river again, only two miles above goat creek. at this point the takhoma branch or north fork joins the nisqually. this stream rises on the west side of takhoma, is nearly as large as the main river, and like it shows its glacial origin by its milk-white water and by its icy cold, terribly swift and furious torrent. crossing the takhoma branch, here thirty yards wide, we kept up the main river, crossing and recrossing the stream frequently, and toiling over rocky bars for four miles, a distance which consumed five hours, owing to the difficulties of the way. we then left the nisqually, turning to the right and traveling in a southerly course, and followed up the bed of a swampy creek for half a mile, then crossed a level tract much obstructed with fallen timber, then ascended a burnt ridge, and followed it for two miles to a small, marshy prairie in a wide canyon or defile closed in by rugged mountains on either side, and camped beside a little rivulet on the east side of the prairie. this was bear prairie, the altitude of which by the barometer was feet. the canyon formed a low pass between the nisqually and cowlitz rivers, and the little rivulet near which we camped flowed into the latter stream. the whole region had been swept by fire: thousands of giant trunks stood blackened and lifeless, the picture of desolation. as we were reclining on the ground around the campfire, enjoying the calm and beatific repose which comes to the toil-worn mountaineer after his hearty supper, one of these huge trunks, after several warning creaks, came toppling and falling directly over our camp. all rushed to one side or another to avoid the impending crash. as one member of the party, hastily catching up in one hand a frying-pan laden with tin plates and cups, and in the other the camp kettle half full of boiling water, was scrambling away, his foot tripped in a blackberry vine and he fell outstretched at full length, the much-prized utensils scattering far and wide, while the falling tree came thundering down in the rear, doing no other damage, however, than burying a pair of blankets. the following day longmire and the writer went down the canyon to its junction with the cowlitz river, in search of a band of indians who usually made their headquarters at this point, and among whom longmire hoped to find some hunter familiar with the mountains who might guide us to the base of takhoma. the tiny rivulet as we descended soon swelled to a large and furious torrent, and its bed filled nearly the whole bottom of the gorge. the mountains rose on both sides precipitously, and the traces of land-slides which had gouged vast furrows down their sides were frequent. with extreme toil and difficulty we made our way, continually wading the torrent, clambering over broken masses of rock which filled its bed, or clinging to the steep hillsides, and reached the cowlitz at length after twelve miles of this fatiguing work, but only to find the indian camp deserted. further search, however, was rewarded by the discovery of a rude shelter formed of a few skins thrown over a framework of poles, beneath which sat a squaw at work upon a half-dressed deerskin. an infant and a naked child of perhaps four years lay on the ground near the fire in front. beside the lodge and quietly watching our approach, of which he alone seemed aware, stood a tall, slender indian clad in buckskin shirt and leggings, with a striped woolen breech-clout, and a singular head garniture which gave him a fierce and martial appearance. this consisted of an old military cap, the visor thickly studded with brassheaded nails, while a large circular brass article, which might have been the top of an oil-lamp, was fastened upon the crown. several eagle feathers stuck in the crown and strips of fur sewed upon the sides completed the edifice, which, notwithstanding its components, appeared imposing rather than ridiculous. a long hudson bay gun, the stock also ornamented with brass-headed tacks, lay in the hollow of the indian's shoulder. he received us with great friendliness, yet not without dignity, shaking hands and motioning us to a seat beneath the rude shelter, while his squaw hastened to place before us suspicious-looking cakes of dried berries, apparently their only food. after a moderate indulgence in this delicacy, longmire made known our wants. the indian spoke fluently the chinook jargon, that high-bred lingo invented by the old fur-traders. he called himself "sluiskin," and readily agreed to guide us to rainier, known to him only as takhoma, and promised to report at bear prairie the next day. it was after seven in the evening when we reached camp, thoroughly fagged. punctual to promise, sluiskin rode up at noon mounted upon a stunted indian pony, while his squaw and pappooses followed upon another even more puny and forlorn. after devouring an enormous dinner, evidently compensating for the rigors of a long fast, in reply to our inquiries he described the route he proposed to take to takhoma. pointing to the almost perpendicular height immediately back or east of our camp, towering three thousand feet or more overhead, the loftiest mountain in sight, "we go to the top of that mountain to-day," said he, "and to-morrow we follow along the high, backbone ridge of the mountains, now up, now down, first on one side and then on the other, a long day's journey, and at last, descending far down from the mountains into a deep valley, reach the base of takhoma." sluiskin illustrated his chinook with speaking signs and pantomime. he had frequently hunted the mountain sheep upon the snow-fields of takhoma, but had never ascended to the summit. it was impossible to do so, and he put aside as idle talk our expressed intention of making the ascent. we had already selected the indispensable articles for a week's tramp, a blanket apiece, the smallest coffee-pot and frying-pan, a scanty supply of bacon, flour, coffee, etc., and had made them up into suitable packs of forty pounds each, provided with slings like a knapsack, and had piled together under the lee of a huge fallen trunk our remaining goods. longmire, who although impatient to return home, where his presence was urgently needed, had watched and directed our preparations during the forenoon with kindly solicitude, now bade us good-by: mounted on one mule and leading the other, he soon disappeared down the trail on his lonely, homeward way. he left us the little pack-horse, thinking it would be quite capable of carrying our diminished outfit after our return from takhoma. sluiskin led the way. the load upon his shoulders was sustained by a broad band, passing over his head, upon which his heavy, brass-studded rifle, clasped in both hands, was poised and balanced. leaving behind the last vestige of trail, we toiled in single file slowly and laboriously up the mountain all the afternoon. the steepness of the ascent in many places required the use of both hand and foot in climbing, and the exercise of great caution to keep the heavy packs from dragging us over backwards. coleman lagged behind from the start, and at intervals his voice could be heard hallooing and calling upon us to wait. towards sunset we reached a level terrace, or bench, near the summit, gladly threw off our packs, and waited for coleman, who, we supposed, could not be far below. he not appearing, we hallooed again and again. no answer! we then sent sluiskin down the mountain to his aid. after an hour's absence the indian returned. he had descended, he said, a long distance, and at last caught sight of coleman. he was near the foot of the mountain, had thrown away his pack, blankets and all, and was evidently returning to camp. and sluiskin finished his account with expressions of contempt for the "cultus king george man." what was to be done? coleman carried in his pack all our bacon, our only supply of meat, except a few pounds of dried beef. he also had the barometer, the only instrument that had survived the jolts and tumbles of our rough trip. but, on the other hand, he had been a clog upon our march from the outset. he was evidently too infirm to endure the toil before us, and would not only be unable to reach, still less ascend takhoma, but might even impede and frustrate our own efforts. knowing that he would be safe in camp until our return, we hastily concluded to proceed without him, trusting to our rifles for a supply of meat. sluiskin led us along the side of the ridge in a southerly direction for two miles farther, to a well-sheltered, grassy hollow in the mountain-top, where he had often previously encamped. it was after dark when we reached this place. the usual spring had gone dry, and, parched with thirst we searched the gulches of the mountain-side for water an hour, but without success. at length the writer, recalling a scanty rill which trickled across their path a mile back, taking the coffee-pot and large canteen, retraced his steps, succeeded in filling these utensils after much fumbling in the dark and consequent delay, and returned to camp. he found van trump and the indian, anxious at the long delay, mounted on the crest of the ridge some two hundred yards from camp, waving torches and shouting lustily to direct his steps. the mosquitoes and flies came in clouds, and were terribly annoying. after supper of coffee and bread, we drank up the water, rolled ourselves in our blankets, and lay down under a tree with our flags floating from under the boughs overhead. hot as had been the day, the night was cold and frosty, owing, doubtless, to the altitude of our camp. at the earliest dawn next morning we were moving on without breakfast, and parched with thirst. sluiskin led us in a general course about north-northeast, but twisting to nearly every point of the compass, and climbing up and down thousands of feet from mountain to mountain, yet keeping on the highest backbone between the headwaters of the nisqually and cowlitz rivers. after several hours of this work we came to a well-sheltered hollow, one side filled with a broad bed of snow, at the foot of which nestled a tiny, tranquil lakelet, and gladly threw off our heavy packs, assuaged our thirst, and took breakfast,--bread and coffee again. early as it was, the chill of the frosty night still in the air, the mosquitoes renewed their attacks, and proved as innumerable and vexatious as ever. continuing our march, we crossed many beds of snow, and drank again and again from the icy rills which flowed out of them. the mountains were covered with stunted mountain-ash and low, stubby firs with short, bushy branches, and occasionally a few pines. many slopes were destitute of trees but covered with luxuriant grass and the greatest profusion of beautiful flowers of vivid hues. this was especially the case with the southern slopes, while the northern sides of the mountains were generally wooded. we repeatedly ate berries, and an hour afterwards ascended to where berries of the same kind were found scarcely yet formed. the country was much obscured with smoke from heavy fires which had been raging on the cowlitz the last two days. but when at length, after climbing for hours an almost perpendicular peak,--creeping on hands and knees over loose rocks, and clinging to scanty tufts of grass where a single slip would have sent us rolling a thousand feet down to destruction,--we reached the highest crest and looked over, we exclaimed that we were already well repaid for all our toil. nothing can convey an idea of the grandeur and ruggedness of the mountains. directly in front, and apparently not over two miles distant, although really twenty, old takhoma loomed up more gigantic than ever. we were far above the level of the lower snow-line on takhoma. the high peak upon which we clung seemed the central core or focus of all the mountains around, and on every side we looked down vertically thousands of feet, deep down into vast, terrible defiles, black and fir-clothed, which stretched away until lost in the distance and smoke. between them, separating one from another, the mountain-walls rose precipitously and terminated in bare, columnar peaks of black basaltic or volcanic rock, as sharp as needles. it seemed incredible that any human foot could have followed out the course we came, as we looked back upon it. after a few hours more of this climbing, we stood upon the summit of the last mountain-ridge that separated us from takhoma. we were in a saddle of the ridge; a lofty peak rose on either side. below us extended a long, steep hollow or gulch filled with snow, the farther extremity of which seemed to drop off perpendicularly into a deep valley or basin. across this valley, directly in front, filling up the whole horizon and view with an indescribable aspect of magnitude and grandeur, stood the old leviathan of mountains. the broad, snowy dome rose far among and above the clouds. the sides fell off in vertical steeps and fearful black walls of rock for a third of its altitude; lower down, vast, broad, gently sloping snow-fields surrounded the mountain, and were broken here and there by ledges or masses of the dark basaltic rock protruding above them. long, green ridges projected from this snow-belt at intervals, radiating from the mountain and extending many miles until lost in the distant forests. deep valleys lay between these ridges. each at its upper end formed the bed of a glacier, which closed and filled it up with solid ice. below the snow-line bright green grass with countless flowers, whose vivid scarlet, blue, and purple formed bodies of color in the distance, clothed the whole region of ridges and valleys, for a breadth of five miles. the beautiful balsam firs, about thirty feet in height, and of a purple, dark-green color, stood scattered over the landscape, now singly, now in groves, and now in long lines, as though planted in some well-kept park. farther down an unbroken fir forest surrounded the mountain and clad the lower portions of the ridges and valleys. in every sheltered depression or hollow lay beds of snow with tiny brooks and rivulets flowing from them. the glaciers terminated not gradually, but abruptly, with a wall of ice from one to five hundred feet high, from beneath which yeasty torrents burst forth and rushed roaring and tumbling down the valleys. the principal of these, far away on our left front, could be seen plunging over two considerable falls, half hidden in the forest, while the roar of waters was distinctly audible. at length we cautiously descended the snow-bed, and, climbing at least fifteen hundred feet down a steep but ancient land-slide by means of the bushes growing among the loose rocks, reached the valley, and encountered a beautiful, peaceful, limpid creek. van trump could not resist the temptation of unpacking his bundle, selecting one of his carefully preserved flies, and trying the stream for trout, but without a single rise. after an hour's rest and a hearty repast we resumed our packs, despite sluiskin's protests, who seemed tired out with his arduous day's toil and pleaded hard against traveling farther. crossing the stream, we walked through several grassy glades, or meadows, alternating with open woods. we soon came to the foot of one of the long ridges already described, and ascending it followed it for several miles through open woods, until we emerged upon the enchanting emerald and flowery meads which clothe these upper regions. halting upon a rising eminence in our course, and looking back, we beheld the ridge of mountains we had just descended stretching from east to west in a steep, rocky wall; a little to the left, a beautiful lake, evidently the source of the stream just crossed, which we called clear creek, and glimpses of which could be seen among the trees as it flowed away to the right, down a rapidly descending valley along the foot of the lofty mountain-wall. beyond the lake again, still farther to the left, the land also subsided quickly. it was at once evident that the lake was upon a summit, or divide, between the waters of the nisqually and cowlitz rivers. the ridge which we were ascending lay north and south, and led directly up to the mountain. we camped, as the twilight fell upon us, in an aromatic grove of balsam firs. a grouse, the fruit of sluiskin's rifle, broiled before the fire, and impartially divided gave a relish to the dry bread and coffee. after supper we reclined upon our blankets in front of the bright, blazing fire, well satisfied. the indian, when starting from bear prairie, had evidently deemed our intention of ascending takhoma too absurd to deserve notice. the turning back of mr. coleman only deepened his contempt for our prowess. but his views had undergone a change with the day's march. the affair began to look serious to him, and now in chinook, interspersed with a few words of broken english and many signs and gesticulations, he began a solemn exhortation and warning against our rash project. takhoma, he said, was an enchanted mountain, inhabited by an evil spirit, who dwelt in a fiery lake on its summit. no human being could ascend it or even attempt its ascent, and survive. at first, indeed, the way was easy. the broad snow-fields, over which he had so often hunted the mountain goat, interposed no obstacle, but above them the rash adventurer would be compelled to climb up steeps of loose, rolling rocks, which would turn beneath his feet and cast him head-long into the deep abyss below. the upper snow-slopes, too, were so steep that not even a goat, far less a man, could get over them. and he would have to pass below lofty walls and precipices whence avalanches of snow and vast masses of rocks were continually falling; and these would inevitably bury the intruder beneath their ruins. moreover, a furious tempest continually swept the crown of the mountain, and the luckless adventurer, even if he wonderfully escaped the perils below, would be torn from the mountain and whirled through the air by this fearful blast. and the awful being upon the summit, who would surely punish the sacrilegious attempt to invade his sanctuary,--who could hope to escape his vengeance? many years ago, he continued, his grandfather, a great chief and warrior, and a mighty hunter, had ascended part way up the mountain, and had encountered some of these dangers, but he fortunately turned back in time to escape destruction; and no other indian had ever gone so far. finding that his words did not produce the desired effect, he assured us that, if we persisted in attempting the ascent, he would wait three days for our return, and would then proceed to olympia and inform our friends of our death; and he begged us to give him a paper (a written note) to take to them, so that they might believe his story. sluiskin's manner during this harangue was earnest in the extreme, and he was undoubtedly sincere in his forebodings. after we had retired to rest, he kept up a most dismal chant, or dirge, until late in the night. the dim, white, spectral mass towering so near, the roar of the torrents below us, and the occasional thunder of avalanches, several of which fell during the night, added to the weird effect of sluiskin's song. the next morning we moved two miles farther up the ridge and made camp in the last clump of trees, quite within the limit of perpetual snow. thence, with snow-spikes upon our feet and alpine staff in hand, we went up the snow-fields to reconnoiter the best line of ascent. we spent four hours, walking fast, in reaching the foot of the steep, abrupt part of the mountain. after carefully scanning the southern approaches, we decided to ascend on the morrow by a steep, rocky ridge that seemed to lead up to the snowy crown. our camp was pitched on a high knoll crowned by a grove of balsam firs, near a turbulent glacial torrent. about nine o'clock, after we had lain down for the night, the firs round our camp took fire and suddenly burst out in a vivid conflagration. the night was dark and windy, and the scene--the vast, dim outlines of takhoma, the white snow-fields, the roaring torrent, the crackling blaze of the burning trees--was strikingly wild and picturesque. in honor of our guide we named the cascade at our feet sluiskin's falls; the stream we named glacier creek, and the mass of ice whence it derives its source we styled the little nisqually glacier. before daylight the next morning, wednesday, august , , we were up and had breakfasted, and at six o'clock we started to ascend takhoma. besides our alpine staffs and creepers, we carried a long rope, an ice-axe, a brass plate inscribed with our names, our flags, a large canteen, and some luncheon. we were also provided with gloves, and green goggles for snow-blindness, but found no occasion to use the latter. having suffered much from the heat of the sun since leaving bear prairie, and being satisfied from our late reconnoissance that we could reach the summit and return on the same day, we left behind our coats and blankets. in three hours of fast walking we reached the highest point of the preceding day's trip, and commenced the ascent by the steep, rocky ridge already described as reaching up to the snowy dome. we found it to be a very narrow, steep, irregular backbone, being solid rock, while the sides were composed of loose broken rocks and débris. up this ridge, keeping upon the spine when possible, and sometimes forced to pick our way over the loose and broken rocks at the sides, around columnar masses which we could not directly climb over, we toiled for five hundred yards, ascending at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees. here the ridge connected, by a narrow neck or saddle, with a vast square rock, whose huge and distinct outline can be clearly perceived from a distance of twenty-five miles. this, like the ridge, is a conglomerate of basalt and trap, in well-defined strata, and is rapidly disintegrating and continually falling in showers and even masses of rocks and rubbish, under the action of frost by night and melting snow by day. it lies imbedded in the side of the mountain, with one side and end projected and overhanging deep, terrible gorges, and it is at the corner or junction of these two faces that the ridge joined it at a point about a thousand feet below its top. on the southern face the strata were inclined at an angle of thirty degrees. crossing by the saddle from the ridge, despite a strong wind which swept across it, we gained a narrow ledge formed by a stratum more solid than its fellows, and creeping along it, hugging close to the main rock on our right, laboriously and cautiously continued the ascent. the wind was blowing violently. we were now crawling along the face of the precipice almost in mid-air. on the right the rock towered far above us perpendicularly. on the left it fell sheer off, two thousand feet, into a vast abyss. a great glacier filled its bed and stretched away for several miles, all seamed or wrinkled across with countless crevasses. we crept up and along a ledge, not of solid, sure rock, but one obstructed with the loose stones and débris which were continually falling from above, and we trod on the upper edge of a steep slope of this rubbish, sending the stones at every step rolling and bounding into the depth below. several times during our progress showers of rocks fell from the precipice above across our path, and rolled into the abyss, but fortunately none struck us. four hundred yards of this progress brought us to where the rock joined the overhanging edge of the vast névé or snow-field that descended from the dome of the mountain and was from time to time, as pressed forward and downward, breaking off in immense masses, which fell with a noise as of thunder into the great canyon on our left. the junction of rock and ice afforded our only line of ascent. it was an almost perpendicular gutter, but here our ice-axe came into play, and by cutting steps in the ice and availing ourselves of every crevice or projecting point of the rock, we slowly worked our way up two hundred yards higher. falling stones were continually coming down, both from the rock on our right and from the ice in front, as it melted and relaxed its hold upon them. mr. van trump was hit by a small one, and another struck his staff from his hands. abandoning the rock, then, at the earliest practicable point, we ascended directly up the ice, cutting steps for a short distance, until we reached ice so corrugated, or drawn up in sharp pinnacles, as to afford a foothold. these folds or pinnacles were about two or three feet high, and half as thick, and stood close together. it was like a very violent chop sea, only the waves were sharper. up this safe footing we climbed rapidly, the side of the mountain becoming less and less steep, and the ice waves smaller and more regular, and, after ascending about three hundred yards, stood fairly upon the broad dome of mighty takhoma. it rose before us like a broad, gently swelling headland of dazzling white, topped with black, where the rocky summit projected above the névé. ascending diagonally towards the left, we continued our course. the snow was hard and firm under foot, crisp and light for an inch or two, but solidified into ice a foot or less beneath the surface. the whole field was covered with the ice-waves already described, and intersected by a number of crevasses which we crossed at narrow places without difficulty. about half-way up the slope, we encountered one from eight to twenty feet wide and of profound depth. the most beautiful vivid emerald-green color seemed to fill the abyss, the reflection of the bright sunlight from side to side of its pure ice walls. the upper side or wall of the crevasse was some twelve feet above the lower, and in places overhung it, as though the snow-field on the lower side had bodily settled down a dozen feet. throwing a bight of the rope around a projecting pinnacle on the upper side, we climbed up, hand over hand, and thus effected a crossing. we were now obliged to travel slowly, with frequent rests. in that rare atmosphere, after taking seventy or eighty steps, our breath would be gone, our muscles grew tired and strained, and we experienced all the sensations of extreme fatigue. an instant's pause, however, was sufficient to recover strength and breath, and we would start again. the wind, which we had not felt while climbing the steepest part of the mountain, now again blew furiously, and we began to suffer from the cold. our course,--directed still diagonally towards the left, thus shunning the severe exertion of climbing straight up the dome, although at an ordinary altitude the slope would be deemed easy,--brought us first to the southwest peak. this is a long, exceedingly sharp, narrow ridge, springing out from the main dome for a mile into mid-air. the ridge affords not over ten or twelve feet of foothold on top, and the sides descend almost vertically. on the right side the snow lay firm and smooth for a few feet on top, and then descended in a steep, unbroken sheet, like an immense, flowing curtain, into the tremendous basin which lies on the west side of the mountain between the southern and northern peaks, and which is inclosed by them as by two mighty arms. the snow on the top and left crest of the ridge was broken into high, sharp pinnacles, with cracks and fissures extending to the rocks a few feet below. the left side, too steep for the snow to lie on, was vertical, bare rock. the wind blew so violently that we were obliged to brace ourselves with our alpine staffs and use great caution to guard against being swept off the ridge. we threw ourselves behind the pinnacles or into the cracks every seventy steps, for rest and shelter against the bitter, piercing wind. hastening forward in this way along the dizzy, narrow, and precarious ridge, we reached at length the highest point. sheltered behind a pinnacle of ice we rested a moment, took out our flags and fastened them upon the alpine staffs, and then, standing erect in the furious blast, waved them in triumph with three cheers. we stood a moment upon that narrow summit, bracing ourselves against the tempest to view the prospect. the whole country was shrouded in a dense sea of smoke, above which the mountain towered two thousand feet in the clear, cloudless ether. a solitary peak far to the southeast, doubtless mount adams, and one or two others in the extreme northern horizon, alone protruded above the pall. on every side of the mountain were deep gorges falling off precipitously thousands of feet, and from these the thunderous sound of avalanches would rise occasionally. far below were the wide-extended glaciers already described. the wind was now a perfect tempest, and bitterly cold; smoke and mist were flying about the base of the mountain, half hiding, half revealing its gigantic outlines; and the whole scene was sublimely awful. it was now five p.m. we had spent eleven hours of unremitted toil in making the ascent, and, thoroughly fatigued, and chilled by the cold, bitter gale, we saw ourselves obliged to pass the night on the summit without shelter or food, except our meagre lunch. it would have been impossible to descend the mountain before nightfall, and sure destruction to attempt it in darkness. we concluded to return to a mass of rocks not far below, and there pass the night as best we could, burrowing in the loose débris. the middle peak of the mountain, however, was evidently the highest, and we determined to first visit it. retracing our steps along the narrow crest of peak success, as we named the scene of our triumph, we crossed an intervening depression in the dome, and ascended the middle peak, about a mile distant and two hundred feet higher than peak success. climbing over a rocky ridge which crowns the summit, we found ourselves within a circular crater two hundred yards in diameter, filled with a solid bed of snow, and inclosed with a rim of rocks projecting above the snow all around. as we were crossing the crater on the snow, van trump detected the odor of sulphur, and the next instant numerous jets of steam and smoke were observed issuing from the crevices of the rocks which formed the rim on the northern side. never was a discovery more welcome! hastening forward, we both exclaimed, as we warmed our chilled and benumbed extremities over one of pluto's fires, that here we would pass the night, secure against freezing to death, at least. these jets were from the size of that of a large steampipe to a faint, scarcely perceptible emission, and issued all along the rim among the loose rocks on the northern side for more than half the circumference of the crater. at intervals they would puff up more strongly, and the smoke would collect in a cloud until blown aside and scattered by the wind, and then their force would abate for a time. a deep cavern, extending into and under the ice, and formed by the action of heat, was found. its roof was a dome of brilliant green ice with long icicles pendent from it, while its floor, composed of the rocks and débris which formed the side of the crater, descended at an angle of thirty degrees. forty feet within its mouth we built a wall of stones, inclosing a space five by six feet around a strong jet of steam and heat. unlike the angular, broken rocks met with elsewhere, within the crater we found well-rounded bowlders and stones of all sizes worn as smooth by the trituration of the crater as by the action of water. nowhere, however, did we observe any new lava or other evidences of recent volcanic action excepting these issues of steam and smoke. inclosed within the rude shelter thus hastily constructed, we discussed our future prospects while we ate our lunch and warmed ourselves at our natural register. the heat at the orifice was too great to bear for more than an instant, but the steam wet us, the smell of sulphur was nauseating, and the cold was so severe that our clothes, saturated with the steam, froze stiff when turned away from the heated jet. the wind outside roared and whistled, but it did not much affect us, secure within our cavern, except when an occasional gust came down perpendicularly. however, we passed a most miserable night, freezing on one side, and in a hot steam-sulphur-bath on the other. the dawn at last slowly broke, cold and gray. the tempest howled still wilder. as it grew light, dense masses of driven mist went sweeping by overhead and completely hid the sun, and enveloped the mountain so as to conceal objects scarce a hundred feet distant. we watched and waited with great anxiety, fearing a storm which might detain us there for days without food or shelter, or, worse yet, snow, which would render the descent more perilous, or most likely impossible. and when, at nine a.m., an occasional rift in the driving mist gave a glimpse of blue sky, we made haste to descend. first, however, i deposited the brass plate inscribed with our names in a cleft in a large bowlder on the highest summit,--a huge mount of rocks on the east side of our crater of refuge, which we named crater peak,--placed the canteen alongside, and covered it with a large stone. i was then literally freezing in the cold, piercing blast, and was glad to hurry back to the crater, breathless and benumbed. we left our den of refuge at length, after exercising violently to start the blood through our limbs, and, in attempting to pass around the rocky summit, discovered a second crater, larger than the first, perhaps three hundred yards in diameter. it is circular, filled with a bed of snow, with a rocky rim all around and numerous jets of steam issuing from the rocks on the northern side. both craters are inclined--the first to the west, and the latter to the east with a much steeper inclination, about thirty degrees. the rim of the second crater is higher, or the snow-field inside lower, than that of the first, and upon the east side rises in a rocky wall thirty feet above the snow within. from the summit we obtained a view of the northern peak, still partially enveloped in the driving mist. it appeared about a mile distant, several hundred feet lower than the center peak, and separated from it by a deeper, more abrupt depression or gap than that separating crater and success peaks. like the latter, too, it is a sharp, narrow ridge springing out from the main mountain, and swept bare of snow on its summit by the wind. the weather was still too threatening, the glimpses of the sun and sky through the thick, flying scud were too few and fugitive, to warrant us in visiting this peak, which we named peak takhoma, to perpetuate the indian name of the mountain. our route back was the same as on the ascent. at the steepest and most perilous point in descending the steep gutter where we had been forced to cut steps in the ice, we fastened one end of the rope as securely as possible to a projecting rock, and lowered ourselves down by it as far as it reached, thereby passing the place with comparative safety. we were forced to abandon the rope here, having no means of unfastening it from the rock above. we reached the foot of the rocky ledge or ridge, where the real difficulties and dangers of the ascent commenced, at . p.m., four and a half hours after leaving the crater. we had been seven and a half hours in ascending from this point to the summit of peak success, and in both cases we toiled hard and lost no time. we now struck out rapidly and joyfully for camp. when nearly there van trump, in attempting to descend a snowbank without his creepers, which he had taken off for greater ease in walking, fell, shot like lightning forty feet down the steep incline, and struck among some loose rocks at its foot with such force as to rebound several feet into the air; his face and hands were badly skinned, and he received some severe bruises and a deep, wide gash upon his thigh. fortunately the camp was not far distant, and thither with great pain and very slowly he managed to hobble. once there i soon started a blazing fire, made coffee, and roasted choice morsels of a marmot, sluiskin having killed and dressed four of these animals during our absence. their flesh, like the badger's, is extremely muscular and tough, and has a strong, disagreeable, doggy odor. towards the close of our repast, we observed the indian approaching with his head down, and walking slowly and wearily as though tired by a long tramp. he raised his head as he came nearer, and, seeing us for the first time, stopped short, gazed long and fixedly, and then slowly drew near, eying us closely the while, as if to see whether we were real flesh and blood or disembodied ghosts fresh from the evil demon of takhoma. he seemed both astonished and delighted to find us safe back, and kept repeating that we were strong men and had brave hearts: "skookum tilicum, skookum tumtum." he expected never to see us again, he said, and had resolved to start the next morning for olympia to report our destruction. the weather was still raw and cold. a dense cloud overhung and shrouded the triple crown of takhoma and made us rejoice at our timely descent. the scanty shelter afforded by the few balsam firs about our camp had been destroyed by the fire, and the situation was terribly exposed to the chilly and piercing wind that blew from the great ice-fields. van trump, however, was too badly hurt to think of moving that night. heating some large stones we placed them at our feet, and closely wrapped in our blankets slept soundly upon the open ground, although we awoke in the morning benumbed and chilled. we found many fresh tracks and signs of the mountain-sheep upon the snowfields, and hair and wool rubbed off upon rocks, and places where they had lain at night. the mountain-sheep of takhoma is much larger than the common goat, and is found only upon the loftiest and most secluded peaks of the cascade range. even sluiskin, a skillful hunter and accustomed to the pursuit of this animal for years, failed to kill one, notwithstanding he hunted assiduously during our entire stay upon the mountain, three days. sluiskin was greatly chagrined at his failure, and promised to bring each of us a sheep-skin the following summer, a promise which he faithfully fulfilled. the glacial system of takhoma is stupendous. the mountain is really the focal centre and summit of a region larger than massachusetts, and the five large rivers which water this region all find their sources in its vast glaciers. they are the cowlitz, which empties into the columbia; the white, puyallup, and nisqually rivers, which empty into puget sound sixty, forty, and twelve miles respectively north of olympia; and the wenass, which flows eastward through the range and empties into the yakima, which joins the columbia four hundred miles above its mouth. these are all large streams from seventy to a hundred miles in length. the white, puyallup, and cowlitz rivers are each navigable for steamboats for some thirty miles, and like the nisqually show their glacial origin by their white and turgid water, which indeed gives the former its name. the southwestern sides of the mountain furnish the glaciers which form the sources of the nisqually, and one of these, at sluiskin's falls, has been already described. the main nisqually glacier issues from the deep abyss overhung by the vast rock along the face of which our route of ascent lay, and extends in a narrow and somewhat crooked canyon for two miles. the ice at its extremity rises in an abrupt wall five hundred feet high, and a noisy torrent pours out with great force from beneath. this feature is characteristic of every glacier. the main cowlitz glacier issues from the southeast side, just to the right of our ridge of ascent. its head fills a deep gorge at the foot of the eastern front or face of the great mass of rock just referred to, and the southern face of which overhangs the main nisqually glacier. thus the heads of these glaciers are separated only by this great rock, and are probably not more than half a mile apart, while their mouths are three miles apart. several smaller glaciers serve to swell the waters of the cowlitz. in like manner the glaciers from the western side form the puyallup, and those from the northern and northwestern sides the white river. the principal white river glacier is nearly ten miles long, and its width is from two to four miles. its depth, or the thickness of its ice, must be thousands of feet. streams and rivulets under the heat of the sun flow down its surface until swallowed by the crevasses, and a lakelet of deep blue water an eighth of a mile in diameter has been observed upon the solid ice. pouring down from the mountain, the ice by its immense weight and force has gouged out a mass upon the northeastern side a mile in thickness. the geological formation of takhoma poorly resists the eroding power of these mighty glaciers, for it seems to be composed not of solid rock, but of a basaltic conglomerate in strata, as though the volcanic force had burst through and rent in pieces some earlier basaltic outflow, and had heaped up this vast pile from the fragments in successive strata. on every side the mountain is slowly disintegrating. what other peak can offer to scientific examination or to the admiration of tourists fourteen living glaciers of such magnitude, issuing from every side, or such grandeur, beauty, and variety of scenery? at daylight we broke up our camp at sluiskin's falls, and moved slowly, on account of van trump's hurt, down the ridge about five miles to clear creek, where we again regaled ourselves upon a hearty repast of marmots, or "raw dog," as van trump styled them in derision both of the viand and of the cookery. i was convinced from the lay of the country that clear creek flowed into the nisqually, or was, perhaps, the main stream itself, and that the most direct and feasible route back to bear prairie would be found by following down the valley of these streams to the trail leading from the nisqually to bear prairie. besides, it was evidently impossible for van trump, in his bruised and injured state, to retrace our rough route over the mountains. leaving him as comfortable as possible, with all our scanty stock of flour and marmots, sufficient to last him nearly a week in case of need, i started immediately after dinner, with sluiskin leading the way, to explore this new route. the indian had opposed the attempt strenuously, insisting with much urgency that the stream flowed through canyons impossible for us to traverse. he now gradually veered away from the course of the stream, until ere-long he was leading directly up the steep mountain range upon our former route, when i called him back peremptorily, and kept him in the rear for a little distance. traveling through open timber, over ground rapidly descending, we came at the end of two miles to where the stream is hemmed in between one of the long ridges or spurs from takhoma and the high mountain-chain on the south. the stream, receiving many affluents on both sides, its clear waters soon discolored by the yeasty glacial torrents, here loses its peaceful flow, and for upwards of three miles rushes furiously down a narrow, broken, and rocky bed in a succession of falls and cascades of great picturesque beauty. with much toil and difficulty we picked our way over a wide "talus" of huge, broken granite blocks and bowlders, along the foot of a vast mountain of solid granite on the south side of the river, until near the end of the defile, then crossed the stream, and soon after encountered a still larger branch coming from the north, direct from takhoma, the product, doubtless, of the glaciers on the southern and southwestern sides. fording this branch just above its confluence with the other, we followed the general course of the river, now unmistakably the nisqually, for about four miles; then, leaving it, we struck off nearly south through the forest for three miles, and emerged upon the bear prairie. the distance was about thirteen miles from where we left van trump, and we were only some six hours in traveling it, while it took seventeen hours of terribly severe work to make the mountain-route under sluiskin's guidance. without his help on the shorter route, too, it would have taken me more than twice the time it did. for the manner in which, after entering the defile of the nisqually, sluiskin again took the lead and proceeded in a direct and unhesitating course, securing every advantage of the ground, availing himself of the wide, rocky bars along the river, crossing and recrossing the milky flood which rushed along with terrific swiftness and fury, and occasionally forcing his way through the thick timber and underbrush in order to cut off wide bends of the river, and at length leaving it and striking boldly through the forest to bear prairie, proved him familiar with every foot of the country. his objections to the route evidently arose from the jealousy so common with his people of further exploration of the country by the whites. as long as they keep within the limits already known and explored, they are faithful and indefatigable guides, but they invariably interpose every obstacle their ingenuity can suggest to deter the adventurous mountaineer from exposing the few last hidden recesses that remain unexplored. mr. coleman was found safe in camp, and seemed too glad to see us to think of reproaching us for our summary abandonment. he said that in attempting to follow us he climbed up so precipitous a place that, encumbered with his heavy pack, he could neither advance nor recede. he was compelled, therefore, to throw off the pack, which rolled to the very bottom of the mountain, and being thus delivered of his necessary outfit, he was forced to return to camp. he had been unable to find his pack, but having come across some cricketer's spikes among his remaining effects, he was resolved to continue his trip to, and make the ascent of, rainier by himself; he had just completed his preparations, and especially had deposited on top of the lofty mountain which overlooked the prairie two caches, or stores, of provisions. at daylight next morning, sluiskin, with his little boy riding one of his own ponies, himself riding our little calico-colored pack-horse, now well rested and saucy, started back for van trump, with directions to meet us at the trail on the nisqually. a heavy, drizzling rain set in soon afterwards; mr. coleman, who had gone early to bring in the contents of his mountain-top caches, returned about noon with a very small bundle, and, packing our traps upon sluiskin's other pony, we moved over to the rendezvous, pitched coleman's large gum-sheet as a partial shelter, made a rousing fire, and tried to be comfortable. late in the afternoon the pony set up a violent neighing, and in a few minutes van trump, and sluiskin with his little boy behind him, rode up, drenched to the skin. by following the bed of the river, frequently crossing and recrossing, the indian had managed to ride to the very foot of the nisqually defile, when, leaving the horses in this boy's care, he hastened to van trump and carefully led and assisted him down. despite the pain of his severe hurts, the latter was much amused at sluiskin's account of our trip, and of finding mr. coleman safe in camp making tea, and for long after would repeat as an excellent joke sluiskin's remark on passing the point where he had attempted to mislead me, "skookum tenas man hiyu goddam." we sent the horses back by the indian to bear prairie for grass, there being no indications of the rain ceasing. the storm indeed lasted three days, during which we remained sheltered beneath the gum-sheet as far as possible, and endeavored to counteract the rain by heaping up our fire in front. about eight o'clock on the second morning, sluiskin reported himself with our horse, which he returned, he said, because he was about to return to his lodge on the cowlitz, being destitute of shelter and food for his family on bear prairie. he vigorously replenished the fire, declined breakfast, jeered coleman for turning back, although probably the latter did not comprehend his broken lingo, and departed. sluiskin was an original and striking character. leading a solitary life of hardships amidst these wilds, yet of unusual native intelligence, he had contrived, during rare visits to the settlements, to acquire the chinook jargon, besides a considerable stock of english words, while his fund of general information was really wonderful. he was possessed of a shrewd, sarcastic wit, and, making no pretense to the traditional gravity of his race, did not scruple to use it freely. yet beneath this he cherished a high sense of pride and personal independence. although of the blood of the numerous and powerful yakimas, who occupied the country just east of the cascades, he disdained to render allegiance to them or any tribe, and undoubtedly regarded the superintendent of indian affairs, or even the great father at washington himself, with equally contemptuous indifference. as the last rays of the sun, one warm, drowsy summer afternoon, were falling aslant the shady streets of olympia, mr. longmire's well-worn family carry-all, drawn by two fat, grass-fed horses, came rattling down the main street at a most unusual pace for them; two bright flags attached to alpine staffs, one projecting from each door, fluttered gayly overhead, while the occupants of the carriage looked eagerly forth to catch the first glimpse of welcoming friends. we returned after our tramp of two hundred and forty miles with visages tanned and sun-scorched, and with forms as lean and gaunt as greyhounds, and were received and lionized to the full, like veterans returning from an arduous and glorious campaign. for days afterward, in walking along the smooth and level pavements, we felt a strong impulse to step high, as though still striding over the innumerable fallen logs and boughs of the forest, and for weeks our appetites were a source of astonishment to our friends and somewhat mortifying to ourselves. more than two months had elapsed before mr. van trump fully recovered from his hurts. we published at the time short newspaper accounts of the ascent, and, although an occasional old puget sounder will still growl, "they say they went on top of mount rainier, but i'd like to see them prove it," we were justly regarded as the first, and as i believe the only ones up to the present time, who have ever achieved the summit of takhoma. footnote: [ ] tak-ho'ma or ta-ho'ma among the yakimas, klickitats, puyallups, nisquallys, and allied tribes of indians, is the generic term for mountain, used precisely as we use the word "mount," as takhoma wynatchie, or mount wynatchie. but they all designate rainier simply as takhoma, or the mountain, just as the mountain men used to call it the "old he." (note in the original article.) vii. indian warning against demons by sluiskin, indian guide the beautiful sluiskin falls, at the head of paradise valley, have been admired by countless visitors to the mount rainier national park. the name was bestowed upon them by stevens and van trump after their return from what the indian guide believed was sure death. before they had left him at the camp near the falls and started to climb over the snow and ice, he delivered an eloquent plea in the chinook jargon accompanied by natural but effective gestures. the speech was remembered and repeated by the white men when they returned among their friends. one of those who committed it to memory was former congressman m. c. george of oregon. he furnished a copy. general stevens in revised it, but added: "my chinook i have somewhat lost, so the rendering is probably not so correct as it might be." however, the indian speech and the translation by general stevens will likely be cherished as here reproduced. kloshe nanich, mesika kloshe tilikum. nika tikigh wawa kopa mesika. mesika tikegh klatawa saghalie takhoma, hyiu pelton. halo tilikum mamook okoke pe mitlite. hyas tyee mitlite kopa saghalie illahee kopa hyiu piah. wake tikigh tilikum chako kopa yahka illahee. ahnkuttie nika papa yahka papa, hyas skookum tyee kopa konaway yakima tilikum, klatawa wake siah yahka la tet. alta nanich piah chuck pe keekwulee tyee chako mimoluse yahka pe hyak klatawa keekwulee saghalie illahee, pe hyiu kloshe tumtum. yahka wake mamook alta, halo ikt siwash mamook klatawa. kloshe mesika klatawa, kloshe mamook. hyiu snow, kloshe klatawa snow illahee, ahnkuttie nika mimoluse takhoma mowich kloshe ooakut. alta mesika nanich klatawa hyiu stone, wake kloshe klatawa pe mesika teahwit tseepie alta mesika klatawa keekwulee pe mimoluse, keekwulee pe mimoluse. mesika klatawa hyas mesachie snow pe keekwulee hyas mesachie illahee yahka takhoma mowich halo klatawa. mesika klatawa hyas saghalie illahee hyiu stone chako, hyiu stone chako, pe mesika mimoluse pe kokshut mesika. spose mesika klatawa kopa okoke saghalie illahee alta mesika hyiu skookum pe cole wind alta yahka mahsh mesika kopa keekwulee illahee pe mimoluse mesika. spose mesika mitlite mesachie iktas hyas keekwulee tyee mitlite takhoma mesika mimoluse pe mesika mahsh okoke piah chuck. wake mesika klatawa! mesika mamook nika tumtum kwass, spose mesika klatawa takhoma saghalie. mesika mimoluse mesika spose klatawa takhoma. mesika mimoluse pe mesika tilikum sollecks kopa nika. wake klatawa! wake klatawa! spose mesika klatawa, nika mitlite mokst sun pe alta nika klatawa kopa olympia pe wawa kopa mesika tilikum alta mesika mimoluse siah saghalie takhoma. mesika potlatch pehpah kopa nika mamook kumtuks mesika mimoluse wake nika mesachie. kopet wawa nika. translation by general stevens listen to me, my good friends. i must talk to you. your plan to climb takhoma is all foolishness. no one can do it and live. a mighty chief dwells upon the summit in a lake of fire. he brooks no intruders. many years ago my grandfather, the greatest and bravest chief of all the yakima, climbed nearly to the summit. there he caught sight of the fiery lake and the infernal demon coming to destroy him, and he fled down the mountain, glad to escape with his life. where he failed, no other indian ever dared make the attempt. at first the way is easy, the task seems light. the broad snowfields, over which i have often hunted the mountain goat, offer an inviting path. but above them you will have to climb over steep rocks overhanging deep gorges where a misstep would hurl you far down--down to certain death. you must creep over steep snow banks and cross deep crevasses where a mountain goat could hardly keep his footing. you must climb along steep cliffs where rocks are continually falling to crush you, or knock you off into the bottomless depths. and if you should escape these perils and reach the great snowy dome, then a bitterly cold and furious tempest will sweep you off into space like a withered leaf. but if by some miracle you should survive all these perils the mighty demon of takhoma will surely kill you and throw you into the fiery lake. don't you go! you make my heart sick when you talk of climbing takhoma. you will perish if you try to climb takhoma. you will perish and your people will blame me. don't go! don't go! if you will go, i will wait here two days, and then go to olympia and tell your people that you perished on takhoma. give me a paper to them to let them know that i am not to blame for your death. my talk is ended. [illustration: samuel franklin emmons.] viii. second successful ascent, by s. f. emmons later in the same year, , when stevens and van trump made their first successful ascent, the achievement was also accomplished by s. f. emmons and a. d. wilson of the geological exploration of the fortieth parallel. samuel franklin emmons was born at boston on march , . he died painlessly and unexpectedly on the eve of his seventieth birthday, march , . george f. becker gave him a fervent eulogy which appeared in the transactions of the american institute of mining engineers for . he says: "there is not a geological society or even a mining camp from arctic finland to the transvaal, or from alaska to australia, where emmons's name is not honored and his authority recognized." with all his fame and ability, the biographer declares, he was modest to diffidence. his account of the ascent is in the form of a letter to his chief, clarence king, who published it in the american journal of science for march, . it is here reproduced from that source. the photograph of mr. emmons was obtained from the united states geological survey. it will be noticed that mr. emmons calls the mountain tachoma. the mountain's largest glacier, to which he refers with enthusiasm, was for a long time known by the name of white river which it feeds. it is peculiarly appropriate that that glacier should bear the name given it on the official map of the united states geological survey--emmons glacier. the glaciers of mt. tachoma, or rainier as it is more commonly called, form the principal sources of four important rivers of washington territory, viz: the cowlitz, which flows into the columbia, and the nisqually, puyallup and white rivers which empty into puget sound. in accordance with your instructions, mr. a. d. wilson and i visited this mountain in the early part of october, , and carried the work of making its complete survey, both geological and topographical, as far as the lateness of the season and the means at our disposal would permit. as the topographical work has not yet been plotted, the figures given in my notes are merely estimates, and liable to subsequent correction. i herewith transmit an abstract from my notes upon the glaciers, embracing those of rather more than half the slopes of the mountain, those on the eastern side, from the extreme southern to the extreme northern point. the summit of tachoma is formed by three peaks, a southern, an eastern, and a northwestern: of these the eastern is the highest; those on the south and northwest, being apparently a few hundred feet lower, are distant about a mile and a half to two miles from this, and separated by deep valleys. the eastern peak, which would seem to have formed originally the middle of the mountain mass, is a crater about a quarter of a mile in diameter of very perfect circular form. its sides are bare for about feet from the rim, below which they are covered by a _névé_ having a slope of from ° to °. this _névé_ extending from the shoulders of the southwestern peak to those of the northern, a width of several miles, descends to a vertical distance of about feet below the crater rim, an immense sheet of white granular ice, having the general form of the mountain surface, and broken only by long transverse crevasses, one of those observed being from one to two miles in length: it is then divided up by the several jutting rock-masses or shoulder of the mountain into the nisqually, cowlitz and white river glaciers, falling in distinct ice cascades for about feet at very steep angles, which sometimes approach the perpendicular. from the foot of these cascades flow the glaciers proper, at a more gentle angle, growing narrower and sinking deeper into the mountain as they descend. from the intervening spurs, which slope even more gradually, they receive many tributary glaciers, while some of these secondary glaciers form independent streams, which only join the main river many miles below the end of the glaciers. the nisqually, the narrowest of the three main glaciers above mentioned, has the most sinuous course, varying in direction from southwest to south, while its lower extremity is somewhat west of south of the main peak: it receives most of its tributaries from the spur to the east, and has a comparatively regular slope in its whole length below the cascades. there are some indications of dirt-bands on its surface, when seen from a considerable elevation. toward its lower end it is very much broken up by transverse and longitudinal crevasses: this is due to the fact, that it has here cut through the more yielding strata of volcanic rock, and come upon an underlying and unconformable mass of syenite. the ice front at its base is about feet in height, and the walls of lava which bound its sides rise from to feet above the surface of the ice, generally in sheer precipices. the bed of the cowlitz glacier is generally parallel to that of the nisqually, though its curves are less marked: the ice cascades in which each originates, fall on either side of a black cliff of bedded lava and breccia scarcely a thousand feet in horizontal thickness, while the mouths of the glaciers, if i may be allowed the expression, are about three miles apart. from the jutting edge of this cliff hang enormous icicles from to feet in length. the slope of this glacier is less regular, being broken by subordinate ice cascades. like the nisqually its lower extremity stretches out as it were into the forest, the slopes on either side, where not too steep, being covered with the mountain fir (_picea nobilis_) for several hundred feet above the level of the ice, while the _pinus flexilis_ grows at least feet higher than the mouth of the glacier. the general course of this glacier is south, but at its extremity it bends to the eastward, apparently deflected from its course by a cliff of older felsitic rock, more resisting than the lava. the consequence of this deflection is a predominance of longitudinal over transverse crevasses at this point, and an unusually large moraine at its western side, which rises several hundred feet above the surface of the glaciers, and partakes of the character of both lateral and terminal moraines: the main medial moraine of the glacier joins this near its lower end. this medial moraine proceeds from the cliff which bounds the ice cascade source of the glacier on the north, and brings down a dark porous lava which is only found high up on the mountain near the crater. the position of the medial moraine on the glacier would indicate that at least half its mass came from the spur on the east, which is probably the case. this spur, comprehending the whole mass between the cowlitz and white rivers glaciers, has the shape of a triangle whose apex is formed by a huge pinnacle of rock, which, as its bedding indicates, once formed part of the crust of the mountain, but now stands isolated, a jagged peak rising about feet above the glaciers at its foot, so steep that neither ice nor snow rest upon it. one of the tributaries to the cowlitz glacier from this spur brings down with it a second medial moraine, which is traceable to the mouth of the glacier, though in general these tributary glaciers bring no medial moraines. on the eastern slopes of this spur between the two above named glaciers, spread secondary glaciers, frequently of great width, but owing to the limited height of their initial points, of inconsiderable length. these end generally in perpendicular cliffs overhanging the rocky amphitheaters at the heads of the smaller streams which flow eastward into the cowlitz. looking up from the bottom of one of these amphitheaters one sees a semi-circular wall of nearly feet of sheer rock, surmounted by about feet of ice, from under which small streams of water issue, falling in silvery cascades on to the green bottom below. a ridge of high jagged peaks connects this spur with the main range of the cascade mts. in the east, and forms the water-shed between the white and cowlitz rivers. from the connecting saddle one can look northward across the brink of six glaciers, which all contribute to the white river; of these the first four come from the triangular spur already mentioned and are of comparatively little extent. the first two are, however, interesting from the vein structure which they exhibit; they both originate in an irregularly oblong basin, having the shape somewhat of an inclined ellipse, turning on its longer diameter, the outlets of the glacier being opposite the foci. seen from a high point the veins form concentric lines generally parallel to the sides of the basin; the ends of those towards the center gradually bend round, until they join together in the form of a figure , and finally just above the outlets form two small ellipses. they thus constantly preserve a direction at right angles to that of the pressure exerted, downward by the movement of the ice mass, and upward by the resistance to this movement of the rock mass between the two outlets. the main white river glacier, the grandest of the whole,[ ] pours straight down from the rim of the crater in a northeasterly direction, and pushes its extremity farther out into the valley than any of the others. its greatest width on the steep slope of the mountain must be four or five miles, narrowing towards its extremity to about a mile and a half; its length can be scarcely less than ten miles. the great eroding power of glacial ice is strikingly illustrated in this glacier, which seems to have cut down and carried away on the northeastern side of the mountain, fully a third of its mass. the thickness of rock cut away as shown by the walls on either side, and the isolated peak at the head of the triangular spur, in which the bedding of the successive flows of lava, forming the original mountain crust, is very regular and conformable, may be roughly estimated at somewhat over a mile. of the thickness of the ice of the glacier i have no data for making estimates, though it may probably be reckoned in thousands of feet. it has two principal medial moraines, which, where crossed by us, formed little mountain ridges having peaks nearly feet high. the sources of these moraines are cliffs on the steeper mountain slope, which seem mere black specks in the great white field above: between these are great cascades, and below immense transverse crevasses, which we had no time or means to visit. the surface water flows in rills and brooks, on the lower portion of the glacier, and _moulins_ are of frequent occurrence. we visited one double _moulin_ where two brooks poured into two circular wells, each about ten feet in diameter, joined together at the surface but separated below: we could not approach near enough the edge to see the bottom of either, but, as stones thrown in sent back no sound, judged they must be very deep. this glacier forks near the foot of the steeper mountain slope, and sends off a branch to the northward, which forms a large stream flowing down to join the main stream fifteen or twenty miles below. looking down on this from a high overhanging peak, we could see, as it were, under our feet, a little lake of deep blue water, about an eighth of a mile in diameter, standing in the brown gravel-covered ice of the end of the glacier. on the back of the rocky spur, which divides these two glaciers, a secondary glacier has scooped out a basin-shaped bed, and sends down an ice stream, having all the characteristics of a true glacier, but its ice disappears several miles above the mouths of the large glaciers on either side. were nothing known of the movement of glaciers, an instance like this would seem to afford sufficient evidence that such movement exists, and that gravity is the main motive power. from our northern and southern points we could trace the beds of several large glaciers to the west of us, whose upper and lower portions only were visible, the main body of the ice lying hidden by the high intervening spurs. ten large glaciers observed by us, and at least half as many more hidden by the mountain from our view, proceeding thus from an isolated peak, form a most remarkable system, and one worthy of a careful and detailed study. footnote: [ ] it is a pleasure to note that this fine glacier now bears the name of emmons. [illustration: bailey willis. from a photograph taken in .] ix. explorations on the northern slopes, - by bailey willis the northwest for april, , which was number of volume i of that magazine, contained an article by bailey willis, assistant geologist of the northern transcontinental survey. the article is entitled "canyons and glaciers. a journey to the ice fields of mount tacoma." mr. willis was born at idlewild-on-hudson, new york, on may , . it speaks well for his skill and training that he should have attained to such a position at twenty-four years of age. since then he has worked out a great career in the united states geological survey, in china and in other parts of the world. he is now professor of geology at stanford university. he has kindly revised for this publication the product of his younger years. and there has also been found a photograph of the geologist as he appeared when the surveys were made. to this day, people who visit the northern slopes and parks of the mountain become familiar with the bailey willis trail and from moraine park they get a view of the wonderful willis wall named in his honor. the puyallup river, which empties into puget sound near new tacoma, heads in three glaciers on mount tacoma. during the summer months, when the ice and snow on the mountains are thawing, the water is discolored with mud from the glaciers and carries a large amount of sediment out to commencement bay. if the coast survey charts are correct, soundings near the centre of the bay have changed from one hundred fathoms and "no bottom" in , to eighty fathoms and "gray mud" in . but when the nights in the hills begin to be frosty, the stream becomes clearer, and in winter the greater volume of spring water gives it a deep green tint. for twenty miles from the sound the valley is nearly level. the bluffs along the river are of coarse gravel, the soil is alluvium, and a well sunk a hundred feet at the little town of puyallup passed through gravel and sand to tide mud and brackish water. from the foot-hills to its mouth the river meanders over an old valley of unknown depth, now filled with material brought down by its several branches. about eighteen miles above its mouth the river forks, and the northern portion takes the name of carbon river; the southern was formerly called the south fork, but it should retain the name of puyallup to its next division far up in the mountains. a short distance above their junction both carbon river and the puyallup escape from narrow, crooked cañons, whose vertical sides, one hundred to three hundred feet high, are often but fifty feet apart. from these walls steep, heavily timbered slopes rise two hundred to eight hundred feet to the summits of the foot-hills. these cañons link the buried river basin of the lower stream with the upper river valleys. the latter extend from the heads of the cañons to the glaciers. they are apparently the deserted beds of mightier ice rivers, now shrunk to the very foot of mount tacoma. from new tacoma the entire course of the puyallup and part of carbon river are in view. across commencement bay are the tide marshes of the delta; back from these salt meadows the light green of the cottonwoods, alder and vine-maple mark the river's course, till it is lost in the dark monotone of the fir forest. no break in the evergreen surface indicates the place of the river cañons; but far out among the foot-hills a line of mist hangs over the upper valley of carbon river, which winds away eastward, behind the rising ground, to the northern side of mount tacoma. milk creek, one of its branches, drains the northwest spur, and on the western slope the snows accumulate in two glaciers, from which flow the north and south forks of the puyallup. these streams meet in a level valley at the base of three singular peaks, and plunge united into the dark gateway of the cañon. a trip to the grand snow peak from which these rivers spring was within a year a very difficult undertaking. there was no trail through the dense forest, no supply depot on the route. no horse nor donkey could accompany the explorer, who took his blankets and provisions on his back, and worked his way slowly among the towering tree trunks, through underbrush luxuriant as a tropic jungle. but last summer a good horse trail was built from wilkeson to carbon river, crossing it above the cañon, sixteen miles below the glacier, and during the autumn it was extended to the head of the puyallup. wilkeson is reached by a branch railroad from new tacoma. it is on a small tributary of carbon river, called fletts creek, at a point where the brook runs from a narrow gorge into a valley about a quarter of a mile wide. coal mines are opened at this point. the horse trail climbs at once from wilkeson to the first terrace, four hundred feet above the valley; then winds a quarter of a mile back through the forest to the second ascent of a hundred feet, and then a mile over the level to the third. hidden here beneath the thick covering of moss and undergrowth of the primeval forest, fourteen hundred feet above the present ocean level, are ancient shore lines of the sea, which has left its trace in similar terraces in all the valleys about the sound.[ ] thence the trail extends southward over a level plateau. carbon river cañon is but half a mile away on the west, and five miles from wilkeson the valley above the cañon is reached. the descent to the river is over three miles along the hillside eastward. from wilkeson to the river the way is all through a belt of forest, where the conditions of growth are very favorable. the fir trees are massive, straight and free from limbs to a great height. the larger ones, eight to twelve feet in diameter on a level with a man's head, carry their size upward, tapering very gradually, till near the top they shoot out a thick mat of foliage and the trunk in a few feet diminishes to a point. one such was measured; it stands like a huge obelisk feet, without a limb, supporting a crown of but forty feet more. the more slender trees are, curiously enough, the taller; straight, clear shafts rise to feet, topped with foliage whose highest needles would look down on trinity spire. cedars, hemlocks, spruce and white fir mingle with these giants, but they do not compete with them in height; they fill in the spaces in the vast colonnades. below is the carpet of deep golden green moss and glossy ferns, and the tangle of vines and bushes that cover the fallen trunks of the fathers of the forest. the silence of these mountains is awesome, the solitude oppressive. the deer, the bear, the panther are seldom met; they see and hear first and silently slip away, leaving only their tracks to prove their numbers. there are very few birds. blue jays, and their less showy gray, but equally impudent, cousins, the "whiskey jacks," assemble about a camp; but in passing through the forest one may wander a whole day and see no living thing save a squirrel, whose shrill chatter is startling amid the silence. the wind plays in the tree tops far overhead, but seldom stirs the branches of the smaller growth. the great tree trunks stand immovable. the more awful is it when a gale roars through the timber; when the huge columns sway in unison and groan with voices strangely human. it is fearful to lie in the utter darkness of a stormy night, listening to the pulsating rush of the wind, the moan of the forest and the crash of uprooted giants upon the ground--listening with bated breath for the report which may foretell the fall of yonder tall decaying shaft, whose thick, deep cleft bark blazed so brightly on the now dying camp fire. the effect of one such storm is seen in carbon river valley, above and below where the trail crosses. the blast followed the stream and the mountain slope on the south side; over an area eight miles long and a half a mile to a mile wide the forest is prostrate. single trees stand gaunt and charred by a recent fire, but their comrades are piled like jackstraws, the toys of the tornado. over and under each other they lie, bent and interlaced, twenty, thirty feet deep. pigmy man strained his eyes to see their tops, when they stood erect; now he vainly stands on tiptoe to look over them in their fallen majesty. to the head of carbon river from the bridge, on which the trail crosses it, is about sixteen miles. the rocky bed of the river is to yards wide, a gray strip of polished boulders between sombre mountain slopes, that rise sharply from it. the stream winds in ever-shifting channels among the stones. about six miles above the bridge milk creek dashes down from its narrow gorge into the river. the high pinnacles of the spur from which it springs are hidden by the nearer fir-clad ridges. between their outlines shines the northern peak of mount tacoma, framed in dark evergreen spires. its snow fields are only three miles distant, but carbon river has come a long way round. for six miles eastward the undulating lines of the mountains converge, then those on the north suddenly cross the view, where the river cañon turns sharply southward. three miles from this turn is crescent mountain, its summit a semi-circular gray wall a thousand feet high.[ ] at sunset the light from the west streams across the head of milk creek and carbon river, illuminating these cliffs as with the glow of volcanic fires, while twilight deepens in the valley. the next turn of the river brings mount tacoma again in view. close on the right a huge buttress towers up, cliff upon cliff, , feet, a single one of the many imposing rock masses that form the ragged spur between carbon river and milk creek. the more rapid fall of the river, the increasing size of the boulders, show the nearness of the glacier. turning eastward to the south of crescent mountain, you pass the group of trees that hide it. this first sight is a disappointment. the glacier is a very dirty one. the face is about feet long and thirty to forty feet high. it entirely fills the space between two low cliffs of polished gray rock. throughout the mass the snows of successive winters are interstratified with the summers' accumulations of earth and rock. from a dark cavern, whose depths have none of the intense blue color so beautiful in crevasses in clear ice, carbon river pours out, a muddy torrent. the top of the glacier is covered with earth about six inches deep, contributed to its mass by the cliffs on either side and by an island of rock, where a few pines grow, entirely surrounded by the ice river. the eye willingly passes over this dirty mass to the gleaming northeast spur of the mountain, where the sunlight lingers after the chill night wind has begun to blow from the ice fields. the disappointment of this view of the glacier leaves one unprepared for the beauty of that from crescent mountain. the ascent from a point a short distance down the river is steep, but not dangerous. the lower slopes are heavily timbered, but at an elevation of , feet juniper and dwarf pine are dotted over the grassy hillside. elk, deer and white mountain goats find here a pleasant pasture; their trails look like well trodden sheep paths on a new england hill. a curious badger-like animal, sitting erect on his hind legs, greets one with a long shrill whistle that would make a schoolboy envious, but trots quickly away on nearer approach. the crest of the southwest rim of the amphitheater is easily gained, and the grandeur of the view bursts upon you suddenly. eastward are the cliffs and cañons of the cascade range. northward forest-covered hill and valley reach to mount baker and the snow peaks that break the horizon line. westward are the blue waters of the sound, the snow-clad olympics and a faint soft line beyond; it may be the ocean or a fog bank above it. southward, , feet above you, so near you must throw your head back to see its summit, is grand mount tacoma; its graceful northern peak piercing the sky, it soars single and alone. whether touched by the glow of early morning or gleaming in bright noonday, whether rosy with sunset light or glimmering ghost-like, in the full moon, whether standing out clear and cloudless or veiled among the mists it weaves from the warm south winds, it is always majestic and inspiring, always attractive and lovely. it is the symbol of an awful power clad in beauty. this northern slope of the mountain is very steep, and the consolidated snow begins its downward movement from near the top. little pinnacles of rock project through the mass and form eddies in the current. a jagged ridge divides it, and part descends into the deep unexplored cañon of white river, probably the deepest chasm in the flanks of mount tacoma. the other part comes straight on toward the southern side of crescent mountain, a precipice , feet high; diverted, it turns in graceful flowing curves, breaks into a thousand ice pyramids and descends into the narrow pass, where its beauty is hidden under the ever-falling showers of rock. this rim you stand upon is very narrow; a hundred feet wide, sometimes less, between the cliff that rises , feet above the glacier and the descent of a thousand feet on the other side. snow lies upon part of this slope; stones, started from the edge, leap in lengthening bounds over its firm surface and plunge with a splash into the throat of the lakelet that lies in the amphitheater. the ice slope, dipping into the clear water, passes from purest white to deepest blue as it passes out of sight in the depths of the basin. a two days' visit to this trackless region sufficed only to see a small part of the magnificent scenery. white river cañon, the cliffs of ragged spur, the northern slope of mount tacoma, where the climber is always tempted upward, might occupy him for weeks. across the snow fields, where milk creek rises, is the glacier of the north fork of the puyallup, and the end of the horse trail we left at carbon river is within six miles of its base. when a trail is built up carbon river, the way across this divide will be found, and, with comfortable stopping places on the two rivers, the tourist can pass a delightful week amid scenery we now cross the ocean to switzerland to see. footnotes: [ ] the terraces to which reference is here made are not the work of the sea, but of lakes whose waters gathered between the mountain slopes and retreating glaciers of the ice period. see the article by h. i. bretz. geol. survey of wash., bull. , . [ ] the amphitheaters which the young geologist mistook for craters are now known to be glacier basins eroded by ice. [illustration: major edward sturgis ingraham.] x. discovery of camp muir, by major e. s. ingraham major edward sturgis ingraham has visited the mountain annually since . he has ascended to the summit seven times and has spent as many nights in the crater. it was he who gave to a number of the prominent features of the park their beautiful and enduring names. on his first ascent in the party included john muir, most famous naturalist of the pacific slope. since he found a sheltered pumice patch and suggested camping there for the night, major ingraham called it camp muir, now well known to all climbers. major ingraham prepared an account of the ascent which was published in the puget sound magazine for october, . that magazine has long since ceased to be issued. it was edited by the editor of this present work, who has rescued the article from the rare and almost forgotten files. after an extensive career as superintendent of schools, printer, militia officer and miner, major ingraham has been devoting his later years to the boy scout work, in which his love for the mountains plays an important part. a glacier on the mountain bears the name of ingraham. how that came to be, is related by him as follows: "one time when i was on the mountain encamped at the camp of the clouds, professor i. c. russell and another man, both in their shirt sleeves, came tottering into my camp at early morning. they had been caught upon the summit and had spent a shivering night in the crater. i treated them the best i knew how and they departed. when their maps came out i found that a beautiful glacier had been named for me--ingraham glacier." mount rainier, one of nature's masterpieces, is the most striking object of grandeur and beauty amidst the unsurpassed scenery of washington territory. occupying nearly a central position geographically in the territory, it is alike an object of pride to the inhabitants of the great plain of the columbia and to the dwellers on puget sound. there are other peaks that command our attention, but it is to the old monarch that we turn with unfeigned pride and exclaim, "behold a masterpiece!" the height of mount rainier, as estimated by triangulation, is , feet. this height was verified by barometer in the hands of one party that reached the summit in the month of august of the present year. from many points of view it appears a single peak; but in reality it is composed of three peaks of nearly the same height. these peaks may be designated as northern, crater and southern. they are not in direct line, but occupy apexes of an obtuse-angled triangle. the northern peak is a cone, with its apex about two miles from the summit of crater peak; the southern peak is somewhat flattened on top, and is about one and one-half miles from crater peak. crater peak, as the name suggests, has two large craters, with well-defined rims--one sloping slightly towards the northeast, and the other towards the southwest. the culminating point of this peak is a sugarloaf-shape mass of pure snow, about one hundred feet above all adjacent points. the northern and southern peaks are inaccessible, except from crater peak, owing to the precipitous condition of their sides, which are so steep that snow will not cling to them except in small patches. down these sides, during some seasons of the year, avalanches go thundering almost hourly with a roar that makes the tourist shudder with fear. the volcanic condition of mount rainier is everywhere apparent. for miles before the base is reached vast quantities of ashes, forming the greater part of the soil of that region, plainly tell of extensive eruptions; the immediate foothills are covered with masses of red and black lava; while pumice is found in great abundance upon some of the ridges. all these evidences suggest that, long ages ago, rainier was the scene of volcanic activity of immense magnitude. ascend to the top, behold the two well-defined craters, with their rims perfect; descend those walls, and try to count the many jets of steam constantly puffing forth their sulphurous odors, and one is led to believe that rainier has been active at a comparatively recent period. mount rainier, with its many glaciers, is the source of the principal rivers of western washington. from the summit of the three peaks the snow forges its way downward until it is compressed into ice; the ice in turn is compressed until it assumes that peculiar blue tint that characterizes ice under great pressure. these ice streams move slowly down the valleys, about one foot in twenty-four hours, conforming to their beds. where the bed is inclined, the glacier breaks into innumerable masses, somewhat regular, with great yawning crevasses between. while crossing one of the white river glaciers below an ice-fall i had to stand clear of a dozen bowlders that came rolling down from the brink, telling very forcibly that the glacier was moving. these glaciers plow their way down the valleys to an elevation of between and feet, and there dissolve into water. some of them terminate in a gentle incline; others present a high wall of clear ice, with the river issuing from an immense cave; still others deposit vast quantities of stones and earth, forming what is called the "terminal moraine." the glaciers of the northern peak, five in number, form the puyallup and its principal tributary, the carbon; the twelve glaciers of the eastern slope of crater peak yield the icy waters of the white and cowlitz; the glaciers of the southern peak form the several sources of the nisqually. the glaciers are from one to two miles in width, and from six to twelve miles in length. like the rivers which they form, they themselves have tributaries. when two glaciers unite, their inside lateral moraines join and form a medial moraine. the ascent of mount rainier is difficult and dangerous. three different parties have reached the summit from the south side--namely, hazard stevens and p. b. van trump in ; p. b. van trump, james longmire and mr. bailey, in ; and a party of seven, of which the writer was the projector, in august of the present year. a party of three from snohomish claim to have reached the summit by the northeast side in the summer of . several others and myself have made two attempts to reach the summit from that side, but came to an impassable crevasse at an elevation of about , feet on both occasions. on the morning of the th of last august a party of eight gentlemen left seattle for yelm with the necessary equipments and provisions for a two weeks' sojourn among the eternal hills. at yelm we secured the necessary horses to convey our outfit to the snow line on the south side. the day at yelm was clear and beautiful--mount rainier never looked so grand before. its three peaks stood out in bold relief against the sky, while its walls of ice sparkled with resplendent beauty. during the morning and evening the play of colors around its base, extending in graduated bands far towards the zenith, made our artist groan aloud because of his inability to transfer them to canvas. it took us three days from the time we left yelm to reach the longmire mineral springs. these springs were discovered by mr. james longmire in . they number twenty-five or more, and are heavily charged with carbon dioxide and other gases that combine to make the water a very pleasant drink as well as a health-giving beverage. around each spring is an incrustation of soda compounds deposited by the water. one spring, over which a rude bath-house has been constructed, pours forth a large quantity of water at a temperature of ° fahr. a bath in this water is pleasant and invigorating. the view from the springs is very beautiful. on the right is the swift flowing nisqually; on the left, a solid white wall of basaltic rock rises to a height of nearly one thousand feet; while in front, seeming only a mile away, mount rainier stands in silent majesty. there were several visitors at the springs. in the near future these springs will be sought by hundreds of invalids. we would gladly have remained at the springs for several days, but, with the old monarch so near, we could not delay. the next day found all of the party but two on the tramp. that day's work was to ascend to camp of the clouds, distant about five miles from the springs. it was no small task. the trail is steep and rugged, and has been traveled but little. about three miles from the springs it crosses the nisqually. from that point for a mile it is one of the steepest trails i have ever traveled. when the top was reached we were regaled by the sight and odor of flowers that surpassed description in odor and variety. from this point to camp of the clouds, two miles further on, our path was literally strewed with beautiful flowers. this entire region is a paradise for the botanist, and the flowers deserve a much fuller description. at last, after four days of hard tramping, we have reached permanent camp at an elevation of about , feet. here we unpack, pitch our tent and turn our jaded horses loose. here we wish all our friends with us, and here we would gladly remain a month in deep enjoyment of the grandeur and beauty around us, but our time is limited and our friends far away. monday noon, august th, we carefully prepare for the ascent. it is light artillery now--a pair of blankets, a small supply of provisions, principally chocolate, and our alpine staves complete the outfit. with cheerful hearts and steady nerves we begin the climb. it is our purpose to ascend to a height of about , feet and there make camp for the night. soon we pass the timber line. our pathway now lies over the eternal snow, broken only by a projecting spur of the mountain. after five hours of hard climbing, we come to a ridge covered with sand and pumice. from the presence of the latter we know it to be a spot comparatively free from wind, for, on account of the lightness of the pumice, it is easily blown away. here we decide to camp. two by two we go to work preparing our beds. this we do by clearing away the loose stones from a space about three by six feet, stirring the sand up with our pikes and making a wall of rocks around the cleared place. after a half hour's toil we declare our beds prepared. hastily partaking of a little chocolate and hardtack, we "turn in," although the hour is early; but the wind is rising and the sharp, stinging cold is upon us. after passing a miserable night, we break camp at : o'clock. throwing aside our blankets and part of our provisions, we begin the final ascent. our course takes us along the crest of a rocky ridge and beneath a perpendicular wall of basalt over a thousand feet in height. here the courage of one of the party failed him, and he concluded to go no farther. the most dangerous part of the ascent is along the base of this cliff. the earth pitches at an angle of ° from its base, and at three particular places this incline is not over six feet wide, ending in a perpendicular jump-off of fifteen hundred feet to the nisqually glacier below. after a half hour's crouching and crawling we get past this dangerous part of our undertaking. we must now ascend almost perpendicularly one thousand feet to the top of this wall. ordinarily steps have to be cut in the snow and ice, but on this occasion the snow lay in little drifts that served as steps. up this ladder of snow and ice, prepared by the winds, we climb, pausing every few steps "to take breath." the top is reached at last. upon consulting our barometer we find we are , feet above the sea level. a halt is ordered to put six steel brads in the sole of each boot, to prevent us from slipping on the ice and hard snow that we must now encounter. from the crest of this cliff the incline of the mountain to the summit is less than at any other point and consequently fewer crevasses, the terror of the mountaineer. bracing ourselves for the final effort, we resumed the march. on account of the continuous ascent and the rarity of the atmosphere we have to rest every twenty or thirty steps. still ascending, avoiding the crevasses by a zigzag path, we at last reach the last one, or what might more properly be called the first crevasse. this crevasse is formed by the first breaking off of the snow as it begins to slide down the mountain. the upper side is often a perpendicular wall of hard snow from ten to fifty feet high. this same crevasse, for it extends half way round the mountain, prevented our further progress on two previous occasions, when attempting to reach the summit from the northeast slope. luckily on this occasion we found a bridge that afforded us a safe passage over. from this point we can see a clear path to the summit. upward we climb to where the rim of the crater seems but a few hundred feet away. look! there is a jet of steam right ahead; one grand effort and i sit upon the rim of the crater. i shout a word of triumph which sounds strangely shrill to my companions below, who, one by one, soon gain my exalted position. the feeling of triumph that filled the heart of each one as he gained that sublime height can be realized by no one who has not been in a similar position. space precludes an extensive description of the view from our elevated position; washington, oregon and the sound and sea lay below us. a roll of clouds extending entirely around the horizon somewhat obstructed the prospect, yet added to the beauty of the scene. mts. baker, adams, hood, st. helens, and jefferson appeared above the clouds; the cascade and olympic ranges, puget sound and numerous river basins appeared below, while the smoke of distant cities completed the scene. reluctantly turning from this grand panorama of nature, i gave my attention to an examination of the craters. there are two, elliptical in shape, and from one-half to three-fourths of a mile across. their rims are bare outside, and in to an average depth of thirty feet from the crest. this is owing to the internal heat and escaping steam, which issues from a hundred jets within the circumference of the craters. the steam escapes in intermittent jets from little orifices about three-fourths of an inch in diameter. the walls of the crater in some places are quite warm, all of which plainly indicates that mount rainier is a volcano, not extinct but slumbering. the amount of steam that escapes from the crater at any one time varies with the atmospheric pressure. in fact, mount rainier is a reliable barometer, foretelling a storm with certainty. everyone who has noted the appearance of the mountain from time to time is familiar with the peculiar white cloud that is frequently seen suspended just above the summit, while no other clouds are in sight. this peculiar cloud, caused by the condensation of escaping steam, is called "rainier's cap," and is the forerunner of a storm. there was considerable snow in the craters, but it had the appearance of having recently fallen. i believe, should it cease to snow for two or three months, the crater would become entirely bare inside; but this is not possible, for it snows on mount rainier even in midsummer. our party spent about two hours on the summit. we would gladly have tarried longer, but the clouds were gradually approaching from all points, and we did not care to take the chance of spending a night in the crater. our descent in some places was even more dangerous than the ascent, owing to the falling rock. i recall with a shudder the successful dodging of a shower of bowlders on their way down from the top of a cliff two thousand feet above. they were singing as merrily as a cannon ball just shot from a thirty-pounder as they passed my head. our party left the summit about two o'clock, and some of us reached "camp of the clouds" by six o'clock, descending in four hours the same distance that we were twelve hours in covering on the upward climb. the names of the party making this very successful ascent are: john muir, p. b. van trump, a. c. warner, d. w. bass, n. o. booth, c. v. piper and e. s. ingraham. [illustration: professor israel cook russell.] xi. exploring the mountain and its glaciers, by professor i. c. russell the name of professor israel cook russell is permanently associated with mount rainier. he was one of america's noted geologists. he was born near garrattsville, new york, on december , . graduating from the university of the city of new york in , he at once began his career in science. in , he was a member of the united states party at queenstown, new zealand, to observe the transit of venus. from to , he wrought valuable work in geology for the united states geological survey. this took him to alaska and various other parts of the country. he succeeded alexander winchell as professor of geology in the university of michigan in and continued to spend his summers in field work. one of his trips was to the west indies during the eruption of mount pelee. most of his summer trips were devoted to the mountains and valleys of oregon and washington. it was during one of these trips, in the summer of , that he made the explorations of mount rainier the extensive record of which, fully illustrated, appeared in the eighteenth annual report of the united states geological survey for - . the essential portions of that record are here reproduced by permission of director george otis smith of the survey, who also kindly furnished a portrait of his former colleague. professor russell was honored with the doctor of laws degree by his alma mater and by the university of wisconsin. he died suddenly at the zenith of his power in , leaving a widow, mrs. j. augusta (olmstead) russell and three daughters. an earnest appreciation of his character and work by g. k. gilbert was published in the journal of geology, volume xiv, number , november-december, . when the mountaineers club ascended the mountain in they named in his honor russell cliff, a majestic crest near the summit and overlooking the winthrop and emmons glaciers, and later a glacier on the northern slope, near carbon glacier, was named russell glacier. the reconnaissance during which the notes for this essay were obtained began [ ] at carbonado, a small coal-mining town about miles southeast of tacoma, with which it is connected by a branch of the union [northern] pacific railroad. carbonado is situated on the border of the unbroken forest. eastward to beyond the crest of the cascade mountains is a primeval forest, the density and magnificence of which it is impossible adequately to describe to one who is not somewhat familiar with the puget sound region. from carbonado a trail, cut through the forest under the direction of willis in , leads to carbon river, a stream flowing from mount rainier, which it formerly crossed by a bridge that is now destroyed, and thence continues to the west of the mountain to busywild. a branch of this trail leads eastward to the north side of the mountain, making accessible a beautiful region near the timber line, known as spray park. our party consisted of bailey willis, geologist in charge, george otis smith and myself, assistants, and f. h. ainsworth, fred koch, william b. williams, and michael autier, camp hands. from carbonado we proceeded with pack animals along the willis trail, already mentioned, to the crossing of carbon river. we then left the main trail and went up the right bank of the river by a trail recently cut as far as the mouth of chenuis creek. at that locality our party was divided; willis and myself, taking blankets, rations, etc., and crossing the river, proceeded up its bowlder-strewn left bank to the foot of carbon glacier. the remainder of the party cut a trail along the right bank, and in the course of a few days succeeded in making a depot of supplies near where the river emerges from beneath the extremity of the glacier. the pack train was then taken back to near carbonado for pasture. the tramp from carbonado to the foot of the carbon glacier was full of interest, as it revealed the characteristics of a great region, covered with a dense forest, which is a part of the deeply dissected tertiary peneplain surrounding mount rainier. the rocks from carbonado to carbon river crossing are coal bearing. extensive mines are worked at carbonado, and test shafts have been opened at a few localities near the trail which we followed. at carbonado the river flows through a steep-sided canyon about feet deep. near where the willis trail crosses the stream the canyon broadens, is deeply filled with bowlders, and is bordered by forest-covered mountains fully , feet in elevation. on account of the dense forests, the scenery throughout the region traversed is wild and picturesque. at a few localities glimpses were obtained of the great snow-clad dome of mount rainier, rising far over the intervening tree-covered foothills. the forests of the puget sound region are the most magnificent on the continent. the moist atmosphere and genial climate have led to a wonderfully luxuriant growth, especially of evergreens. huge fir trees and cedars stand in close-set ranks and shoot upward straight and massive to heights which frequently exceed feet, and sometimes are even in excess of feet. the trees are frequently to feet or more in diameter at the height of one's head and rise in massive columns without a blemish to the first branches, which are in many instances feet from the ground. the soil beneath the mighty trees is deeply covered with mosses of many harmonious tints, and decked with rank ferns, whose gracefully bending fronds attain a length of to feet. lithe, slender maples, termed vine-maples from their habit of growth, are plentiful, especially along the small water courses. in many places the broad leaves of the devil's club (_fatsia horrida_) give an almost tropical luxuriance to the shadowy realm beneath the lofty canopies formed by the firs and cedars. [a quotation from bailey willis is omitted, as the whole article is published in this work--chapter ix.] the mighty forest through which we traveled from carbonado to the crossing of carbon river extends over the country all about mount rainier and clothes the sides of the mountain to a height of about , feet. from distant points of view it appears as an unbroken emerald setting for the gleaming, jewel-like summit of the snow-covered peak. in spite of the many attractions of the forest, it was with a sense of relief that we entered the canyon of carbon river and had space to see about us. the river presents features of geographical interest, especially in the fact that it is filling in its valley. the load of stone contributed by the glaciers, from which the stream comes as a roaring turbid flood, is greater than it can sweep along, and much of its freight is dropped by the way. the bottom of the canyon is a desolate, flood-swept area of rounded bowlders, from to yards broad. the stream channel is continually shifting, and is frequently divided by islands of bowlders, heaped high during some period of flood. many of the stream channels leading away from mount rainier are known to have the characteristics of the one we ascended, and show that the canyons were carved under different conditions from those now prevailing. the principal amount of canyon cutting must have been done before the streams were overloaded with débris contributed by glaciers--that is, the deep dissection of the lower slope of mount rainier and of the platform on which it stands must have preceded the glacial epoch. after a night's rest in the shelter of the forest, lulled to sleep by the roar of carbon river in its tumultuous course after its escape from the ice caverns, we climbed the heavily moraine-covered extremity of carbon glacier. at night, weary with carrying heavy packs over the chaos of stones that cover the glaciers, we slept on a couch of moss beautified with lovely blossoms, almost within the spray of philo falls, a cataract of clear icy water that pours into the canyon of carbon glacier from snow fields high up on the western wall of the canyon. i will ask the reader to defer the study of the glaciers until we have made a reconnaissance of the mountain and climbed to its summit, as he will then be better prepared to understand the relation of the glaciers, névés, and other features with which it will be necessary to deal. in this portion of our fireside explorations let us enjoy a summer outing, deferring until later the more serious task of questioning the glaciers. from philo falls we ascended still higher, by following partially snow-filled lanes between the long lateral moraines that have been left by the shrinking of carbon glacier, and found three parallel, sharp-crested ridges about a mile long and from to feet high, made of bowlders and stones of all shapes, which record the former positions of the glacier. along the western border of the oldest and most westerly of these ridges there is a valley, perhaps yards wide, intervening between the abandoned lateral moraine and the western side of the valley, which rises in precipices to forest-covered heights at least , feet above. between the morainal ridges there are similar narrow valleys, each of which at the time of our visit, july , was deeply snow-covered. the ridges are clothed with spruce and cedar trees, together with a variety of shrubs and flowering annuals. the knolls rising through the snow are gorgeous with flowers. a wealth of purple bryanthus, resembling purple heather, and of its constant companion, if not near relative, the cassiope, with white, waxy bells, closely simulating the white heather, make glorious the mossy banks from which the lingering snow has but just departed. acres of meadow land, still soft with snow water and musical with rills and brooks flowing in uncertain courses over the deep, rich turf, are beautiful with lilies, which seemed woven in a cloth of gold about the borders of the lingering snow banks. we are near the upper limit of timber growth, where park-like openings, with thickets of evergreens, give a special charm to the mountain side. the morainal ridge nearest the glacier is forest-covered on its outer slope, while the descent to the glacier is a rough, desolate bank of stones and dirt. the glacier has evidently but recently shrunk away from this ridge, which was formed along its border by stones brought from a bold cliff that rises sheer from the ice a mile upstream. standing on the morainal ridge overlooking the glacier, one has to the eastward an unobstructed view of the desolate and mostly stone and dirt covered ice. across the glacier another embankment can be seen, similar to the one on the west, and, like it, recording a recent lowering of the surface of the glacier of about feet. beyond the glacier are extremely bold and rugged mountains, scantily clothed with forests nearly to their summits. the position of the timber line shows that the bare peaks above are between , and , feet high. looking southward, up the glacier, we have a glimpse into the wild amphitheater in which it has its source. the walls of the great hollow in the mountain side rise in seemingly vertical precipices about , feet high. far above is a shining, snow-covered peak, which willis named the liberty cap. it is one of the culminating points of mount rainier, but not the actual summit. its elevation is about , feet above the sea. toward the west the view is limited by the forest-covered morainal ridges near at hand and by the precipitous slopes beyond, which lead to a northward-projecting spur of mount rainier, known as the mother mountains. this, our first view of mount rainier near at hand, has shown that the valley down which carbon glacier flows, as well as the vast amphitheater in which it has its source, is sunk in the flanks of the mountain. to restore the northern slope of the ancient volcano as it existed when the mountain was young we should have to fill the depression in which the glacier lies at least to the height of its bordering ridges. on looking down the glacier we see it descending into a vast gulf bordered by steep mountains, which rise at least , feet above its bottom. this is the canyon through which the water formed by the melting of the glacier escapes. to restore the mountain this great gulf would also have to be filled. clearly the traveler in this region is surrounded by the records of mighty changes. not only does he inquire how the volcanic mountain was formed, but how it is being destroyed. the study of the glaciers will do much toward making clear the manner in which the once smooth slopes have been trenched by radiating valleys, leaving mountain-like ridges between. another line of inquiry which we shall find of interest as we advance is suggested by the recent shrinkage of carbon glacier. are all of the glaciers that flow from the mountain wasting away? if we find this to be the case, what climatic changes does it indicate? from our camp among the morainal ridges by the side of carbon glacier we made several side trips, each of which was crowded with observations of interest. one of these excursions, made by mr. smith and myself, was up the snow fields near camp; past the prominent outstanding pinnacles known as the guardian rocks, one red and the other black; and through spray park, with its thousands of groves of spire-like evergreens, with flower-enameled glades between. on the bare, rocky shoulder of the mountain, where the trees now grow, we found the unmistakable grooves and striations left by former glaciers. the lines engraved in the rock lead away from the mountain, showing that even the boldest ridges were formerly ice-covered. our route took us around the head of the deep canyon through which flows cataract creek. in making this circuit we followed a rugged saw-tooth crest, and had some interesting rock-climbing. finally, the sharp divide between cataract creek and a small stream flowing westward to crater lake was reached, and a slide on a steep snow slope took us quickly down to where the flowers made a border of purple and gold about the margins of the snow. soon we were in the forest, and gaining a rocky ledge among the trees, could look down on crater lake, deeply sunk in shaggy mountains which still preserve all of their primitive freshness and beauty. snow lay in deep drifts beneath the shelter of the forest, and the lake was ice-covered except for a few feet near the margin. this was on july . i have been informed that the lake is usually free of ice before this date, but the winter preceding our visit was of more than usual severity, the snowfall being heavy, and the coming of summer was therefore much delayed. the name crater lake implies that its waters occupy a volcanic crater. willis states that nature has here placed an emerald seal on one of pluto's sally ports; but that the great depression now water-filled is a volcanic crater is not so apparent as we might expect. the basin is in volcanic rock, but none of the characteristics of a crater due to volcanic explosions can be recognized. the rocks, so far as i saw them, are massive lavas, and not fragmental scoriæ or other products of explosive eruptions. on the bold, rounded rock ledges down which we climbed in order to reach the shore, there were deep glacial scorings, showing that the basin was once deeply filled with moving ice. my observations were not sufficiently extended to enable me to form an opinion as to the origin of the remarkable depression, but whatever may have been its earlier history, it has certainly been profoundly modified by ice erosion. following the lake shore southward, groping our way beneath the thick, drooping branches which dip in the lake, we reached the notch in the rim of the basin through which the waters escape and start on their journey to mowich river and thence to the sea. we there found the branch of the willis trail leading to spray park, and turned toward camp. again we enjoyed the luxury of following a winding pathway through silent colonnades formed by the moss-grown trunks of noble trees. on either side of the trail worn in the brown soil the ferns and flowering shrubs were bent over in graceful curves, and at times filled the little-used lane, first traversed fifteen years before. the trail led us to eagle cliff, a bold, rocky promontory rising as does el capitan from the yosemite, , feet from the forest-lined canyon of mowich river. from eagle cliff one beholds the most magnificent view that is to be had in all the wonderful region about mount rainier. the scene beheld on looking eastward toward the mighty mountain is remarkable alike for its magnificence and for the artistic grouping of the various features of the sublime picture. in the vast depths at one's feet the tree-tops, through which the mists from neighboring cataracts are drifting, impart a somber tone and make the valley's bottom seem far more remote than it is. the sides of the canyon are formed by prominent serrate ridges, leading upward to the shining snow fields of the mighty dome that heads the valley. nine thousand feet above our station rose the pure white liberty cap, the crowning glory of the mountain as seen from the northward. the snow descending the northwest side of the great central dome is gathered between the ridges forming the sides of the valley, and forms a white névé from which flows willis glacier. in looking up the valley from eagle cliff the entire extent of the snow fields and of the river-like stream of ice flowing from them is in full view. the ice ends in a dirt-covered and rock-strewn terminus, just above a huge rounded dome that rises in its path. in the ice reached nearly to the top of the dome and broke off in an ice cliff, the detached blocks falling into the gulf below. the glacier has now withdrawn its terminus well above the precipice where it formerly fell as an ice cascade, and its surface has shrunk away from well-defined moraines in much the same manner as has already been noted in the case of carbon glacier. a more detailed account of the retreat of the extremity of willis glacier[ ] will be given later. from eagle cliff we continued our tramp eastward along the trail leading to spray park, climbed the zigzag pathway up the face of a cliff in front of spray falls, and gained the picturesque and beautiful parklike region above. an hour's tramp brought us again near the guardian rocks. a swift descent down the even snow fields enabled us to reach camp just as the shadows of evening were gathering in the deeper canyons, leaving the silent snow fields above all aglow with reflected sunset tints. taking heavy packs on our backs on the morning of july , we descended the steep broken surface of the most recent moraine bordering carbon glacier in its middle course, and reached the solid blue ice below. our course led us directly across the glacier, along the lower border of the rapidly melting covering of winter snow. the glacier is there about a mile across. its central part is higher than its border, and for the most part the ice is concealed by dirt and stones. just below the névé, however, we found a space about half a mile long in which melting had not led to the concentration of sufficient débris to make traveling difficult. farther down the glacier, where surface melting was more advanced, the entire glacier, with the exception of a few lanes of clear ice between the ill-defined medial moraines, was completely concealed beneath a desolate sheet of angular stones. on reaching the east side of the glacier we were confronted with a wall of clay and stones, the inner slope of a moraine similar in all respects to the one we had descended to reach the west border of the glacier. a little search revealed a locality where a tongue of ice in a slight embayment projected some distance up the wall of morainal material, and a steep climb of or feet brought us to the summit. the glacier has recently shrunk--that is, its surface has been lowered from to feet by melting. on the east side of the glacier we found several steep, sharp-crested ridges, clothed with forest trees, with narrow, grassy, and flower-strewn dells between, in which banks of snow still lingered. the ridges are composed of bowlders and angular stones of a great variety of sizes and shapes, and are plainly lateral moraines abandoned by the shrinking of the glacier. choosing a way up one of the narrow lanes, bordered on each side by steep slopes densely covered with trees and shrubs, we found secure footing in the hard granular snow, and soon reached a more open, parklike area, covered with mossy bosses of turf, on which grew a great profusion of brilliant flowers. before us rose the great cliffs which partially inclose the amphitheater in which carbon glacier has its source. these precipices, as already stated, have a height of about , feet, and are so steep that the snow does not cling to them, but descends in avalanches. above the cliffs, where the inclination is less precipitous, the snow lies in thick layers, the edges of which are exposed in a vertical precipice rising above the avalanche-swept rock-slope below. far above, and always the central object in the wild scenery surrounding us, rose the brilliant white liberty cap, one of the pinnacles on the rim of the great summit crater. our way then turned eastward, following the side of the mountain, and led us through a region just above the timber line, which commands far reaching views to the wild and rugged mountains to the northeast. this open tract, leading down to groves of spruce trees and diversified by charming lakelets, bears abundant evidence of having formerly been ice-covered, and is known as moraine park. in order to retain our elevation we crossed diagonally the steep snow slopes in the upper portion of the moraine park. midway over the snow we rested at a sharp crest of rock, and found that it is composed of light-colored granite. later we found that much of the area between the carbon and winthrop glaciers is composed of this same kind of rock. granite forms a portion of the border of the valley through which flow the glaciers just named, and furnished them with much granitic débris, which is carried away as moraines and later worked over into well-rounded bowlders by the streams flowing from the ice. the presence of granite pebbles in the course of carbon and white rivers, far below the glaciers, is thus accounted for. a weary tramp of about miles from the camp we had left brought us to the border of winthrop glacier. in the highest grove of trees, which are bent down and frequently lie prone on the ground, although still living, we selected a well-sheltered camping-place. balsam boughs furnished luxuriant beds, and the trees killed by winter storms enabled us to have a roaring camp fire. fresh trail of mountain goats and their but recently abandoned bed showed that this is a favorite resort for those hardy animals. marmots were also abundant, and frequently awakened the echoes with their shrill, whistling cries. the elevation of our camp was about , feet. from our camp on the cliffs above the west border of winthrop glacier we made excursions across that glacier and to its heavily moraine-covered extremity. the snow mantle that is spread over the region about mount rainier each winter melts first on the rugged plateau surrounding the base of the mountain, and, as the summer's heat increases, gradually withdraws up the mountain sides, but never so as to uncover the more elevated region. the snow line--that is, the position to which the lower border of the mantle of perennial snow withdraws late in summer--has an elevation of about , feet. the lower margin of the wintry covering is always irregular, however, extending farthest down on the glaciers and retreating highest on the rocks. at the time of our visit the snow had melted off of nearly all the region below our camp, leaving only dirt-stained snow banks in the more completely sheltered recesses and in deeply shaded dells in the adjacent forests. on the glaciers all the region at a greater elevation than our camp was white and free from dirt and stones, while the hard glacial ice was abundantly exposed at lower altitudes and ended in a completely moraine-covered terminus. above us all was barren, white, and wintry; below lay the flowery vales and grass parks, warm and inviting, leading to the welcome shade of noble forests. our course led upward into the frozen region. on leaving the camp on the border of winthrop glacier we began our alpine work. there were five in the party selected for the difficult task of scaling mount rainier; namely: willis, smith, ainsworth, williams, and myself. taking our blankets, a small supply of rations, an alcohol lamp, alpenstocks, a rope feet long to serve as a life line, and a few other articles necessary for traveling above timber line, we began the ascent of winthrop glacier early on the morning of july . our route was comparatively easy at the start, but became steeper and steeper as we advanced. the snow was firm and, except for the numerous crevasses, presented no great difficulties to be overcome. in several places the névé rises in domes as if forced up from beneath, but caused in reality by bosses of rock over which the glacier flows. these domes are broken by radiating crevasses which intersect in their central portions, leaving pillars and castle-like masses of snow with vertical sides. at one locality, in attempting to pass between two of these shattered domes, we found our way blocked by an impassable crevasse. considerable time was lost in searching for a practicable upward route, but at length, by making a detour to the right, we found a way which, although steep, allowed us to pass the much crevassed area and gain the sharp ridge of rock which divides the névé snow flowing from the central dome of the mountain, and marks the separation between winthrop and emmons glaciers. this prow-like promontory, rising some feet above the glaciers on either hand, we named the wedge. this is the upward pointing, acute angle of a great v-shaped portion of the lower slope of the mountain, left in bold relief by the erosion of the valleys on either side. as will be described later, there are several of these remnants about the sides of the mountain at the same general horizon, which record a somewhat definite stage in the destruction of the mountain by ice erosion. on reaching the wedge we found it an utterly desolate rocky cape in a sea of snow. we were at an altitude of about , feet, and far above timber. water was obtained by spreading snow on smooth rocks or on rubber sheets, and allowing it to melt by the heat of the afternoon sun. coffee was prepared over the alcohol lamp, sheltered from the wind by a bed sheet supported by alpenstocks. after a frugal lunch, we made shelf-like ledges in a steep slope of earth and stones and laid down our blankets for the night. from sheltered nooks amid the rocks, exposed to the full warmth of the declining sun, we had the icy slopes of the main central dome of the mountain in full view and chose what seemed the most favorable route for the morrow's climb. surrounded as we were by the desolation and solitude of barren rocks, on which not even a lichen had taken root, and pure white snow fields, we were much surprised to receive passing visits from several humming-birds which shot past us like winged jewels. they came up the valley occupied by the emmons glacier, turned sharply at the wedge, and went down the way of the winthrop glacier. what tempts these children of the sunlight and the flowers into the frozen regions seems a mystery. that the humming-birds are bold explorers was not new to me, for the reason that on several occasions in previous years, while on the snow-covered slopes of mount st. elias, far above all vestiges of vegetation, my heart had been gladdened by glimpses of their brilliant plumage. when the sun declined beyond the great snow-covered dome that towered above us, and the blue shadows crept down the previously dazzling cliffs, the air became cold and a strong wind made our perch on the rocks uncomfortable. wrapping ourselves in our blankets we slept until the eastern sky began to glow with sunrise tints. early on the morning of july [ ] we began the climb of the steep snow slopes leading to the summit of the mountain. roped together as we had been on the previous day, we slowly worked our way upward, in a tortuous course, in order to avoid the many yawning crevasses. the way was steep and difficult. some members of the party felt the effects of the rarefied air, and as we lacked experience in true alpine work our progress was slow and laborious. many of the crevasses that our course crossed were of the nature of faults. their upper rims stood several feet above their lower margins, and thus added to the difficulty of passing them. our aim at first was to traverse the névé of emmons glacier and gain the less rugged slope bordering it on the south, but the intervening region was greatly broken and, as we found after several approaches to it, utterly impassable. the climb presented no special difficulties other than the extreme fatigue incident to climbing steep snow slopes, especially while attached to a life line, and the delays necessitated by frequently turning and retracing our steps in order to get around wide crevasses. once while crossing a steep snow slope diagonally, and having a wide crevasse below us, ainsworth, who was next to the rear of the line, lost his footing and slid down the slope on his back. unfortunately, at that instant, williams, who was at the rear of the line, removed his alpenstock from the snow, was overturned by the pull on the line, and shot headfirst down the slope and disappeared over the brink of the crevasse. a strong pull came on the members of the party who were in advance, but our alpenstocks held fast, and before assistance could be extended to the man dangling in midair, he climbed the taut rope and stood unhurt among us once more. the only serious result of the accident was the loss of an alpenstock. pressing on toward the dark rim of rock that we could now and then catch glimpses of at the head of the snow slopes and which we knew to be the outer portion of the summit crater, we crossed many frail snow bridges and climbed precipitous slopes, in some of which steps had to be cut. as we neared the summit we met a strong westerly gale that chilled us and benumbed our fingers. at length, weary and faint on account of the rarity of the air, we gained the lower portion of the rim of stones marking the position of the crater. while my companions rested for a few moments in the shelter of the rocks, i pressed on up the rugged slope and gained the top of the rim. the stones exposed at the summit are bare of snow, possibly on account of the heat from below, and are rounded and their exposed surfaces polished. the smooth, black bowlders shine in the sunlight much the same as the sand-burnished stones in desert regions. here on the mountain's brow, exposed to an almost continuous gale, the rocks have been polished by drifting snow crystals. the prevailing rounded form that the stones present may be the result of weathering, or possibly is due to the manner in which the fragments were ejected from the volcano. my hasty examinations suggested the former explanation. descending into the crater, i discovered crevices from which steam was escaping, and on placing my hands on the rocks was rejoiced to find them hot. my companions soon joined me, and we began the exploration of the crater, our aim being to find the least uncomfortable place in which to take refuge from the freezing blast rather than to make scientific discoveries. the crater that we had entered is one of the smaller and more recent ones in the truncated summit of the peak, and is deeply filled with snow, but the rim is bare and well defined. the steam and heat from the rocks have melted out many caverns beneath the snow. in one of these we found shelter. the cavern we chose in which to pass the night, although irregular, was about feet long by wide, and had an arched ceiling some feet high. the snow had been melted out from beneath, leaving a roof so thin that a diffused blue light penetrated the chamber. the floor sloped steeply, and on the side toward the center of the crater there was a narrow space between the rocks and the descending roof which led to unexplored depths. as a slide into this forbidding gulf would have been exceedingly uncomfortable, if not serious, our life line was stretched from crag to crag so as to furnish a support and allow us to walk back and forth during the night without danger of slipping. three arched openings or doorways communicated with other chambers, and through these drafts of cold air were continually blowing. the icy air chilled the vapor rising from the warm rocks and filled the chamber with steam which took on grotesque forms in the uncertain, fading light. in the central part of the icy chamber was a pinnacle of rock, from the crevices of which steam was issuing with a low hissing sound. some of the steam jets were too hot to be comfortable to the ungloved hand. in this uninviting chamber we passed the night. the muffled roar of the gale as it swept over the mountain could be heard in our retreat and made us thankful for the shelter the cavern afforded. the floor of our cell was too uneven and too steeply inclined to admit of lying down. throughout the night we leaned against the hot rocks or tramped wearily up and down holding the life line. cold blasts from the branching ice chambers swept over us. our clothes were saturated with condensed steam. while one side of the body resting against the rocks would be hot, the strong drafts of air with a freezing temperature chilled the other side. after long hours of intense darkness the dome of snow above us became faintly illuminated, telling that the sun was again shining. after a light breakfast and a cup of tea, prepared over our alcohol lamp, we resumed our exploration, none the worse for the exposures of the night. following the inner rim of the crater so as to be sheltered from the gale still blowing steadily from the west, we gained its northern border and climbed to the topmost pinnacle, known as columbia's crest. this pinnacle rises about feet above the general level of the irregular rim of the crater, and is the highest point on the mountain. its elevation, as previously stated, is , feet.[ ] the magnificent view described by former visitors to this commanding station, which we had hoped would reward our efforts, was concealed beneath a canopy of smoke that covered all of the region about the mountain to a depth of about , feet. the surface of the layer of smoke was sharply defined, and appeared like an undulating sea surrounding the island on which we stood. far to the northward rose the regular conical summit of mount baker, like an isolated sea-girt island. a few of the rugged and more elevated summits, marking the course of the cascade mountains, could be discerned to the eastward. the summits of mount adams and mount st. helens were in plain view and seemingly near at hand. all of the forest-covered region between these elevated summits was blotted out by the dense, heavy layer of smoke, which rose until it met the westerly gale of the upper regions. during the ascent of mount rainier by emmons and wilson, previously referred to, more favorable atmospheric conditions prevailed than at the time of my visit, and the region about the base of the mountain was clearly revealed. in describing the view from the summit emmons says: from the northeastern rim of the crater we could look down an unbroken slope of nearly , feet to the head of the white river, the upper half or two-thirds of which was so steep that one had the feeling of looking over a perpendicular wall. [it was up this slope that the climb briefly described above was made.] the systems of glaciers and the streams which flowed from them lay spread out as on a map at our feet; radiating out in every direction from the central mass, they all with one accord curve to the westward to send their waters down toward puget sound or the lower columbia. [attention has already been directed to the westward curvature of the streams from mount rainier on reaching the tilted peneplain on which the mountain stands, and the explanation has been suggested that they are consequent streams the direction of which was determined by the original slope of the now deeply dissected plateau.] looking to the more distant country, the whole stretch of puget sound, seeming like a pretty little lake embowered in green, could be seen in the northwest, beyond which the olympic mountains extend out into the pacific ocean. the cascade mountains, lying dwarfed at our feet, could be traced northward into british columbia, and southward into oregon, while above them, at comparatively regular intervals, rose the ghost-like forms of our companion volcanoes. to the eastward the eye ranged for hundreds of miles over chain on chain of mountain ridges, which gradually disappeared in the dim, blue distance. in the truncated summit of mount rainier there are three craters. the largest one, partially filled by the building of the two others, is the oldest, and has suffered so greatly from subsequent volcanic explosions and erosion that no more than its general outline can be traced. peak success and liberty cap are prominent points on the rim of what remains of this huge crater. its diameter, as nearly as can be judged, is about - / miles. within the great crater, in the formation of which the mountain was truncated and, as previously stated, lost fully , feet of its summit, there are two much smaller and much more recent craters. the larger of these, the one in which we took refuge, is about yards in diameter, and the second, which is an incomplete circle, its rim having been broken by the formation of its more recent companion, is perhaps yards across. the rim of each now partially snow-filled bowl is well defined, and rises steeply from within to a sharp crest. the character of the inner slopes shows that much rocky material has been detached and has fallen into the cavities from which it was ejected. the rock in the crater walls is in fragments and masses, some of them well rounded and probably of the nature of volcanic bombs. in each of the smaller craters there are numerous steam jets. these show that the rock below is still hot, and that water percolating downward is changed to steam. these steam jets evidently indicate the presence of residual heat and not an actual connection with a volcanic center deep below the surface. all the evidence available tends to show that rainier is an extinct volcano. it belongs, however, to the explosive type of volcanoes, of which vesuvius is the best-known example, and there is no assurance that its energies may not be reawakened. in descending we chose the south side of the mountain, knowing from the reports of many excursionists who had ascended the peak from that direction that a practicable route could probably be found. threading our way between numerous crevasses we soon came in sight of a bold, outstanding rock mass, which we judged to be gibraltar, and succeeded in reaching it with but little difficulty. on gaining the junction of the rock with the snow fields rising above it, we found evidences of a trail, which was soon lost, however, and only served to show that our general course was the right one. a deep, narrow space between the border of nisqually glacier and the precipitous side of gibraltar, from which the snow and ice had been melted by the heat reflected from the cliffs on our left, led us down to a shelf on the lower side of the promontory, which proved a safe and easy way to the crest of a rocky rib on the mountain side which extended far down toward the dark forests in view below. gibraltar is a portion of the cone of rainier built before the explosion which truncated the mountain. it is an outstanding and very prominent rock mass, left in bold relief by the ice excavation which has carved deep valleys on each side. the rock divides the descending névé in the same manner as does the wedge, and causes a part of the snow drainage to flow to the cowlitz and the other part to be tributary to the nisqually glacier. the rocks forming gibraltar consist largely of fragments ejected from the crater above, but present a rude stratification due to the presence of lava flows. when seen from the side and at a convenient distance, it is evident that the planes of bedding, if continued upward at the same angle, would reach above the present summit of the mountain. gibraltar, like the wedge, and several other secondary peaks on the sides of mount rainier, are, as previously explained, the sharp, upward-pointing angles of large v-shaped masses of the original volcanic cone, left in bold relief by the excavation of deep valleys radiating from the central peak. on the backs, so to speak, of these great v-shaped portions of the mountain which now seem to rest against the central dome, secondary glaciers, or interglaciers as they may be termed, have excavated valleys and amphitheaters. in the v-shaped mass of which gibraltar is the apex, a broad amphitheater-like depression has been cut out, leaving a bold cliff above it. the excavation of the amphitheater did not progress far enough up the mountain to cut away the apex of the v-shaped mass, but left it with a precipice on its lower side. this remnant is gibraltar. an attempt will be made later to describe more fully the process of glacial erosion of a conical mountain, and to show that the secondary topographic features of mount rainier are not without system, as they appear at first view, but really result from a process which may be said to have a definite end in view. below gibraltar the descent was easy. our life line was no longer needed. tramping in single file over the hard surfaces of the snow field, remnants of the previous winter's snow, we made rapid progress, and about noon gained the scattered groves of spruce trees which form such an attractive feature of paradise park. fortunately, we found prof. e. s. ingraham, of seattle, and a party of friends, including several ladies, encamped in paradise park, and the hospitality of the camp was extended to us. during the afternoon we basked in the warm sunshine, and in the evening gathered about a roaring campfire and enjoyed the society of our companions, who were enthusiastic in their praise of the wonderful scenes about their camp. the southern side of mount rainier is much less precipitous than its northern face, and the open park-like region near timber line is broader, more diversified, and much more easy of access. the general elevation of the park is between , and , feet, and it is several thousand acres in extent. its boundaries are indefinite. it merges into the heavily forested region to the south, and into more alpine regions on the side toward the mountain, which towers above it on the north. to the east it is bordered by cowlitz glacier, and on the west by nisqually glacier. each of these fine ice rivers descends far below timber line. the small interglacier, known as the paradise glacier, may be considered as lying within the limits of the park. paradise park presents many and varied charms. it is a somewhat rugged land, with a deep picturesque valley winding through it. the trees grow in isolated groves. each bunch of dark-green firs and balsams is a cluster of gracefully tapering spires. the undulating meadows between the shady groves are brilliant in summer with a veritable carpet of gorgeous blossoms. in contrast to the exquisite charms of the groves and flower-decked rolling meadows are desolate ice fields and rugged glaciers which vary, through many tints and shades, from silvery whiteness to intense blue. added to these minor charms, and towering far above them, is the massive summit of rainier. at times the sublime mountain appears steel blue in the unclouded sky, or rosy with the afterglow at sunset, or all aflame with the glories of the newborn day. clouds gather about the lofty summit and transform it into a storm king. avalanches rushing down its side awaken the echoes in the neighboring forest. the appearance of the mountain is never the same on different days; indeed, it changes its mood and exerts a varying influence on the beholder from hour to hour. while the central attraction to the lover of mountain scenery in paradise park is the vast snow-covered dome of mount rainier, there are other mountains in view that merit attention. to the east rises the serrate and rugged tattoosh range, which is remarkable for the boldness with which its bordering slopes rise from the forested region about it and the angularity of its many serrate summits. this range has never been explored except by miners and hunters, who have made no record of their discoveries. it is virgin ground to the geologist and geographer. distant views suggest that the tattoosh mountains have been sculptured from a plateau, probably an upraised peneplain in which there existed a great mass of igneous rock rounded by less resistant tertiary sediments. the softer rocks have been removed, leaving the harder and more resistant ones in bold relief, to become sculptured by rain and frost into a multitude of angular peaks. this attractive, and as yet unstudied, group of peaks is in plain view from paradise park, and may be easily reached from there by a single day's tramp. many other delightful excursions are open to one who pitches his tent in the alpine meadows on the south side of mount rainier. footnotes: [ ] called the north mowich glacier on the present map. [ ] since shown to be , feet. [illustration: professor edgar mcclure.] xii. mcclure's achievement and tragic death, by herbert l. bruce and professor h. h. mcalister visitors to paradise valley, who climb above the camp of the clouds to the snowfields, are sure to be attracted to mcclure rock. it is the scene of one of the mountain's earliest tragedies, in which professor edgar mcclure of the university of oregon lost his life. he was trying to measure accurately the height of the great mountain as he had already done for mount adams and other peaks. the record of his extensive observations was computed with the greatest care by his colleague, professor h. h. mcalister of the university of oregon. an account of the work so tragically ended was prepared by herbert l. bruce. both articles were published in the seattle post-intelligencer for november , , from which paper they are here reproduced. the portrait of professor mcclure is furnished by his brother, horace mcclure, editorial writer for the seattle daily times. the height of the mountain, , feet, thus obtained, remained in use until , when the united states geological survey announced its new and latest findings to be , feet. one of the most tragic incidents in modern science was the death of professor edgar mcclure, who lost his life on mount rainier july , . occupying, as he did, the chair of chemistry in the university of oregon, his personal tastes, instincts and ambitions were essentially scientific. in addition to this he was a member of the mazamas, whose purposes in the line of scientific exploration have lent a romantic interest and a cumulative value to the geography of the northwest. the particular expedition with which professor mcclure was associated when he met his untimely death, left portland with the distinct object of making the ascent of mount rainier, recording such geographical and topographical observations as might be feasible. as a member of the expedition professor mcclure was placed in charge of the elevation department and set before himself a somewhat more distinct and definite purpose, viz., to ascertain by the most approved methods and with the most accurately graduated instruments the precise height of the famous and beautiful mountain. how well he accomplished this purpose will best appear in the subjoined letter from professor e. h. mcalister, his friend and colleague, who with infinite care and sympathetic zeal has worked out the data, which would otherwise have been undecipherable not only to the general public but to the average scholar. as he himself said when he had completed his arduous task: "i have done everything possible to wring the truth from the observations. in my judgment they should become historic on account of the probability of their great accuracy." to the accomplishment of this object professor mcclure brought all the varied resources of a ripe culture and an ardent, vigorous young manhood. his plans were all laid with the greatest care. to him their fulfillment meant not so much a personal or selfish triumph as a victory for science. the very instrument on which he most relied for accurate determinations, as will be seen from professor mcalister's statement, was not only hallowed by scientific associations, but was prepared for its high mission more lovingly and assiduously than a favorite racer would be groomed for the course. twice had it looked upon the beauties of the columbia river from the summit of mount hood, and on three other lofty peaks it had served its silent but efficient ministry to the cause of science. on one of these, mount adams, the altitude determined with this instrument was accepted by the united states government, yet a new tube was filled for it, professor mcclure himself preparing the mercury by distillation, and seeing to it that the vacuum was exceptionally perfect. that the barometer was most carefully handled at the time of observation will fully appear from the record below. it was suspended by a ring and allowed to hang until it had assumed the temperature of the surrounding air before being read. not only this, but all the subsidiary phenomena which could have the slightest bearing on the result were laboriously determined. concurrent observations were made at all salient surrounding stations, while for a week before the date of actual observation professor mcclure himself had made numerous observations both of pressure and of temperature at various sub-stations in the vicinity of mount rainier, and his collaborateur has secured simultaneous observations from seattle and portland. uniting as he did the fervor of the pioneer explorer with the accuracy of the laboratory chemist, professor mcclure was peculiarly fitted to obtain a result which bids fair to become historic. the broken barometer will appeal powerfully to every lover of science. if, as has been suggested, a monument be reared to mark the spot where the young scientist gave up his life, no fitter design could be adopted than a stone shaft bearing on its face a bas-relief of the historic instrument which he bore on his back with sacred care. it is entirely probable that this barometer, coupled with his unselfish solicitude for the safety of other members of the expedition, was the immediate cause of his death. he carried it in a double case; a wooden one which his own hands had constructed, and outside of this a strong leather tube. from the latter stout thongs enabled him to strap the instrument on his back, much as a pioneer huntsman would wear his trusty rifle. while standing on the perilous ledge whence he took the fatal plunge, he turned to sound warning to his companions whom he was leading in a search for the lost pathway down the mountain. "don't come down here; it is too steep," he called, turning so as to make his voice more audible. these were his last words. he vanished in the night and the abyss. it is likely that the tube, three and a half feet in length, caught as he turned and helped to hurl him from his precarious footing. like his own high strung frame, the delicate instrument was shattered; but neither of the twain went away from the world without leaving an imperishable record. it is interesting to note the close correspondence of his independent observations with those made by others. the height of the mountain had been measured many times before he essayed to measure it. some observers had measured it by triangulation, and others, notably major e. s. ingraham, of seattle, had given its altitude from the readings of mercurial barometers. major ingraham gave the height at , feet. it will be noticed that the result obtained by professor mcclure was just four feet greater, a remarkable coincidence at that vast altitude and among conditions of hardship, exposure and uncertainty. prior to professor mcclure's record, the latest measurement of rainier had been made by george f. hyde, of the united states geological survey, in . he pursued the method of triangulation, and, taking as his base a line at ellensburg, in connection with the sea level gauge at tacoma, he figured out the extreme height of rainier at , feet. the value of professor mcclure's determination will be heightened rather than lessened by the peculiar difficulty and rareness of scientific work in an unexplored territory and from a base which has not all the appurtenances and advantages of the older scientific stations of the east and of europe. in this respect his work is like that of agassiz and of audubon. not unlike those great masters was he in his intense and lofty devotion to science. not unlike them he wrought with rigid accuracy where others had worked almost at random. not unlike them he aroused among his friends and students the conviction that he was a born high priest of nature, whose chief mission in the world was to reveal her secrets to mankind. he offered up his life virtually a sacrifice to the cause of popular and practical science, and in as lofty a sense as ever dignified a roman arena he was a martyr to the cause of truth. to use the matchless figure employed by byron in describing the death of henry kirk white, who died a victim to his own passionate devotion to literary art, he was like the struck eagle whose own feather "winged the shaft that quivered in his heart." just in harmony with this thought came countless expressions of sympathy and condolence to the members of professor mcclure's family when the sad news of his death went abroad. one of the most touching, and, to my mind, one of the most typical of all these came from an obscure man in an obscure corner of kentucky. he was not a great man himself, as the world counts greatness, this man in kentucky; but he knew a great man when he saw him. he had known edgar mcclure; and when he heard the circumstances of his death he sat down and wrote a brief note. one sentence in it was worthy of whittier or emerson. it was this: "edgar mcclure died as he had always lived--on the mountain top." in transmitting his results to horace mcclure, brother of the deceased scientist, professor mcalister brings to a proper close a labor of love, one that is as creditable to his scholarly culture as it is to his unselfish and devoted friendship. herbert l. bruce. letter of transmission university of oregon, eugene, or., october , . mr. horace mcclure--dear sir: i herewith transmit to you for publication my report upon the observations of your late brother, professor edgar mcclure, relative to the altitude of mount rainier, the data having been referred to me for reduction and computation by yourself and by the officials of the mazama club. it is but just to myself to say that the long delay in the appearance of this report has been caused by unavoidable difficulties in the collection of subsidiary data; in particular, the comparison sheet showing the instrumental error of professor mcclure's barometer could not be found until the th of this month, when it was discovered among some effects left by him in portland. a further delay has been occasioned in obtaining a few other important data. a report approximately correct could have been made some time ago, but i felt it was due to the memory of professor mcclure's reputation for extreme accuracy that no report whatever should be published until i was able to state a result for which i could vouch as being the very best that the observations were capable of affording. the thanks of all concerned are due to mr. b. s. pague, director of the oregon weather bureau, for numerous courtesies and for his efficient aid in the collection of data. very respectfully, e. h. mcalister, professor of applied mathematics. the result for the benefit of those not interested in the scientific details of this report, it may be stated at once that the summit of mount rainier, according to professor mcclure's observations, is , feet above sea level. the altitudes of various sub-stations occupied en route will be found further on. an account of the data, with description of the methods employed in reduction and computation, is given, to indicate the degree of reliance to be placed upon the result. the principal observation to which this report refers was made by professor edgar mcclure, of the university of oregon, on the summit of mount rainier, washington, july , , at : p.m., pacific standard time. the observation consists of a reading of green's standard mercurial barometer, no. , together with readings of attached and detached thermometers. it appears that the barometer, which was suspended by a ring at the top, was allowed so to hang until it had assumed the temperature of the surrounding air, before being read; that the sky was clear at the time; and that the place of observation, the highest on the mountain, is designated as columbia crest. the barometric reading, corrected for instrumental error and temperature, was . inches; the air temperature was degrees fahrenheit. concurrent observations were made at : a.m. and hourly during the afternoon by the regular observers at seattle, portland, fort canby, the university of oregon at eugene, roseburg, and one observation at walla walla at p.m. in addition to these, during the week preceding the th professor mcclure made numerous observations both of pressure and temperature at various sub-stations in the vicinity of mount rainier, and simultaneous observations are furnished from seattle and portland. at the very outset of the work of reduction it was evident that eugene and roseburg were under an area of relatively low barometric pressure on the th, representing atmospheric conditions that did not prevail in the region of mount rainier. i therefore rejected the observations at both these places, using only those at seattle, portland, fort canby and walla walla. the strategic position of these four points will be seen at once by a glance at the map. the method followed in making the reduction was, in brief, to deduce from the observations at the four base stations surrounding the mountain the actual atmospheric conditions prevailing in the immediate region of the mountain. more specifically, the process consisted in determining the atmospheric pressure and temperature at an imaginary sea level vertically under the mountain, which level i shall subsequently call the "mean base." in this i was greatly assisted by a careful study of the daily weather charts issued by the government, mr. pague having kindly loaned me his official file for july. i thus practically had at my disposal observations from all the important points on the coast, both before and after the principal observation. with due regard to the position and direction of the isobars, and giving proper weight to the observations at each of the four base stations, i finally deduced . inches as the value of the pressure at the mean base which best satisfied all the data. it ought to be said, perhaps, that this result does not depend upon my judgment to any appreciable extent, but was legitimately worked out from the observations and isobaric lines. in determining the mean temperature of the air column extending from the mean base to the summit of the mountain, the observations made by professor mcclure during the previous week in the vicinity were so numerous and well timed as to leave far less than the usual amount of uncertainty. making due allowance for the moderate elevations of the stations, these observations show clearly that the temperature about the mountain at that time followed that of seattle very closely, and was also not much different from that of portland, but departed notably from both the heat of walla walla and the low temperature of fort canby. allowing proper weight to these facts, the observations at the base stations, with that of professor mcclure at the summit, gave degrees fahrenheit as the mean temperature of the air column. i regard the method of reduction outlined above as possessing decided advantages over any other that could be applied to the problem in hand; especially because it admits of using the isobaric charts with great freedom and effectiveness, thereby increasing the reliability of the result to a marked extent. the reduction made, there remained for the final calculation the following data: barometric pressure at the summit of rainier . inches barometric pressure at mean base . inches mean temperature of air column deg. f. latitude of mount rainer deg. min. in making the calculation i used the amplified form of laplace's formula given in the recent publications of the smithsonian institution, with the constants there adopted. perhaps for the general reader it may be important to remark that this formula, besides the barometric pressures, contains corrections for the temperature of the air column; for latitude, and for the variation of gravity with altitude in its effect on the weight of the mercury in the barometer; for the average humidity of the air; and for the variation of gravity with altitude in its effect on the weight of the air. i used the latest edition of the smithsonian tables, but afterward verified the result by a numerical solution of the formula--the altitude being, as stated at the beginning, , feet above sea level. it should be noted as an evidence of the great care and foresight with which professor mcclure planned his work and the success with which he carried it out, that the result of his observations agrees within nine feet with that obtained by the united states geological survey in , using, as we may suppose, the most refined methods of triangulation--the latter estimate being , feet. in connection with so great an altitude, nine feet is an insignificant quantity, and the close correspondence in the results of the two methods of measurement is truly remarkable. i am not inclined to regard it as accidental, but as due to the most careful work in both cases. having a full knowledge of all the available data, i am perhaps better prepared than anyone else to pass judgment upon the result set forth; and while it would be folly to give a numerical estimate of the probable error, i feel justified in saying that no single barometric determination is ever likely to prove more accurate than this one of professor mcclure's. at any rate, the outstanding error is now too small to justify the hazard of any future attempts. from the observations made by professor mcclure while en route to the summit, together with simultaneous records from seattle and portland, the following altitudes are obtained: feet above sea level eatonville kernahan's ranch , longmire springs , mazama camp , camp-no-camp , south side crater rainier , the data in these cases were not sufficient to admit an elaborate working-out of the altitude, so that the figures given are to be regarded as rather close approximations, except in the case of mazama camp, the altitude of which rests upon four observations and is correspondingly reliable. professor mcclure's barometer had a notable history in mountaineering. to quote the professor's own words: "it has twice looked upon the beauties of the columbia river from the summit of mount hood. it was the first barometer taken to the top of mount hood, and gave the true elevation, , feet, in place of , or , feet previously claimed. this barometric measurement of mount hood was made in august, , by a government party under the direction of lieutenant r. s. williamson. the second barometric measurement of mount hood was made with the same instrument in august, , by professor george h. collier." in august, , the barometer was carried by professor mcclure to the summit of diamond peak; in august, , by the writer, to the summit of the middle peak of the three sisters, in oregon, giving an altitude of , feet, not hitherto published; in july, , professor mcclure took it with the mazamas to mount adams, and in july, , to the summit of mount rainier. a new tube was filled and inserted about two years ago, professor mcclure preparing the mercury by distillation and the writer boiling it in the tube. the vacuum was exceptionally perfect. the comparison sheet previously mentioned showed that the instrument on the occasion of its last trip read . inch above standard. in thus completing the labors of professor mcclure, with whom i was so long and so intimately associated, i feel a very melancholy satisfaction. for his sake, i have spared no pains in collecting all the useful data that could be obtained, to make the result reliable to the last degree possible in such a case. i leave that result as a sufficient guarantee of the accuracy of the whole work from beginning to end. [illustration: professor henry landes.] xiii. field notes on mount rainier, by professor henry landes henry landes is professor of geology and dean of the college of science, university of washington, and he has also served as state geologist of washington, since . he was born at carroll, indiana, on december , . he graduated from the university of indiana in and obtained the master of arts degree at harvard university in . he was assistant to the state geologist of new jersey and principal of the high school at rockland, maine, before being elected to his present professorship at the university of washington in . for a year and a half, - , he was acting president of the university of washington. he has published many articles and pamphlets on geological subjects. the one here given appeared in mazama, published in december, , by the mazamas in portland, oregon. it is reproduced here with the permission of the author and of the mountaineering club. the columbia river afforded to the first people who came to washington and oregon the easiest and most feasible route across the cascade mountains. it was through this gateway that travel passed from one side of the range to the other until the advent of the railways in comparatively recent years. the early travelers along the river who were of an observing or scientific bent, noted that the rocks were, in general, dark, heavy and massive and of the class commonly known as basalt. here and there a sort of pudding stone or agglomerate was observed, which in some instances might represent a sedimentary deposit, but which here had clearly an igneous origin. the observations of the early travelers were supplemented later by the further studies of geologists; and from the facts noted along the columbia river, the generalization holds good to a great extent on the oregon side, but it is by no means true on the washington side, as has been shown by later studies. granite rocks are encountered within a few miles of the columbia river as one travels north along the cascade range. associated with these granite rocks are found rocks of a metamorphic type, such as gneiss, schists, quartzites, crystalline limestone, slate, etc. such rocks exist south of mount rainier, but are not conspicuous. north of this point, however, and throughout all of the northern cascades they form the great bulk of the rock. in other words, in the cascades of washington, igneous activity has been much more common in the region south of rainier than in that north of the mountain. when the first observations were made upon the great lava flows of southeastern washington, which form a part of the greatest lava plain in the world, it was supposed that the lava had its origin in the volcanoes of the cascades. later investigations have shown this view to be erroneous. the lava of the plain has come directly from below through great longitudinal fissures instead of through circular openings such as one finds in volcanoes. it is probable that the cascades, like most other mountains, have had several different periods of uplift. we have several notable examples of mountains which have had an initial uplift and then have been reduced to base by erosion. by a second upheaval the plain has been converted into a plateau, and this in time assumes a very rugged, mountainous character as a result of the combined forces of air and water. eventually these same forces would reduce the region to a plain again. just how many times this thing has happened in the cascades we do not know. bailey willis has shown that in the northern cascades, at least, the whole country was reduced to a plain prior to the last uplift, which took place in comparatively recent times. out of this plateau, formed by the uplifting of the plain, has arisen through the active attack of erosive forces the truly mountainous character of the district. erosion has been at the maximum in the mountains because of the heavy precipitation. precipitation in the high mountains being chiefly in the form of snow has led to the formation of glaciers, producing thereby a rapidity of erosion of the first order. the active work of ice and running water has given to the mountains an extremely rugged appearance, characterized by valleys of great depth extending into the very heart of the mountains and with precipitous divides. it must be understood that the time consumed in the uplifting of the cascades, and the conversion from plain to plateau, was of considerable duration. with the beginning of the uplift, the sluggish streams of the plain became rejuvenated, and took up actively once more the work of erosion. by the time the maximum uplift was reached, the plateau had lost to a certain degree its character of extreme levelness. the streams had already entrenched themselves in rather conspicuous valleys. it is believed that the great volcanoes of washington--rainier and its associates--began their activities about the time the uplift described above reached its maximum height. in the vicinity of rainier the rock of the old plateau is granite; and the volcano may be said to be built upon a platform of that material. on the north side of the mountain granite appears conspicuously at a height of about , feet; while on the south side it appears at points varying from , to , feet above the sea. that the surface of the granite platform was irregular and uneven may be seen in the walls of the nisqually canyon, near the lower terminus of the glacier. as one ascends the canyon to the glacier, the contact between the lava rock and the granite shows quite plainly on both the right and the left side. on the left the contact is at least , feet above that on the right side. a little way above the lower end of the glacier, on each side of the canyon, a good opportunity presents itself to study the contact of the lava and granite. the granite at this place shows clearly that it was once a land surface; and one may note weathering for a distance downward of seventy-five or one hundred feet. the upper portion of the granite shows the usual characteristics of weathering, namely, the conversion of feldspar into kaolin, the oxidation of iron, etc. at this point the lava overlying the granite is quite basic and massive. the first flow reached a thickness here of fully three hundred feet, and exhibits a fine development of basaltic structure. in following up the canyon walls one observes that the activity of the volcano for some time was characterized almost exclusively by lava flows. in the main the lava is an andesite, and is very generally of a porphyritic structure. some of the lava flows were of great extent, and reached points many miles distant from the center of the mountain. while the earlier stages of the activity of the volcano were characterized by lava flows of great thickness, by and by explosive products began to appear, and interbedded with the sheets of lava one finds bombs, lapilli, cinders, etc. it may be said in general that as the volcano grew in years it changed more and more from eruptions of the quiet type to those of the explosive character. it is plain that a long period of time was consumed in the making of that great volcanic pile, and that the eruptions were by no means continuous. it is clearly shown that after certain outflows of lava, quietude reigned for a time; that at last the surface of the rock became cool and that erosive agents broke it up into great masses of loose stones. in later flows of lava these stones were picked up and cemented into layers of pudding stone, which are styled agglomerates. rocks of an agglomerate type are well shown in the walls of gibraltar. this massive pile is largely made up of boulders, great and small, rather loosely held together by a lava cement. the work of frost and ice, expansion and contraction, loosens the boulders readily, and their constant falling from the cliffs gives to this part of the mountain's ascent its dangerous character. while this volcano belongs to a very late period in the history of the earth, it is very clear that there has been no marked activity for many thousands of years. the presence of steam, which is emitted from the hundreds of small openings about the crater, undoubtedly shows the presence of heated rock at no great distance below the surface. rock is a poor conductor, however, and cooling takes place with very great slowness after a depth of comparatively few feet is reached. like most volcanoes, the composite character of the cone is shown on mount rainier. after a certain height is reached in the building up of a cone, the rising lava in the throat, or the explosive activities within, sometimes produce an opening through the walls of the cone, and a new outlet to the surface is formed. this often gives the volcano a sort of hummocky or warty appearance, and produces a departure from the symmetrical character. in the case of rainier it seems to the writer that upon the summit four distinct craters, or outlets, are distinguishable. the first crater reached by the usual route of ascent is the largest one, and may be styled the east crater. it is nearly circular in outline, with a diameter of about one-half mile. its walls are bare of snow for nearly the whole of its circumference, but the pit is filled with snow and ice. going across the crater to the westward, one passes over what is really the highest point on the mountain, and then goes down into a smaller crater, or the west crater. this is similar in character and outline to its neighbor, but here the many jets of issuing steam are much more prominent. at a point a few hundred feet lower on the mountain-side there is a peak known as liberty cap. a cross-section of the cap is in plain view and shows very clearly that this is a minor cone or local point of eruption. it is made up of rock very similar to the main mass of the mountain; and it is likely that the volcanic activity of the mountain was centered here for some time. looking directly south from the west crater one sees at a distance of less than a mile another peak which is entirely snow-covered; but which may represent an instance parallel with that of the peak on the north side. mount rainier is so deeply covered with ice and snow that the glacial aspects of the mountain are far more conspicuous than the volcanic ones. the facts about the vulcanism and the history of the growth of the mountain are very difficult to study; and it will be a long time before they are fully known. the glaciers, on the other hand, are very conspicuous, comparatively easy of access, and the many facts concerning their extent, rate of motion, recession, or advance, may be quite readily determined. the glaciers, while very prominent at the present time, were at one time much larger than now. there are many things which go to prove that they formerly reached much farther down the valleys. from the top of the mountain one may see off to the westward for many miles south of puget sound prairies of large size, covering a great many square miles. these prairies represent the plains of gravel derived from the melting glaciers, when these stood in their vicinity. from these points of maximum extension the glaciers have slowly receded to their present position. that the glaciers are receding at the present time is a matter of common observation. at the lower end of the nisqually glacier the advancing line of vegetation is about one-fourth mile below the present limit of the ice. it is the opinion of mr. longmire that the glacier has retreated about that far since he first came to the valley, twenty-five years ago. general stevens was able to point out several instances of notable shrinkages in the glaciers, especially in the paradise glacier, since his ascent of the mountain in . it will interest students of glaciers to know that some permanent monuments have been set up at the lower end of the nisqually glacier; and that arrangements have been made whereby the retreat of the ice may be accurately measured from year to year. [illustration: franÇois Émile matthes.] xiv. glaciers of mount rainier by f. e. matthes françois Émile matthes was born at amsterdam, holland, on march , . after pursuing studies in holland, switzerland and germany, he came to the united states in and graduated from the massachusetts institute of technology in . since he has been at work with the united states geological survey, mostly in the field of topography. he has been honored by and is a member of many scientific societies. his topographic work on the maps of yosemite and mount rainier national parks made for him many appreciative friends on the pacific coast. his pamphlet on "mount rainier and its glaciers" was published by the united states department of the interior in . he secured consent for its republication in the present work. the impression still prevails in many quarters that true glaciers, such as are found in the swiss alps, do not exist within the confines of the united states, and that to behold one of these rare scenic features one must go to switzerland, or else to the less accessible canadian rockies or the inhospitable alaskan coast. as a matter of fact, permanent bodies of snow and ice, large enough to deserve the name of glaciers, occur on many of our western mountain chains, notably in the rocky mountains, where only recently a national reservation--glacier national park--was named for its ice fields; in the sierra nevada of california, and farther north, in the cascade range. it is on the last-named mountain chain that glaciers especially abound, clustering as a rule in groups about the higher summits of the crest. but this range also supports a series of huge, extinct volcanoes that tower high above its sky line in the form of isolated cones. on these the snows lie deepest and the glaciers reach their grandest development. ice clad from head to foot the year round, these giant peaks have become known the country over as the noblest landmarks of the pacific northwest. foremost among them are mount shasta, in california ( , feet); mount hood, in oregon ( , feet); mount st. helens ( , feet), mount adams ( , feet), mount rainier ( , feet), and mount baker ( , feet), in the state of washington. easily king of all is mount rainier. almost feet higher than mount shasta, its nearest rival in grandeur and in mass, it is overwhelmingly impressive, both by the vastness of its glacial mantle and by the striking sculpture of its cliffs. the total area of its glaciers amounts to no less than square miles, an expanse of ice far exceeding that of any other single peak in the united states. many of its individual ice streams are between and miles long and vie in magnitude and in splendor with the most boasted glaciers of the alps. cascading from the summit in all directions, they radiate like the arms of a great starfish. all reach down to the foot of the mountain and some advance considerably beyond. as for the plea that these glaciers lie in a scarcely opened, out-of-the-way region, a forbidding wilderness as compared with maturely civilized switzerland, it no longer has the force it once possessed. rainier's ice fields can now be reached from seattle or tacoma, the two principal cities of western washington, in a comfortable day's journeying, either by rail or by automobile. the cooling sight of crevassed glaciers and the exhilarating flower-scented air of alpine meadows need no longer be exclusive pleasures, to be gained only by a trip abroad. mount rainier stands on the west edge of the cascade range, overlooking the lowlands that stretch to puget sound. seen from seattle or tacoma, and miles distant, respectively, it appears to rise directly from sea level, so insignificant seem the ridges about its base. yet these ridges themselves are of no mean height. they rise , to , feet above the valleys that cut through them, and their crests average , feet in altitude. thus at the southwest entrance of the park, in the nisqually valley, the elevation above sea level, as determined by accurate spirit leveling, is , feet, while mount wow (goat mountain), immediately to the north, rises to an altitude of , feet. but so colossal are the proportions of the great volcano that they dwarf even mountains of this size and give them the appearance of mere foothills. in the tatoosh range pinnacle peak is one of the higher summits, , feet in altitude. that peak rises nearly , feet above the nisqually river, which at longmire has an elevation of , feet, yet it will be seen that mount rainier towers still , feet higher than pinnacle peak. from the top of the volcano one fairly looks down upon the tatoosh range, to the south; upon mount wow, to the southwest; upon the mother mountains, to the northwest, indeed, upon all the ridges of the cascade range. only mount adams, mount st. helens, and mount hood loom like solitary peaks above the even sky line, while the ridges below this line seem to melt together in one vast, continuous mountain platform. and such a platform, indeed, one should conceive the cascade range once to have been. only it is now thoroughly dissected by profound, ramifying valleys, and has been resolved into a sea of wavelike crests and peaks. mount rainier stands, in round numbers, , feet high above its immediate base, and covers square miles of territory, or one-third of the area of mount rainier national park. in shape it is not a simple cone tapering to a slender, pointed summit like fuji yama, the great volcano of japan. it is, rather, a broadly truncated mass resembling an enormous tree stump with spreading base and irregularly broken top. its life history has been a varied one. like all volcanoes, rainier has built up its cone with the material ejected by its own eruptions--with cinders and bombs (steam-shredded particles and lumps of lava), and with occasional flows of liquid lava that have solidified into layers of hard, basaltic rock. at one time it attained an altitude of not less than , feet, if one may judge by the steep inclination of the lava and cinder layers visible in its flanks. then a great explosion followed that destroyed the top part of the mountain, and reduced its height by some , feet. the volcano was left beheaded, and with a capacious hollow crater, surrounded by a jagged rim. later on this great cavity, which measured nearly miles across, from south to north, was filled by two small cinder cones. successive feeble eruptions added to their height until at last they formed together a low, rounded dome--the eminence that now constitutes the mountain's summit. it rises only about feet above the rim of the old crater, and is an inconspicuous feature, not readily identifiable from all sides as the highest point. in fact, so broad is the mountain's crown that from no point at its base can one see the top. the higher portions of the old crater rim, moreover, rise to elevations within a few hundred feet of the summit, and, especially when viewed from below, stand out boldly as separate peaks that mask and seem to overshadow the central dome. especially prominent are peak success ( , feet) on the southwest side, and liberty cap ( , feet) on the northwest side. the altitude of the main summit has for many years been in doubt. several figures have been announced from time to time, no two of them in agreement with each other; but all of these, it is to be observed, were obtained by more or less approximate methods. in the united states geological survey, in connection with its topographic surveys of the mount rainier national park, was able to make a new series of measurements by triangulation methods at close range. these give the peak an elevation of , feet, thus placing it near the top of the list of high summits of the united states. this last figure, it should be added, is not likely to be in error by more than a foot or two and may with some confidence be regarded as final. greater exactness of determination is scarcely practicable in the case of mount rainier, as its highest summit consists actually of a mound of snow the height of which naturally varies somewhat with the seasons and from year to year. this crowning snow mound, which was once supposed to be the highest point in the united states, still bears the proud name of columbia crest. it is essentially a huge snowdrift or snow dune, heaped up by the westerly winds. driving furiously up through the great breach in the west flank of the mountain, between peak success and liberty cap, they eddy lightly as they shoot over the summit and there deposit their load of snow. the drift is situated at the point where the rims of the two summit craters touch, and represents the only permanent snow mass on these rims, for some of the internal heat of the volcano still remains and suffices to keep these rock-crowned curving ridges bare of snow the better part of the year. it is intense enough, even, to produce numerous steam jets along the inner face of the rim of the east crater, which appears to be the most recently formed of the two. the center of this depression, however, is filled with snow, so that it has the appearance of a shallow, white-floored bowl some , feet in diameter. great caverns are melted out by the steam jets under the edges of the snow mass, and these caverns afford shelters which, though uninviting, are not to be despised. they have proved a blessing to more than one party that has found itself compelled to remain overnight on the summit, saving them from death in the icy gales. that mount rainier should still retain so much of its internal heat is not surprising in view of the recency of its eruptions. it is known to have been active at intervals during the last century, and actual record exists of slight eruptions in , , , and . indian legends mention a great cataclysmal outburst at an earlier period. at present the volcano may be regarded as dormant and no apprehension need be felt as to the possibility of an early renewal of its activity. the steam jets in the summit crater, it is true, as well as the hot springs at the mountain's foot (longmire springs), attest the continued presence of subterranean fires, but they are only feeble evidences as compared with the geysers, the steam jets, and the hot springs of the yellowstone national park. yet that region is not considered any less safe to visit because of the presence of these thermal phenomena. in spite of mount rainier's continued activity until within the memory of man its sides appear to have been snow clad for a considerable length of time. indeed, so intense and so long-continued has been the eroding action of the ice that the cone is now deeply ice-scarred and furrowed. most of its outer layers, in fact, appear already to have been stripped away. here and there portions of them remain standing on the mountain's flanks in the form of sharp-crested crags and ridges, and from these one may roughly surmise the original dimensions of the cone. mere details in the volcano's sculpture, these residual masses are, some of them, so tall that, were they standing among ordinary mountains, they would be reckoned as great peaks. particularly noteworthy is little tahoma, a sharp, triangular tooth on the east flank, that rises to an elevation of , feet. in its steep, ice-carved walls one may trace ascending volcanic strata aggregating , feet in thickness that point upward to the place of their origin, the former summit of the mountain, which rose almost half a mile higher than the present top. nor is the great crater rim left by the explosion that carried off the original summit preserved in its entirety. peak success and liberty cap are the only two promontories that give trustworthy indication of its former height and strength. probably they represent the more massive portions on the southwest and northwest sides, respectively, while the weaker portions to the east and south have long since crumbled away under the heavy ice cascades that have been overriding them for ages. only a few small rocky points remain upon which the snows split in their descent. the most prominent, as well as the most interesting, is the one on the southeast side, popularly known as gibraltar rock. really a narrow, wedge-shaped mass, it appears in profile like a massive, square-cut promontory. the trail to the summit of the mountain passes along its overhanging south face and then ascends by a precipitous chute between ice and rock. it is this part of the ascent that is reputed as the most precarious and hazardous. from the rim points downward the ice cover of the cone divides into a number of distinct stream-like tongues or glaciers, each sunk in a great hollow pathway of its own. between these ice-worn trenches the uneroded portions of the cone stand out in high relief, forming as a rule huge triangular "wedges," heading at the sharp rim points and spreading thence downward to the mountain's base. there they assume the aspect of more gently sloping, grassy table-lands, the charming alpine meadows of which paradise park and spray park are the most famous. separating these upland parks are the profound ice-cut canyons which, beyond the glacier ends, widen out into densely forested valleys, each containing a swift-flowing river. no less than a dozen of these ice-fed torrents radiate from the volcano in all directions, while numerous lesser streams course from the snow fields between the glaciers. thus the cone of mount rainier is seen to be dissected from its summit to its foot. sculptured by its own glacier mantle, its slopes have become diversified with a fretwork of ridges, peaks, and canyons. the first ice one meets on approaching the mountain from longmire springs lies in the upper end of the nisqually valley. the wagon road, which up to this point follows the west side of the valley, winding in loops and curves along the heavily wooded mountain flank, here ventures out upon the rough bowlder bed of the nisqually river and crosses the foaming torrent on a picturesque wooden bridge. a scant thousand feet above this structure, blocking the valley to a height of some feet, looms a huge shapeless pile of what seems at first sight only rock débris, gray and chocolate in color. it is the dirt-stained end of one of the largest glaciers--the nisqually. from a yawning cave in its front issues the nisqually stream, a river full fledged from the start. the altitude here, it should be noted, is a trifle under , feet (elevation of bridge is , feet); hence the ice in view lies more than , feet below the summit of the mountain, the place of its origin. and in this statement is strikingly summed up the whole nature and economy of a glacier such as the nisqually. a glacier is not a mere stationary blanket of snow and ice clinging inert to the mountain flank. it is a slowly moving streamlike body that descends by virtue of its own weight. the upper parts are continually being replenished by fresh snowfalls, which at those high altitudes do not entirely melt away in summer; while the lower end, projecting as it does below the snow line, loses annually more by melting than it receives by precipitation, and is maintained only by the continued accession of masses from above. the rate at which the ice advances has been determined by prof. j. n. le conte, of the university of california. in he placed a row of stakes across the glacier, and with the aid of surveying instruments obtained accurate measurements of the distances through which they moved from day to day. he found that in summer, when the movement is greatest, it averages inches per day. this figure, however, applies only to the central portion of the glacier--the main current, so to speak--for the margins necessarily move more slowly, being retarded by friction against the channel sides. the snout of the nisqually glacier, accordingly, is really composed of slowly advancing ice, but so rapid is the melting at this low altitude that it effectually counterbalances the advance, and thus the ice front remains essentially stationary and apparently fixed in place. actually, it is subject to slight back and forward movements, amounting to a foot or more per day; for, as one may readily imagine, fluctuations in snowfall and in temperature, above or below the normal, are ever likely to throw the balance one way or another. a glacier may also make periodic advances or retreats on a larger scale in obedience to climatic changes extending over many years. thus all the glaciers on mount rainier, as well as many in other parts of the world, are at present, and have been for some time, steadily retreating as the result of milder climate or of a lessening in snow supply. only so recently as the nisqually glacier reached down to the place now occupied by the bridge, and it is safe to say that at that time no engineer would have had the daring to plan the road as it is now laid. in the last years, however, the nisqually glacier has retreated fully , feet. evidences of similar wholesale recession are to be observed at the ends of the other glaciers of mount rainier, but the measure of their retreat is not recorded with the precision that was possible in the case of the nisqually glacier. eyewitnesses still live at longmire springs who can testify to the former extension of the nisqually glacier down to the site of the wagon bridge. as one continues the ascent by the wagon road a partial view of the glacier's lower course is obtained, and there is gained some idea of its stream-like character. more satisfying are the views from paradise park. here several miles of the ice stream (its total length is nearly miles) lie stretched out at one's feet, while looking up toward the mountain one beholds the tributary ice fields and ice streams, pouring, as it were, from above, from right and left, rent by innumerable crevasses and resembling foaming cascades suddenly crystallized in place. the turmoil of these upper branches may be too confusing to be studied with profit, but the more placid lower course presents a favorable field for observation, and a readily accessible one at that. a veritable frozen river it seems, flowing between smooth, parallel banks, half a mile apart. its surface, in contrast to the glistening ice cascades above, has the prevailingly somber tint of old ice, relieved here and there by bright patches of last winter's snow. these lie for the most part in gaping fissures or crevasses that run athwart the glacier at short intervals and divide its body into narrow slices. in the upper course, where the glacier overrides obstacles in its bed, the crevasses are particularly numerous and irregularly spaced, sometimes occurring in two sets intersecting at right angles, and producing square-cut prisms. farther down the ice stream's current is more sluggish and the crevasses heal up by degrees, providing a united surface, over which one may travel freely. gradually, also, the glacier covers itself with débris. angular rock fragments, large and small, and quantities of dust, derived from the rock walls bordering the ice stream higher up, litter its surface and hide the color of the ice. at first only a narrow ridge of such material--a moraine, as it is called--accompanies the ice river on each side, resembling a sharp-crested embankment built by human hands to restrain its floods; but toward the lower end of the glacier, as the ice wastes away, the débris contained in it is released in masses, and forms brown marginal bands, fringing the moraines. in fact, from here on down it becomes difficult to tell where the ice of the glacier ends at the sides and where the moraines begin. the lower part of the glacier also possesses a peculiar feature in the form of a débris ridge about midway on its back--a medial moraine. most of the way it stretches like a slender, dark ribbon, gradually narrowing upstream. one may trace it with the eye up to its point of origin, the junction of the two main branches of the glacier, at the foot of a sharp rock spur on the mountain's flank. in the last mile of the nisqually's course, this medial moraine develops from a mere dirt band to a conspicuous embankment, projecting feet above the ice. not the entire body of the ridge, however, is made up of rock débris. the feature owes its elevation chiefly to the protective influence of the débris layer on its surface, which is thick enough to shield the ice beneath from the hot rays of the sun, and greatly retards melting, while the adjoining unprotected ice surfaces are rapidly reduced. a short distance above the glacier's terminus the medial moraine and the ever-broadening marginal bands come together. no more clear ice remains exposed, irregular mounds and ridges of débris cover the entire surface of the glacier, and the moraine-smothered mass assumes the peculiar inchoate appearance that is so striking upon first view. in utter contrast with the glacier's dying lower end are the bright snow fields on the summit in which it commences its career. hard by the rock rim of the east summit crater the snows begin, enwrapping in an even, immaculate layer the smooth sides of the cinder cone. only a few feet deep at first, they thicken downward by degrees, until, a thousand feet below the crater, they possess sufficient depth and weight to acquire movement. occasional angular crevasses here interrupt the slope and force the summit-bound traveler to make wearying detours. looking down into a gash of this sort one beholds nothing but clean snow, piled in many layers. only a faint blue tinges the crevasse walls, darkening but slowly with the depth, in contrast to the intense indigo hue characteristic of the partings in the lower course of the glacier. there the material is a dense ice, more or less crystalline in texture; here it is scarcely more than snow, but slightly compacted and loosely granular--what is generally designated by the swiss term "névé." for several thousand feet down, as far as the , -foot level, in fact, does the snow retain this granular consistency. one reason for the slowness with which it compacts is found in the low temperatures that prevail at high altitudes and preclude any considerable melting. the air itself seldom rises above the freezing point, even in the middle of the day, and as a consequence the snow never becomes soft and mushy, as it does at lower levels. when snow assumes the mushy, "wet-sugar" state, it is melting internally as well as at its outer surface, owing both to the water that soaks into it and to the warming of the air inclosed within its innumerable tiny pores (which tiny air spaces, by the way, give the snow its brilliant whiteness). snow in this condition has, paradoxical though it may sound, a temperature a few tenths of a degree higher than the melting point--a fact recently established by delicate temperature measurements made on european glaciers. it is this singular fact, no doubt, that explains how so many minute organisms are able to flourish and propagate in summer on the lower portions of many glaciers. it may be of interest to digress here briefly in order to speak of these little known though common forms of life. several species of insects are among the regular inhabitants of glaciers. most of them belong to a very low order--the springtails, or _thysanura_--and are so minute that in spite of their dark color they escape the attention of most passers-by. if one looks closely, however, they may readily be observed hopping about like miniature fleas or wriggling deftly into the cavities of the snow. it seems to incommode them but little if in their acrobatic jumps they occasionally alight in a puddle or in a rill, for they are thickly clad with furry scales that prevent them from getting wet--just as a duck is kept dry by its greasy feathers. especially plentiful on the lower parts of the rainier glaciers, and more readily recognized, are slender dark-brown worms of the genus _mesenchytraeus_, about inch in length. millions and millions of them may be seen on favorable days in july and august writhing on the surface of the ice, evidently breeding there and feeding on organic matter blown upon the glacier in the form of dust. so essential to their existence is the chill of the ice that they enter several inches, and sometimes many feet below the surface on days when the sun is particularly hot, reappearing late in the afternoon. mention also deserves to be made of that microscopic plant _protococcus nivalis_, which is responsible for the mysterious pink or light, rose-colored patches so often met with on glaciers--the "red snow" of a former superstition. each patch represents a colony or culture comprising billions of individuals. it is probable that they represent but a small fraction of the total microflora thriving on the snow, the other species remaining invisible for lack of a conspicuous color. to return to the frigid upper névés, it is not to be supposed that they suffer no loss whatever by melting. the heat radiated directly to them by the sun is alone capable of doing considerable damage, even while the air remains below the freezing point. at these high altitudes the sun heat is astonishingly intense, as more than one uninitiated mountain climber has learned to his sorrow by neglecting to take the customary precaution of blacking his face before making the ascent. in a few hours the skin is literally scorched and begins to blister painfully. at the foot of the mountain the sun heat is relatively feeble, for much of it is absorbed by the dust and vapor in the lower layers of the atmosphere, but on the summit, which projects miles higher, the air is thin and pure, and lets the rays pass through but little diminished in strength. the manner in which the sun affects the snow is peculiar and distinctive. instead of reducing the surface evenly, it melts out many close-set cups and hollows, a foot or more in diameter and separated by sharp spires and crests. no water is visible anywhere, either in rills or in pools, evaporation keeping pace with the reduction. if the sun's action is permitted to continue uninterrupted for many days, as may happen in a hot, dry summer, these snow cups deepen by degrees, until at length they assume the aspect of gigantic bee cells, several feet in depth. snow fields thus honeycombed may be met with on the slopes above gibraltar rock. they are wearisome to traverse, for the ridges and spines are fairly resistant, so that one must laboriously clamber over them. most exasperating, however, is the going after a snowstorm has filled the honeycombs. then the traveler, waist deep in mealy snow, is left to flounder haphazard through a hidden labyrinth. of interest in this connection is the great snow cliff immediately west of gibraltar rock. viewed from the foot of that promontory, the sky line of the snow castle fairly bristles with honeycomb spines; while below, in the face of the snow cliff, dark, wavy lines, roughly parallel to the upper surface, repeat its pattern in subdued form. they represent the honeycombs of previous seasons, now buried under many feet of snow, but still traceable by the dust that was imprisoned with them. the snow cliff west of gibraltar rock is of interest also for other reasons. it is the end of a great snow cascade that descends from the rim of the old crater. several such cascades may be seen on the south side of the mountain, separated by craggy remnants of the crater rim. above them the summit névés stretch in continuous fields, but from the rim on down, the volcano's slopes are too precipitous to permit a gradual descent, and the névés break into wild cascades and falls. fully two to three thousand feet they tumble, assembling again in compact, sluggish ice fields on the gentler slopes below. of the three cascades that feed the nisqually glacier only the central one, it is to be observed, forms a continuous connection between the summit névés and the lower ice fields. the two others, viz. the one next to gibraltar and the westernmost of the three, terminate in vertical cliffs, over great precipices of rock. from them snow masses detach at intervals and produce thundering avalanches that bound far out over the inclined ice fields below. especially frequent are the falls from the cliff near gibraltar. they occur hourly at certain times, but as a rule at periods of one or more days. from the westernmost cascade avalanches are small and rare. indeed, as one watches them take place at long intervals throughout a summer one can not but begin to doubt whether they are in themselves really sufficient to feed and maintain so extensive an ice field as lies stretched out under them. surely much more snow must annually melt away from the broad surface of that field, exposed as it lies to the midday sun, than the insignificant avalanches can replace. were they its only source of supply, the ice field, one feels confident, would soon cease to exist. the fact is that the ice field in question is not dependent for its support on the avalanches from above. it may receive some contributions to its volume through them, but in reality it is an independent ice body, nourished chiefly by direct snow precipitation from the clouds. and this is true, in large measure, of all the ice fields lying under the ice cascades. the nisqually glacier, accordingly, is not to be regarded as composed merely of the cascading névés, reunited and cemented together, but as taking a fresh start at these lower levels. improbable though this may seem at first, it is nevertheless a fact that is readily explained. the winter snows on mount rainier are heaviest in the vicinity of its base; indeed, the snowfall at those low levels is several times greater than that on the summit. this in itself may seem anomalous. so accustomed is one to think that the snowfall on high mountains increases with the altitude that it seems strange to find a case in which the opposite is true. yet mount rainier stands by no means alone in this regard. the sierra nevada and the andes, the himalayas and the alps, all show closely analogous conditions. in each of these lofty mountain regions the precipitation is known to be heaviest at moderate altitudes, while higher up it decreases markedly. the reason is that the storm clouds--the clouds that carry most of the rain and snow--hang in a zone of only moderate elevation, while higher up the atmosphere contains but little moisture and seldom forms clouds of any great density. in the rainier region the height of the storm clouds is in large measure regulated by the relief of the cascade range; for it is really this cooling mountain barrier that compels the moisture-laden winds from the pacific ocean to condense and to discharge. it follows that the storm clouds are seldom much elevated above the sky line of the cascade mountains; they cling, so to speak, to its crest and ridges, while the cone of mount rainier towers high above them into serener skies. many a day may one look down from the summit, or even from a halfway point, such as camp muir ( , feet), upon the upper surface of the clouds. like a layer of fleecy cotton they appear, smothering the lower mountains and enveloping the volcano's base. clouds, it is true, are frequently seen gathering about the mountain's crown, usually in the form of a circular cap or hood, precursor of a general storm, but such clouds yield but very little snow. no accurate measurements have been made of the snowfall at the mountain's foot, but in the nisqually valley, at longmire springs, the winter snows are known often to exceed feet in depth. the summer heat at this low level ( , feet) is, of course, abundantly able to remove all of it, at least by the end of may. but higher up every thousand feet of elevation suffices to prolong appreciably the life of the snowy cover. in paradise park, for instance, at altitudes between , and , feet, huge snowdrifts encumber the flowering meadows until far into july. above an altitude of , feet permanent drifts and snow fields survive in certain favored spots, while at the , -foot level the snow line, properly speaking, is reached. above this line considerable snow remains regularly from one winter to the next, and extensive ice fields and glaciers exist even without protection from the sun. it is between the , and , foot levels, however, that one meets with the conditions most favorable for the development of glaciers. below this zone the summer heat largely offsets the heavy precipitation, while above it the snowfall itself is relatively scant. within the belt the annual addition of snow to the ice fields is greater than anywhere else on mount rainier. the result is manifest in the arrangement and distribution of the glaciers on the cone. by far the greater number originate in the vicinity of the , -foot level, while those ice streams which cascade from the summit, such as the nisqually, are in a sense reborn some , feet lower down. a striking example of an ice body nourished wholly by the snows falling on the lower slope of mount rainier is the paradise glacier. in no wise connected with the summit névés, it makes its start at an elevation of less than , feet. situated on the spreading slope between the diverging canyons of the nisqually on the west and of the cowlitz on the northeast, it constitutes a typical "interglacier," as intermediate ice bodies of this kind are termed. its appearance is that of a gently undulating ice field, crevassed only toward its lower edge and remarkably clean throughout. no débris-shedding cliffs rise anywhere along its borders, and this fact, no doubt, largely explains its freedom from morainal accumulations. the absence of cliffs also implies a lack of protecting shade. practically the entire expanse of the glacier lies exposed to the full glare of the sun. as a consequence its losses by melting are very heavy, and a single hot summer may visibly diminish the glacier's bulk. nevertheless it seems to hold its own as well as any other glacier on mount rainier, and this ability to recuperate finds its explanation in the exceeding abundance of fresh snows that replenish it every winter. the paradise glacier, however, is not the product wholly of direct precipitation from the clouds. much of its mass is supplied by the wind, and accumulates in the lee of the high ridge to the west, over which the route to camp muir and gibraltar rock is laid. the westerly gales keep this ridge almost bare of snow, permitting only a few drifts to lodge in sheltered depressions. but east of the ridge there are great eddies in which the snow forms long, smooth slopes that descend several hundred feet to the main body of the glacier. these slopes are particularly inviting to tourists for the delightful "glissades" which they afford. sitting down on the hard snow at the head of such a slope, one may indulge in an exhilarating glide of amazing swiftness, landing at last safely on the level snows beneath. the generally smooth and united surface of the paradise glacier, it may be added, contributes not a little to its attractiveness as a field for alpine sports. on it one may roam at will without apprehension of lurking peril; indeed one can journey across its entire width, from paradise park to the cowlitz rocks, without encountering a single dangerous fissure. this general absence of crevasses is accounted for largely by the evenness of the glacier's bed and by its hollow shape, owing to which the snows on all sides press inward and compact the mass in the center. only toward its frontal margin, where the glacier plunges over an abrupt rock step, as well as in the hump of that part known as stevens glacier, is the ice rent by long crevasses and broken into narrow blades. here it may be wise for the inexperienced not to venture without a competent guide, for the footing is apt to be treacherous, and jumping over crevasses or crossing them by frail snow bridges are feats never accomplished without risk. in the early part of summer the paradise glacier has the appearance of a vast, unbroken snow field, blazing, immaculate, in the sun. but later, as the fresh snows melt away from its surface, grayish patches of old crystalline ice develop in places, more especially toward the glacier's lower margin. day by day these patches expand until, by the end of august, most of the lower ice field has been stripped of its brilliant mantle. its countenance, once bright and serene, now assumes a grim expression and becomes crisscrossed by a thousand seams, like the visage of an aged man. over this roughened surface trickle countless tiny rills which, uniting, form swift rivulets and torrents, indeed veritable river systems on a miniature scale that testify with eloquence to the rapidity with which the sun consumes the snow. strangely capricious in course are these streamlets, for, while in the main gravitating with the glacier's slope, they are ever likely to be caught and deflected by the numerous seams in the ice. these seams, it should be explained, are lines of former crevasses that have healed again under pressure in the course of the glacier's slow descent. as a rule they inclose a small amount of dirt, and owing to its presence are particularly vulnerable to erosion. along them the streamlets rapidly intrench themselves--perhaps by virtue of their warmth, what little there is of it, as much as by actual abrasion--and hollow out channels of a freakish sort, here straight and canal-like, there making sharp zigzag turns; again broadening into profound, canoe-shaped pools, or emptying into deeper trenches by little sparkling cataracts, or passing under tiny bridges and tunnels--a veritable toy land carved in ice. but unfortunately these pretty features are ephemeral, many of them changing from day to day; for, evenings, as the lowering sun withdraws its heat, the melting gradually comes to a halt, and the little streams cease to flow. the soft babbling and gurgling and the often exquisitely melodious tinkle of dripping water in hidden glacial wells are hushed, and the silent frost proceeds to choke up passages and channels, so that next day's waters have to seek new avenues. in the region where the new crevasses open the surface drainage comes abruptly to an end. here gaping chutes of deepest azure entrap the torrents and the waters rush with musical thunder to the interior of the glacier and finally down to its bed. at its lower border the paradise glacier splits into several lobes. the westernmost sends forth the paradise river, which, turning southwestward, plunges over the sluiskin fall (named for the klickitat indian who guided van trump and hazard stevens to the mountain in , when they made the first successful ascent) and runs the length of paradise valley. the middle lobe has become known as stevens glacier (named for hazard stevens) and ends in stevens creek, a stream which almost immediately drops over a precipice of some feet--the fairy falls--and winds southeastward through rugged stevens canyon. the easternmost lobes, known collectively as williwakas glacier, send forth two little cascades, which, uniting, form williwakas creek. this stream is a tributary of the cowlitz river, as is stevens creek. immediately adjoining the paradise glacier on the northeast, and not separated from it by any definite barrier, lies the cowlitz glacier, one of the stateliest ice streams of mount rainier. it flows in a southeasterly direction, and burrows its nose deeply into the forest-covered hills at the mountain's foot. its upper course consists of two parallel-flowing ice streams, intrenched in profound troughs, which they have enlarged laterally until now only a narrow, ragged crest of rock remains between them, resembling a partition a thousand feet in height. at the upper end of this crest stands gibraltar rock. at the point of confluence of the two branches there begins a long medial moraine that stretches like a black tape the whole length of the lower course. to judge by its position midway on the glacier's back, the two tributaries must be very nearly equal in strength, yet, when traced to their sources, they are found to originate in widely different ways. the north branch, named ingraham glacier (after maj. e. s. ingraham, one of rainier's foremost pioneers), comes from the névés on the summit; while the south branch heads in a pocket immediately under gibraltar. no snow comes to it from the summit; hence we can not escape the conclusion that it receives through direct precipitation and through wind drifting about as much snow as its sister branch receives from the summit regions. like the glacier troughs below, the pocket appears to have widened laterally under the influence of the ice, and is now separated from the nisqually ice fields to the west by only a narrow rock partition, the cowlitz cleaver, as it is locally called. up this narrow crest the route to gibraltar rock ascends. the name "cleaver," it may be said in passing, is most apt for the designation of a narrow rock crest of this sort, and well deserves to be more generally used in the place of awkward foreign terms, such as arrete and grat. both branches of the cowlitz glacier cascade steeply immediately above their confluence, but the lower glacier has a gentle gradient and a fairly uneventful course. like the lower nisqually, it is bordered by long morainal ridges, and toward its end acquires broad marginal dirt bands. for nearly a mile these continue, leaving a gradually narrowing lane of clear ice between them. then they coalesce and the whole ice body becomes strewn with rock débris. the cowlitz glacier, including its north branch, the ingraham glacier, measures slightly over miles in length. throughout that distance the ice stream lies sunk in a steep-walled canyon of its own carving. imposing cliffs of columnar basalt, ribbed as if draped in corduroy, overlook its lower course. slender waterfalls glide down their precipitous fronts, like silver threads, guided by the basalt flutings. from the end of the glacier issues the muddy fork of the cowlitz river, which, joining the ohanapecosh, forms the cowlitz river proper, one of the largest streams of the cascade range. for nearly a hundred miles the cowlitz river follows a southwesterly course, finally emptying in the columbia river a short distance below portland, oregon. the name muddy fork is a most apt one, for the stream leaves the glacier heavily charged with débris and mud, and while it gradually clears itself as it proceeds over its gravelly bed, it is still turbid when it reaches the ohanapecosh. that stream is relatively clear, for it heads in a glacier of small extent and little eroding power, and consequently begins its career with but a moderate load; furthermore it receives on its long circuitous course a number of tributaries from the cascade range, all of them containing clear water. the name muddy, however, might with equal appropriateness be given to every one of the streams flowing from the ice fields of mount rainier. so easily disintegrated are the volcanic materials of which that peak is composed, that the glaciers are enabled to erode with great rapidity, even in their present shrunken state. they consequently deliver to the streams vast quantities of débris, much of it in the form of cobbles and bowlders, but much of it also in the form of "rock flour." a considerable proportion of a glacier's erosional work is performed by abrasion or grinding, its bed being scoured and grooved by the rock blocks and smaller débris held by the passing ice. as a result glacier streams ordinarily carry much finely comminuted rock, or rock flour, and this, because of its fineness, remains long in suspension and imparts to the water a distinctive color. in regions of light-colored rocks the glacier streams have a characteristic milky hue, which, as it fades out, passes over into a delicate turquoise tint. but the lavas of mount rainier produce for the most part dark-hued flour, and as a consequence the rivers coming from that peak are dyed a somber chocolate brown. a word may not be out of place here about the sharp daily fluctuations of the ice-fed rivers of the mount rainier national park, especially in view of the difficulties these streams present to crossing. there are fully a score of turbulent rivers radiating from the peak, and as a consequence one can not journey far through the park without being obliged to cross one of them. on all the permanent trails substantial bridges obviate the difficulty, but in the less developed portions of the park, fording is still the only method available. it is well to bear in mind that these rivers, being nourished by melting snow, differ greatly in habit from streams in countries where glaciers are absent. generally speaking, they are highest in summer and lowest in winter; also, since their flow is intimately dependent upon the quantity of snow being melted at a given time, it follows that in summer when the sun reaches its greatest power they swell daily to a prodigious volume, reaching a maximum in the afternoon, while during the night and early morning hours they again ebb to a relatively moderate size. in the forenoon of a warm summer day one may watch them grow hourly in volume and in violence, until toward the middle of the day they become raging torrents of liquid mud in which heavy cobbles and even bowlders may be heard booming as they roll before the current. it would be nothing short of folly to attempt to ford under these conditions, whether on horseback or on foot. in the evening, however, and still better, in the early morning, one may cross with safety; the streams then have the appearance of mere mountain brooks wandering harmlessly over broad bowlder beds. high above the ingraham glacier towers that sharp, residual mass of lava strata known as little tahoma ( , feet), the highest outstanding eminence on the flank of mount rainier. it forms a gigantic "wedge" that divides the ingraham from the emmons glacier to the north. so extensive is this wedge that it carries on its back several large ice fields and interglaciers, some of which, lying far from the beaten path of the tourist, are as yet unnamed. separating them from each other are various attenuated, pinnacled crests, all of them subordinate to a main backbone that runs eastward some miles and terminates in the cowlitz chimneys ( , feet), a group of tall rock towers that dominate the landscape on the east side of mount rainier. most of the ice fields, naturally, lie on the shady north slope of the main backbone; in fact, a series of them extends as far east as the cowlitz chimneys. one of the lesser crests, however, that running southeastward to the upland region known as cowlitz park, also gives protection to an ice body of some magnitude, the ohanapecosh glacier. considerably broader than it is long in the direction of its flow, this glacier lies on a high shelf a mile and a half across, whence it cascades down into the head of a walled-in canyon. formerly, no doubt, it more than filled this canyon, but now it sends down only a shrunken lobe. the stream that issues from it, the ohanapecosh river, is really the main prong and head of the cowlitz river. the largest and most elevated of the ice fields east of little tahoma is known for its peculiar shape as fryingpan glacier. it covers fully square miles of ground and constitutes the most extensive and most beautiful interglacier on mount rainier. it originates in the hollow east side of little tahoma itself and descends rapidly northward, overlooking the great emmons glacier and finally reaching down almost to its level. it is not a long time since the two ice bodies were confluent. the eastern portion of the fryingpan glacier drains northeastward and sends forth several cascading torrents which, uniting with others coming from the lesser ice fields to the east, form the fryingpan river, a brisk stream that joins white river several miles farther north. below the fryingpan glacier there lies a region of charming flower-dotted meadows named summerland, a most attractive spot for camping. cloaking almost the entire east side of mount rainier is the emmons glacier, the most extensive ice stream on the peak (named after samuel f. emmons, the geologist and mountaineer who was the second to conquer the peak in ). about - / miles long and - / miles wide in its upper half, it covers almost square miles of territory. it makes a continuous descent from the summit to the base, the rim of the old crater having almost completely broken down under its heavy névé cascades. but two small remnants of the rim still protrude through the ice and divide it into three cascades. from each of these dark rock islands trails a long medial moraine that extends in an ever-broadening band down to the foot of the glacier. conspicuous lateral moraines accompany the ice stream on each side. there are several parallel ridges of this sort, disposed in successive tiers above each other on the valley sides. most impressively do they attest the extent of the emmons glacier's recent shrinking. the youngest moraine, fresh looking as if deposited only yesterday, lies but feet above the glacier's surface and a scant feet distant from its edge; the older ridges, subdued in outline, and already tinged with verdure, lie several hundred feet higher on the slope. the emmons glacier, like the nisqually and the cowlitz, becomes densely littered with morainal débris at its lower end, maintaining, however, for a considerable distance a central lane of clear ice. the stream which it sends forth, white river, is the largest of all the ice-fed streams radiating from the peak. it flows northward and then turns in a northwesterly direction, emptying finally in puget sound at the city of seattle. on the northeast side of the mountain, descending from the same high névés as the emmons glacier, is the winthrop glacier. not until halfway down, at an elevation of about , feet, does it detach itself as a separate ice stream. the division takes place at the apex of that great triangular interspace so aptly named "the wedge." upon its sharp cliff edge, steamboat prow, the descending névés part, it has been said, like swift-flowing waters upon the dividing bow of a ship at anchor. the simile is an excellent one; even the long foam crest, rising along the ship's side, is represented by a wave of ice. undoubtedly the wedge formerly headed much higher up on the mountain's flank. perhaps it extended upward in the form of a long, attenuated "cleaver." it is easy to see how the ice masses impinging upon it have reduced it to successively lower levels. they are still unrelentingly at work. it is on the back of the wedge, it may be added here, that is situated that small ice body which maj. ingraham named the "interglacier." that name has since been applied in a generic sense to all similar ice bodies lying on the backs of "wedges." of greatest interest on the winthrop glacier are the ice cascades and domes. evidently the glacier's bed is a very uneven one, giving rise to falls and pools, such as one observes in a turbulent trout stream. the cascades explain themselves readily enough, but the domes require a word of interpretation. they are underlain by rounded bosses of especially resistant rock. over these the ice is lifted, much as is the water of a swift mountain torrent over submerged bowlders. immediately above each obstruction the ice appears compact and free from crevasses, but as it reaches the top and begins to pour over it breaks, and a network of intersecting cracks divides it into erect, angular blocks and fantastic obelisks. below each dome there is, as a rule, a deep hollow partly inclosed by trailing ice ridges, analogous to the whirling eddy that occurs normally below a bowlder in a brook. thus does a glacier simulate a stream of water even in its minor details. the domes of the winthrop glacier measure to feet in height. a sample of the kind of obstruction that produces them appears, as if specially provided to satisfy human curiosity, near the terminus of the glacier. there one may see, close to the west wall of the troughlike bed, a projecting rock mass, rounded and smoothly polished, over which the glacier rode but a short time ago. another feature of interest sometimes met with on the winthrop glacier, and for that matter also on the other ice streams of mount rainier, are the "glacier tables." these consist of slabs of rock mounted each on a pedestal of snow and producing the effect of huge toadstools. the slabs are always of large size, while the pedestals vary from a few inches to several feet in height. the origin of the rocks may be traced to cliffs of incoherent volcanic materials that disintegrate under the frequent alternations of frost and thaw and send down periodic rock avalanches, the larger fragments of which bound out far upon the glacier's surface. the snow immediately under these large fragments is effectually protected from the sun and does not melt, while the surrounding snow, being unprotected, is constantly wasting away, often at the rate of several inches per day. thus in time each rock is left poised on a column of its own conserving. there is, however, a limit to the height which such a column can attain, for as soon as it begins to exceed a certain height the protecting shadow of the capping stone no longer reaches down to the base of the pedestal and the slanting rays of the sun soon undermine it. more commonly, however, the south side of the column becomes softened both by heat transmitted from the sun-warmed south edge of the stone, as well as by heat reflected from the surrounding glacier surface, and as a consequence the table begins to tilt. on very hot days, in fact, the inclination of the table keeps pace with the progress of the sun, much after the manner of a sun-loving flower, the slant being to the southeast in the forenoon and to the southwest in the afternoon. as the snow pillar increases in height it becomes more and more exposed and the tilting is accentuated, until at last the rock slides down. in its new position the slab at once begins to generate a new pedestal, from which in due time it again slides down, and so the process may be repeated several times in the course of a single summer, the rock shifting its location by successive slips an appreciable distance across the glacier in a southerly direction. as has been stated, the slabs on glacier tables are always of large size. this is not a fortuitous circumstance; rocks under a certain size, and especially fragments of little thickness, cannot produce pedestals; in fact, far from conserving the snow under them, they accelerate its melting and sink below the surface. this is especially true of dark-colored rocks. objects of dark color, as is well known to physicists, have a faculty for absorbing heat, whereas light-colored objects, especially white ones, reflect it best. dark-colored fragments of rock lying on a glacier, accordingly, warm rapidly at their upper surface and, if thin, forthwith transmit their heat to the snow under them, causing it to melt much faster than the surrounding clean snow, which, because of its very whiteness, reflects a large percentage of the heat it receives from the sun. as a consequence each small rock fragment and even each separate dust particle on a glacier melts out a tiny well of its own, as a rule not vertically downward but at a slight inclination in the direction of the noonday sun. and thus, in some localities, one may behold the apparently incongruous spectacle of large and heavy rocks supported on snow pillars alongside of little fragments that have sunk into the ice. there is also a limit to the depth which the little wells may attain; as they deepen, the rock fragment at the bottom receives the sun heat each day for a progressively shorter period, until at last it receives so little that its rate of sinking becomes less than that of the melting glacier surface. nevertheless it will be clear that the presence of scattered rock débris on a glacier must greatly augment the rate of melting, as it fairly honeycombs the ice and increases the number of melting surfaces. wherever the débris is dense, on the other hand, and accumulates on the glacier in a heavy layer, its effect becomes a protective one and surface melting is retarded instead of accelerated. the dirt-covered lower ends of the glaciers of mount rainier are thus to be regarded as in a measure preserved by the débris that cloaks them; their life is greatly prolonged by the unsightly garment. in many ways the most interesting of all the ice streams on mount rainier is the carbon glacier, the great ice river on the north side, which flows between those two charming natural gardens, moraine park and spray park. the third glacier in point of length, it heads, curiously, not on the summit, but in a profound, walled-in amphitheater, inset low into the mountain's flank. this amphitheater is what is technically known as a glacial cirque, a horseshoe-shaped basin elaborated by the ice from a deep gash that existed originally in the volcano's side. it has the distinction of being the largest of all the ice-sculptured cirques on mount rainier, and one of the grandest in the world. it measures more than a mile and a half in diameter, while its head wall towers a sheer , feet. so well proportioned is the great hollow, however, and so simple are its outlines that the eye finds difficulty in correctly estimating the dimensions. not until an avalanche breaks from the -foot névé cliff above and hurls itself over the precipice with crashing thunder, does one begin to realize the depth of the colossal recess. the falling snow mass is several seconds in descending, and though weighing hundreds of tons, seemingly floats down with the leisureliness of a feather. these avalanches were once believed to be the authors of the cirque. they were thought to have worn back the head wall little by little, even as a waterfall causes the cliff under it to recede. but the real manner in which glacial cirques evolve is better understood to-day. it is now known that cirques are produced primarily by the eroding action of the ice masses embedded in them. slowly creeping forward, these ice masses, shod as they are with débris derived from the encircling cliffs, scour and scoop out their hollow sites, and enlarge and deepen them by degrees. seconding this work is the rock-splitting action of water freezing in the interstices of the rock walls. this process is particularly effective in the great cleft at the glacier's head, between ice and cliff. this abyss is periodically filled with fresh snows, which freeze to the rock; then, as the glacier moves away, it tears or plucks out the frost-split fragments from the wall. thus the latter is continually being undercut. the overhanging portions fall down, as decomposition lessens their cohesion, and so the entire cliff recedes. a glacier, accordingly, may be said, literally, to gnaw headward into the mountain. but, as it does so, it also attacks the cliffs that flank it, and as a consequence, the depression in which it lies tends to widen and to become semicircular in plan. in its greatest perfection a glacial cirque is horseshoe-shaped in outline. the carbon glacier's amphitheater, it will be noticed, consists really of two twin cirques, separated by an angular buttress. but this projection, which is the remnant of a formerly long spur dividing the original cavity, is fast being eliminated by the undermining process, so that in time the head wall will describe a smooth, uninterrupted horseshoe curve. in its headward growth the carbon glacier, as one may readily observe on the map, has encroached considerably upon the summit platform of the mountain, the massive northwest portion of the crater rim of which liberty cap is the highest point. in so doing it has made great inroads upon the névé fields that send down the avalanches, and has reduced this source of supply. on the other hand, by deploying laterally, the glacier has succeeded in capturing part of the névés formerly tributary to the ice fields to the west, and has made good some of the losses due to its headward cutting. but, after all, these are events of relatively slight importance in the glacier's career; for like the lower ice fields of the nisqually, and like most glaciers on the lower slopes of the mountain, the carbon glacier is not wholly dependent upon the summit névés for its supply of ice. the avalanches, imposing though they are, contribute but a minor portion of its total bulk. most of its mass is derived directly from the low hanging snow clouds, or is blown into the cirque by eddying winds. how abundantly capable these agents are to create large ice bodies at low altitudes is convincingly demonstrated by the extensive névé fields immediately west of the carbon glacier, for which the name russell glacier has recently been proposed. it is to be noted, however, that these ice fields lie spread out on shelves fairly exposed to sun and wind. how much better adapted for the accumulation of snow is the carbon glacier's amphitheater! not only does it constitute an admirably designed catchment basin for wind-blown snow, but an effective conserver of the névés collecting in it. opening to the north only, its encircling cliffs thoroughly shield the contained ice mass from the sun. by its very form, moreover, it tends to prolong the glacier's life, for the latter lies compactly in the hollow with a relatively small surface exposed to melting. the cirque, therefore, is at once the product of the glacier and its generator and conserver. of the lower course of the carbon glacier little need here be said, as it does not differ materially from the lower courses of the glaciers already described. it may be mentioned, however, that toward its terminus the glacier makes a steep descent and develops a series of parallel medial moraines and that it reaches down to an elevation of , feet, almost feet lower than any other ice stream on mount rainier. a beautiful cave usually forms at the point of exit of the carbon river. west of the profound canyon of the carbon river, there rises a craggy range which the indians have named the mother mountains. from its narrow backbone one looks down on either side into broadly open, semicircular valley heads. some drain northward to the carbon river, some southward to the mowich river. encircling them run attenuated rock partitions, surmounted by low, angular peaks; while cutting across their stairwise descending floors are precipitous steps of rock, a hundred feet in height. on the treads lie scattered shallow lakelets, strung together by little silvery brooks trickling in capricious courses. most impressive is the basin that lies immediately under the west end of the range. smoothly rounded like a bowl, it holds in its center an almost circular lake of vivid emerald hue--that mysterious body of water known as crater lake. let it be said at once that this appellation is an unfortunate misnomer. the basin is not of volcanic origin. it lies in lava and other volcanic rocks, to be sure, but these are merely spreading layers of the cone of mount rainier. ice is the agent responsible for the carving of the hollow. it was once the cradle of a glacier, and that ice mass, gnawing headward and deploying even as the carbon glacier does to-day, enlarged its site into a horseshoe basin, a typical glacial cirque. the lake in the center is a strictly normal feature; many glacial cirques possess such bowls, scooped out by the eroding ice masses from the weaker portions of the rock floor; only it is seldom that such features acquire the symmetry of form exhibited by crater lake. the lakelets observed in the neighboring valley heads--all of which are abandoned cirques--are of similar origin. as for the skeleton character of the dividing crests, it will be readily seen to be the outcome of the headward gnawing of opposing cirques. in some places, even, the deploying process has attenuated the ridges sufficiently to break them through. west of crater lake is an instance of a crest that has thus been breached. it is a significant fact that the empty cirques about the mother mountains lie at elevations ranging between , and , feet; that is, on an average , feet lower than the cirques on mount rainier which now produce glaciers. evidently the snow line in glacial times lay at a much lower level than it does to-day, and the ice mantle of mount rainier expanded not merely by the forward lengthening of its ice tongues but by the birth of numerous new glaciers about the mountain's foot. the large size of the empty cirques and canyons, moreover, leads one to infer that many of these new glaciers far exceeded in volume the ice streams descending the volcano's sides. the latter, it is true, increased considerably in thickness during glacial times, but not in proportion to the growth of the low-level glaciers. nor is this surprising in view of the heavy snow falls occurring on the mountain's lower slopes. there is good reason to believe, moreover, that the cool glacial climate resulted in a general lowering of the zone of heaviest snowfall. it probably was depressed to levels between , and , feet. not only the cirque glaciers about the mother mountains, but all the neighboring ice streams of the glacial epoch originated within this zone, as is indicated by the altitudes of the cirques throughout the adjoining portions of the cascade range. by their confluence these ice bodies produced a great system of glaciers that filled all the valleys of this mountain belt and even protruded beyond its western front. to these extensive valley glaciers the ice flows of mount rainier stood in the relation of mere tributaries. they descended from regions of rather scant snowfall, for the peak in those days of frigid climate rose some , feet above the zone of heaviest snowfall, into atmospheric strata of relative dryness. it may well be, indeed, that it carried then but little more snow upon its summit than it does to-day. the north mowich glacier is the northernmost of the series of ice bodies on the west flank of mount rainier. like the carbon glacier, it heads in a cirque at the base of the liberty cap massif, fed by direct snow precipitation, by wind drifting, and by avalanches. the cirque is small and shallow, not as capacious even as either of the twin recesses in the carbon glacier's amphitheater. as a consequence the ice stream issuing from it is of only moderate volume; nevertheless it attains a length of - / miles. this is due in part to the heavy snows that reënforce it throughout its middle course and in part to overflows from the ice fields bordering it on the south. these ice fields, almost extensive enough to be considered a distinct glacier, are separated from the north mowich glacier only by a row of pinnacles, the remnants evidently of a narrow rock partition or "cleaver," now demolished by the ice. the lowest and most prominent of the rock spires bears the appropriate name of "the needle" ( , feet). the débris-covered lower end of the glacier splits into two short lobes on a rounded boss in the middle of the channel. this boss, but a short time ago, was overridden by the glacier and then undoubtedly gave rise to an ice dome of the kind so numerous farther up on the north mowich glacier and also characteristic of the winthrop glacier. separated from the ice fields of the north mowich glacier by a great triangular ice field (named edmunds glacier) lies the south mowich glacier, also a cirque-born ice stream, heading against the base of the liberty cap massif. it is the shortest of the western glaciers, measuring only a scant miles. aside from the snows accumulating in its ill-shaped cirque it receives strong reënforcements from its neighbor to the south--the puyallup glacier. toward its lower end it splits into two unequal lobes, the southernmost of which is by far the longer. sharp cut rock wedges beyond its front show that when the glacier extended farther down it split again and again. the north lobe is of interest because the stream that cascades from the edmunds glacier runs for a considerable distance under it. in the near future the lobe is likely to recede sufficiently to enable the torrent to pass unhindered by its front. what especially distinguishes the puyallup glacier from its neighbors to the north is the great elevation of its cirque. the carbon, north mowich, and south mowich glaciers all head at levels of about , feet. the amphitheater of the puyallup glacier, on the contrary, opens a full , feet higher up. encircled by a great vertical wall that cuts into the liberty cap platform from the south, it has evidently developed through glacial sapping from a hollow of volcanic origin. from this great reservoir the puyallup glacier descends by a rather narrow chute. then it expands again to a width of three-fourths of a mile and sends a portion of its volume to the south mowich glacier. in spite of this loss it continues to expand, reaching a maximum width of a mile and a total length of miles. no doubt this is accounted for by the heavy snowfalls that replenish it throughout its course. its lower end consists of a tortuous ice lobe that describes a beautiful curve, flanked on the north by a vertical lava cliff. a lesser lobe splits off to the south on a wedge of rock. immediately south of the elevated amphitheater of the puyallup glacier the crater rim of the volcano is breached for a distance of half a mile. through this gap tumbles a voluminous cascade from the névé fields about the summit, and this cascade, reënforced by a flow from the puyallup cirque, forms the great tahoma glacier, the most impressive ice stream on the southwest side. separated from its northern neighbor by a rock cleaver of remarkable length and straightness, it flows in a direct course for a distance of miles. its surface, more than a mile broad in places, is diversified by countless ice falls and cataracts. a mere row of isolated pinnacles indicates its eastern border, and across the gaps in this row its névés coalesce with those of the south tahoma glacier. farther down the two ice streams abruptly part company and flow in wide detours around a cliff-girt, castellated rock mass--glacier island it has been named. the tahoma glacier, about a mile above its terminus, spits upon a low, verdant wedge and sends a lobe southward which skirts the walls of this island rock, and at its base meets again the south tahoma glacier. from here on the two ice streams merge and form a single densely débris-laden mass, so chaotic in appearance that one would scarcely take it for a glacier. numerous rivulets course over its dark surface only to disappear in mysterious holes and clefts. profound, circular kettles filled with muddy water often develop on it during the summer months, and after a brief existence empty themselves again by subglacial passages or by a newly formed crevasse. so abundant is the rock débris released by melting that the wind at times whips it up into veritable dust storms. beautifully regular moraines accompany the ice mass on both sides, giving clear evidence of its recent shrinking. the partner of the tahoma glacier, known as the south tahoma glacier, heads in a profound cirque sculptured in the flanks of the great buttress that culminates in peak success ( , feet). it is interesting chiefly as an example of a cirque-born glacier, nourished almost exclusively by direct snowfalls from the clouds and by eddying winds. in spite of its position, exposed to the midday sun, it attains a length of nearly miles, a fact which impressively attests the ampleness of its ice supply. in glacial times the glacier had a much greater volume and rose high enough to override the south half of glacier island, as is clearly shown by the glacial grooves and the scattered ice-worn bowlders on that eminence. as the glacier shrank it continued for some time to send a lobe through the gulch in the middle of the island. even now a portion of this lobe remains, but it no longer connects with the tahoma glacier. an excellent nearby view of the lower cascades of the south tahoma glacier may be had from the ice-scarred rock platform west of pyramid rock. from that point, as well as from the other heights of [indian] henrys hunting ground, one may enjoy a panorama of ice and rock such as is seen in only few places on this continent. east of the south tahoma glacier, heading against a great cleaver that descends from peak success, lies a triangular ice field, or interglacier, named pyramid glacier. it covers a fairly smooth, gently sloping platform underlain by a heavy lava bed, and breaking off at its lower edge in precipitous, columnar cliffs. into this platform a profound but narrow box canyon has been incised by an ice stream descending from the summit névés east of peak success. this is the kautz glacier, an ice stream peculiar for its exceeding slenderness. on the map it presents almost a worm-like appearance, heightened perhaps by its strongly sinuous course. in spite of its meager width, which averages about , feet, the ice stream attains a length of almost miles and descends to an altitude of , feet. this no doubt is to be attributed in large measure to the protecting influence of the box canyon. it receives one tributary of importance, the success glacier, which heads in a cirque against the flanks of peak success. this ice stream supplies probably one-third of the total bulk of the kautz glacier, as one may infer from the position of the medial moraine that develops at the point of confluence. in the lower course of the glacier this medial moraine grows in width and height until it assumes the proportions of a massive ridge, occupying about one-third of the breadth of the ice stream's surface. a singularly fascinating spectacle is that which the moraine-covered lower end of the glacier presents from the heights of van trump park. a full , feet down one looks upon the ice stream as it curves around a sharp bend in its canyon. a short distance below the glacier's terminus, the canyon contracts abruptly to a gorge only feet in width. so resistant is the columnar basalt in this locality that the ice has been unable to hew out a wider passage. not its entire volume, however, was squeezed through the narrow portal; there is abundant evidence showing that in glacial times when the ice stream was more voluminous it overrode the rock buttresses on the west side of the gorge. the name of p. b. van trump, the hardy pioneer climber of mount rainier, has been attached to the interglacier situated between the kautz and the nisqually glaciers. this ice body lies on the uneven surface of an extensive wedge that tapers upward to a sharp point--one of the remnants of the old crater rim. a number of small ice fields are distributed on this wedge, each ensconced in a hollow inclosed more or less completely by low ridges. by gradually deploying each of these ice bodies has enlarged its site, and thus the dividing ridges have been converted into slender rock walls or cleavers. in many places they have even been completely consumed and the ice fields coalesce. the van trump glacier is the most extensive of these composite ice fields. the rapid melting which it has suffered in the last decades, however, has gone far toward dismembering it; already several small ice strips are threatening to become separated from the main body. in glacial times the van trump glacier sent forth at least six lobes, most of which converged farther down in the narrow valleys traversing the attractive alpine region now known as van trump park. this upland park owes its scenic charm largely to its manifold glacial features and is diversified by cirques, canyons, lakelets, moraines, and waterfalls. in the foregoing descriptions the endeavor has been to make clear how widely the glaciers of mount rainier differ in character, in situation, and in size. they are not to be conceived as mere ice tongues radiating down the slopes of the volcano from an ice cap on its crown. there is no ice cap, properly speaking, and there has perhaps never been one at any time in the mountain's history, not even during the glacial epochs. several of the main ice streams head in the névés gathering about the summit craters, but a larger number originate in profound amphitheaters carved in the mountain's flanks, at levels fully , feet below the summit. in the general distribution of the glaciers the low temperatures prevailing at high altitudes have, of course, been a controlling factor; nevertheless in many instances their influence has been outbalanced by topographic features favoring local snow accumulation and by the heavy snowfalls occurring on the lower slopes. [illustration: george otis smith.] xv. the rocks of mount rainier by george otis smith director george otis smith of the united states geological survey was born at hodgdon, maine, on february , . he graduated from colby college in and obtained his doctor of philosophy degree from johns hopkins university in . he had begun his geological work in and from to he was assistant geologist and geologist of the united states geological survey. since he has been director of that important branch of the government work. he had been studying the rocks of mount rainier before he joined professor russell in the explorations of . the record of those studies was published at the same time as professor russell's report in the eighteenth annual report of the united states geological survey for - . with his permission the record is here reproduced in full. so far as is known to the present editor it is the most complete study yet published on the rocks of mount rainier. the earliest geological observations on the structure of mount rainier were made in by s. f. emmons, of the geological exploration of the fortieth parallel. the rock specimens collected at this time were studied later by messrs. hague and iddings, of the united states geological survey.[ ] this petrographical study showed that "mount rainier is formed almost wholly of hypersthene andesite, with different conditions of groundmass and accompanied by hornblende and olivine in places." the only other petrographical study of these volcanics is that of mr. k. oebbeke, of munich,[ ] upon a small collection made on mount rainier by professor zittel in . on the reconnaissance trips on the northern and eastern slopes of mount rainier, during the seasons of and , the writer had opportunity to make some general observations on the rocks of this mountain, and the petrographical material then collected has since been studied. the observations and collections were of necessity limited, both by the reconnaissance character of the examination and by the mantle of snow and ice which covers so large a part of this volcanic cone. two classes of rock are to be discussed as occurring on mount rainier: the lavas and pyroclastics which compose the volcanic cone and the granitic rocks forming the platform upon which the volcano was built up. volcanic rocks geologic relations on crater peak a dark line of rock appears above the snow, and here the outer slope of the crater rim is found to be covered with blocks of lava. a black, loose-textured andesite is most abundant, and from its occurrence on the edge of this well-defined crater may be regarded as representing the later eruptions of rainier. lower down on the slopes of the mountain opportunities for the study of the structure of the volcanic cone are found in the bold rock masses that mark the apexes of the interglacial areas. examples of these are little tahoma, gibraltar, cathedral rock, the wedge, and the guardian rocks. these remnants of the old surface of the cone, together with the cliffs that bound the lower courses of the glaciers, exhibit the structural relations very well. even when viewed from a distance these cliffs and peaks are seen to be composed of bedded material. projecting ledges interrupt the talus slopes and express differences of hardness in the several beds, while variations in color also indicate separate lava flows and agglomeratic deposits. gibraltar is thus seen to be composed of interbedded lavas and pyroclastics, and on the wedge a similar alternation is several times repeated, a pink agglomerate being exceptionally striking in appearance. these lava flows and beds of volcanic ejectamenta thus exposed dip away from the summit at a low angle. the steepest dip observed was in the amphitheater at the head of carbon glacier, where in the dividing spur the dip to the northeast is about °. some exceptions in the inclination of the beds were noted on the southeastern slope, where in a few cases the layers are horizontal, or even dip toward the central axis of the cone. in general, however, the volcanics composing mount rainier may be said to dip away from the summit at an angle somewhat lower than that of the slopes of the present cone. in the outlying ridges to the north, the mother range, crescent mountain, and the sluiskin mountains, the structure seems to be that of interbedded volcanics approximately horizontal. the extent of the volcanics from the center of eruption has not been determined. similar lava extends to the south, beyond the tattoosh range, and volcanics of similar composition occur to the north, in the tacoma quadrangle. the latter lavas and tuffs may have originated from smaller and less important cones, now destroyed by erosion. a radial dike was observed at only one locality, near the base of little tahoma. in several cases the lava masses, as seen in cross section, are lens-shaped, and where associated with fragmental beds have unconformable relations. this shows that some of the lava flows took the form of streams, relatively narrow, rather than of broad sheets. such a feature is in accord with the distribution of rock types. thus along ptarmigan ridge for considerable vertical and horizontal range the rock shows only slight variation. the distribution of rock types will be more fully discussed in a later paragraph. of how large a part of the lava flows the crater still remaining was the point of origin is a question to be answered only after more detailed observation has been made. the best section for the study of the succession of flows and ejectamenta is the amphitheater at the head of the carbon glacier. the , feet of rock in this bold wall would afford an excellent opportunity for this were it not that frequent avalanches preclude the possibility of geologic study except at long range. megascopic characters the volcanic rocks of rainier are of varying color and texture. dense black rocks with abundant phenocrysts of glassy feldspars, rough and coarse lavas of different tints of pink, red, and purple, and compact light-gray rocks are some of the types represented upon the slopes of this volcanic cone. in color, the majority of the rocks may be grouped together as light gray to dark gray. the black and red lavas are less common. in texture, the rainier lavas are, for the most part, compact. slaggy and scoriaceous phases are common, but probably represent only a small part of the different flows. near the guardian rocks large masses of ropy lava are found which suggest ejected bombs. agglomeratic and tuffaceous rocks are of quite common occurrence, although less important than the lavas. vesicular lavas occur at several localities, and fragments of a light-olive pumice, many as large as a foot in diameter, wholly cover some of the long, gentle slopes southeast of little tahoma and in moraine park. contraction parting or jointing is often observed, being especially characteristic of the basaltic types. the platy parting is the more common, but the columnar or prismatic parting is well exhibited at several localities. the black basaltic lava east of cowlitz glacier shows the latter structure in a striking manner. the blocks resemble pigs of iron in size and shape, and where exposed in a vertical cliff these seem to be piled in various positions. the rocks on the higher slopes of mount rainier are in general very fresh in appearance. an exception may be noted in the case of the rocks at the base of little tahoma, where some alteration is evident. the bright coloring of the surfaces of the lava blocks and the general appearance of the face of the cliff may indicate fumarole action at this point. there is also some decomposition along the inner edge of the crater rim, near the steam vents. on the lower slopes, some distance below the snow line, the freshness of the rock is not a noticeable feature, and it is seen that here weathering is of the nature of chemical decomposition as well as of mechanical disintegration. microscopic characters microscopically these lavas show more uniformity than is apparent megascopically. rocks which in color and texture appear quite diverse are found to be mineralogical equivalents. the majority of these rocks are andesites, the hypersthene-andesites predominating, as was shown by hague and iddings; but over large areas the andesites are decidedly basaltic, and, indeed, many of the lavas are basalts. the megascopic differences are mostly referable to groundmass characters, the color of the rock being dependent upon the color and proportion of glassy base present. therefore the degree of crystallization of groundmass constituents is of more importance in determining the megascopic appearance than is the mineralogical composition, and the basaltic lavas are for the most part light gray in color, while the more acid hypersthene-andesites are often black or red. in petrographic character the lavas range from hypersthene-andesite to basalt. this variation is dependent upon the ferromagnesian silicates, and four rock types are represented--hypersthene-andesite, pyroxene-andesite, augite-andesite, and basalt--any of which may carry small amounts of hornblende. a rigid separation of these rock types, however, is impossible, since insensible gradations connect the most acid with the most basic. in the same flow hypersthene-andesite may occur in one portion, while in close proximity the lava is an augite-andesite. these lavas have groundmass textures that vary from almost holo-crystalline to glassy. the felted or hyalopilitic texture is the most common, and plagioclase is the principal groundmass constituent. the feldspars are lath-shaped, often with castellated terminations. in the more basic phases anhedrons of augite and of olivine appear, and magnetite grains are usually present. flowage is often beautifully expressed by the arrangement of the slender laths of feldspar. among the phenocrysts feldspar is the most prominent. it has the usual twinning characteristic of plagioclase and belongs to the andesine-labradorite series, extinction angles proving basic andesine and acid labradorite to be the most common. zonal structure is characteristic, being noticeable even without the use of polarized light. zonal arrangement of glass inclusions testifies to the vicissitudes of crystallization, and often the core of a feldspar phenocryst is seen to have suffered corrosion by the magma and subsequently to have been repaired with a zone of feldspar more acid in composition. of the darker phenocrysts, the pyroxenes are more abundant than the olivine or hornblende. hypersthene and augite occur alone or together, and are readily distinguished by their different crystallographic habits as well as by their optical properties. the hypersthene is usually more perfectly idiomorphic and occurs in long prisms, with the pinacoidal planes best developed, while the augite is in stout prisms, usually twinned. both are light colored, and the pleochroism of the hypersthene is sometimes quite faint. according to the relative importance of these two pyroxenes, the lavas belong to different types, hypersthene-andesite, pyroxene-andesite, or augite-andesite. olivine occurs in certain of the rainier lavas, in stout prisms somewhat rounded and often with reddened borders. the usual association with apatite and magnetite crystals is noted. the olivine varies much in relative abundance, so as to be considered now an accessory and now an essential constituent, and in the latter case the rock is a basalt. hornblende is not abundant in any of the rocks studied, although typical hornblende-andesite has been described among the specimens collected by professor zittel. where it occurs it is in brown crystals, which have usually suffered magmatic alteration. in one case, where this alteration is less marked, the idiomorphic hornblende is found to inclose a crystal of labradorite, and thus must have been one of the latest phenocrysts to crystallize. it also surrounds olivine in this same rock,[ ] which is a hypersthene-andesite, the hornblende and olivine being only accessory. the different textures of these lavas are doubtless expressive primarily of diversity in the physical conditions of consolidation, but also in part of variations in chemical composition. the variations in mineralogical composition are likewise referable to these two factors, but here the latter is the more important. the hypersthene-augite olivine variation, already referred to, doubtless well expresses the chemical composition of the magma, and deserves to be taken as the chief criterion in the classification of the lavas. as was noted by hague and iddings, the hypersthene and olivine play a like rôle, the former occurring when the silica percentage is somewhat higher than in basalt. it is exceptional to find the two in the same specimen, the one being absent whenever the other is present. the following analysis[ ] of the typical hypersthene-andesite from crater peak shows the lava to be a comparatively acid andesite: analysis of hypersthene-andesite from crater peak, mount rainier per cent. sio_{ } . al_{ }o_{ } . feo . cao . mgo . na_{ }o . k_{ }o . ----- . an analysis[ ] of one of the light-gray, olivine-bearing rocks on the northern slope of the mountain gives a silica percentage of . , and is doubtless representative of the more basic of the rainier lavas. the sporadic occurrence of hornblende in these andesites is principally the result of physical conditions rather than of chemical composition. the magmatic alteration of the phenocrysts of hornblende affords evidence of this variation in consolidation conditions, a diminution of pressure with continuance of slow cooling giving rise to the magmatic alteration of the hornblende. that this change took place during the later stages of consolidation is shown by the relative age of the hornblende, noted above, and also by the fact that in one case a phenocryst of augite, where it abuts against the hornblende, has protected the latter from this alteration. the alteration is in part pseudomorphic, the hornblende retaining its characteristic outlines, but often there has been resorption. in one andesite the abundance of these remnants of hornblende and also of augite anhedrons in the groundmass may justify the conclusion that this augite andesite is of derivative origin, of the class described by washington.[ ] it may be noted also that hypersthene shows a tendency to magmatic alteration, although only rarely. in a basal flow in moraine park, the slaggy and compact phases show differences in phenocrysts as well as in groundmass. the glassy rock has hypersthene as the predominant phenocryst, while feldspar is the more important in the compact and more crystalline andesite. the distribution of the rock types described above is of interest. on the northern slope of the mountain, between willis and carbon glaciers, the characteristic lava is a gray andesite, smooth to rough in texture, and showing platy and columnar parting. hypersthene is not the prevailing pyroxene, and olivine is usually present, often in such abundance as to make the rock a basalt. in moraine park gray andesites also predominate, with both pyroxenes as phenocrysts, but here hypersthene is the more important. on the eastern slope on the wedge, between winthrop and emmons glaciers, the lavas are pyroxene-andesites and vary much in megascopic appearance, although little in microscopic characters. these rocks are quite distinct from any seen to the north. the nunatak in emmons glacier is composed of hypersthene-andesite, but on little tahoma the lava shows more variety. both augite-andesite and hypersthene-andesite occur, while at the southern end of this interglacial rock mass, just east of cowlitz glacier, the cliffs are composed of the prismatic black basalt. on crater peak, and below on gibraltar, hypersthene andesite occurs with considerable variation of color and texture. on the spurs west of nisqually glacier the andesites contain both pyroxenes, the augite being somewhat the more important. the distribution of the volcanic rocks, as determined in the study of reconnaissance collections, indicates that the cone has been built up by eruptions of lava and of fragmental material. the successive lava streams were doubtless of considerable thickness, but were limited in lateral extent. the beds of fragmental material are of the nature of flow breccias and of coarse agglomerates on the higher slopes, while tuffs occur at a greater distance from the center of eruption. this composite cone appears to be remarkably free from radial dikes, which may indicate that the volcanic energy was expended chiefly at the crater. the variation in rock types on different sides of the volcanic cone may be evidence of changes in position of the center of eruption. the destruction of an earlier crater and the eccentric position of a later would give rise to such a radial distribution of lavas as has been described above. granite occurrence the presence of an acid holocrystalline rock on the slopes of mount rainier was first reported by lieutenant kautz in , from whose accounts dr. george gibbs was led to announce the occurrence of granite as a dike in recent lavas.[ ] emmons in observed a cliff of "beautiful white syenitic granite" rising above the foot of nisqually glacier and correctly interpreted the geologic relations. in , on a reconnaissance trip, the writer identified granite among the bowlders composing the lateral moraines of carbon glacier, as well as on the surface of the glacier itself, and in the following season bowlders of granite were found to be plentiful in the river bed at the foot of this glacier. this anomaly of granite bowlders coming from a volcanic peak was also noted in the canyon of the nisqually by emmons. in the somewhat more careful study of the mount rainier rocks, search was made and the granite was found in place at several points on the northeastern slope. a biotite-hornblende-granite was observed on carbon river at the mouth of canada creek, about miles from the summit of mount rainier, and at chenuis falls, miles up the river, a finer grained holocrystalline rock occurs, apparently an aplitic phase of the granite. in the lower portion of carbon glacier, near its eastern edge, a nunatak of granite can be seen, while the same rock occurs farther to the east, beyond the older of the lateral moraines. higher on the slopes of rainier a more marked ridge of granite was traced. a knob rises above the eastern moraine of carbon glacier at an altitude of between , and , feet, and the more prominent features to the east in moraine park also owe their survival to the greater erosion-resisting power of the granite. petrographic description these granites have few features worthy of special mention. hornblende and biotite are the ferromagnesian constituents and vary much in relative importance. the variations from hornblende-granite to biotite-granite occur in the same knob or ridge, and considering all occurrences the two varieties seem to be of equal development. there is also some variation in the amount of quartz present, and in the relative importance of the orthoclase and plagioclase. all of these characters are also found in the granites of the northern cascades. relation to the volcanic rocks along the side of the knob overlooking carbon glacier the granite as seen from a distance appears to be intrusive. blocks of andesite cover the slope, deposited there by the glacier at a time when it possessed greater lateral extent, and the granite talus from above crosses this same slope in a narrow band. the relations prove less deceptive on close examination, and the granite is seen to constitute an older ridge. farther along this ridge, at the cliffs on the north-eastern edge of moraine park, the granitic rock is found over-lain by the lava. the actual contact of the two rocks is concealed by soil filling the crevice left by disintegration along the contact plane. the granite, however, exhibits no intrusive characters, while the overlying andesite becomes scoriaceous in its lower portion, although compact immediately above. this contact is on the southern side of the granite ridge, the crest of which is approximately east-west. this position of the lava contact considerably below the highest occurrence of the granite indicates that the topographic features of this old granite ridge were even more marked at the time of the eruption of the lavas and the building of the volcanic cone. above this ridge of granite on the one side tower the cliffs of bedded volcanics which compose the sluiskin mountains, and on the other is the andesite ridge bounding the canyon of winthrop glacier. thus mount rainier, although a volcanic peak, rests upon an elevated platform of granite which is exposed by erosion at a few points on the slopes of the mountain. summary the volcanic rocks of mount rainier include both lavas and pyroclastics. the breccias, agglomerates, and tuffs, although of striking appearance, are, perhaps, less important elements in the construction of the composite cone. the lavas vary much in color and texture, but these megascopic differences are referable rather to the degree of crystallization of the magma than to its chemical character. the variation in the chemical composition of the lavas expresses itself in mineralogical differences, and thus four rock types are distinguished--hypersthene-andesite, pyroxene-andesite, augite-andesite, and basalt. the distribution of these types indicates a radial arrangement of lava streams, and hypersthene-andesite is the more abundant variety of lava. granite is exposed on the slopes of rainier where erosion has cut away the overlying lava, and it is plain that the volcanic cone rests upon an elevated platform of older rock, approximately , feet above sea level. [illustration: _copyright by harris & ewing, washington, d. c._ professor charles vancouver piper] xvi. the flora of mount rainier by professor charles v. piper charles vancouver piper was born on vancouver island, at victoria, british columbia, on june , . he graduated from the university of washington in and since then has received degrees and honors from other institutions and learned societies. he was professor of botany and zoölogy at the washington agricultural college (now state college of washington) from to . he has been agrostologist in charge of forage crop investigations for the bureau of plant industry, united states department of agriculture, since . he has discovered many new forms of plant life and has published many monographs and books in the field of botany. this account of the flora of mount rainier was first published in the mazama (portland, oregon) in two articles, one in volume ii, number (april, ), and the other in volume ii, number (december, ). they are reproduced with the consent of the editor of the mazama, and professor piper has revised and amplified them for this purpose. up to an elevation of , feet or more the flanks of mount rainier are clothed in a continuous belt of somber forest, broken only where glaciers and their nascent streams have hewn pathways, or where, alas, fire has left desolate slopes marked here and there by the whitened, weather-worn shaft of some old tree, a dreary monument to its destroyed fellows. this forest is composed in its lower reaches largely of douglas spruce. scattered through it in smaller quantities one finds lovely fir, western white pine, western hemlock, a few engelmann spruces, and on the stream banks cedar and yew, and now and then a little cottonwood. at about the , -foot level the character of the forest changes. the western hemlock gives way to the larger-coned black hemlock; the douglas spruce and lovely fir are replaced by the noble fir; and the ragged-barked alaska cedar greets the eye. another thousand feet and the subalpine fir replaces its two near relatives. from this point upward, the forest, now composed only of black hemlock, alaska cedar and subalpine fir, to which in some places the white-bark pine must be added, is confined largely to the crests of ridges and straggles up the mountain in irregular broken lines. between these timbered ridges extensive grassy slopes appear, veritable flower gardens when in their glory. at , feet elevation the timber ceases to be. scraggly prostrate firs and hemlocks, sprawling as it were on the earth for shelter, mark sharply the limit of their endurance. here, too, the continuous carpet of grass and flowers ceases--and a soil of volcanic sand or powdered pumice supports a very different vegetation. at , feet the toughest mountaineer of all the flowering plants, _smelowskia ovalis_, still appears. far above this, however, even to the crater's rim, lichens trace their hieroglyphics on the rocks; and on the steam-warmed rocks of the crater two mosses find lodgment, _hypnum elegans_ hooker?, and _philonotis fontana_ bridel, the latter even in fruit. few plants grow in the dense shades of the lower forests, and these are mainly ericaceous. most plentiful are _vaccinium ovalifolium_, _v. macrophyllum_, _gaultheria ovatifolia_, _menziesia ferruginea_, _pachystima myrsinites_, _cornus canadensis_ and _clintonia uniflora_. here, too, occur several weird-looking whitish or reddish saprophytes, _monotropa hypopitys_, _pterospora andromedea_, and _corallorhiza mertensiana_. on the drier portions of the grassy slopes _lupinus subalpinus_, _castilleja oreopola_, _potentilla flabellifolia_, _pulsatilla occidentalis_, _erigeron salsuginosus_, _polygonum bistortoides_, _phyllodoce empetriformis_, _cassiope mertensiana_ and _vaccinium deliciosum_ are the most attractive plants. where the ground is springy _veratrum viride_ occurs in great clumps and _dodecatheon jeffreyi_, _caltha leptosepala_ and _ranunculus suksdorfii_ are plentiful. in the shelter of the alpine trees _rhododendron albiflorum_, _ribes howellii_ and _arnica latifolia_ flourish. along the rills _gentiana calycosa_, _arnica chamissonis_ and _mimulus lewisii_ form banks of color. on the cliffs _chelone nemorosa_, _spiraea densiflora_, _polemonium humile_ and _castilleja rupicola_ are perhaps most conspicuous. above the limit of trees, in what have been called "pumice fields," a characteristic series of plants appears. this belt ranges in altitude from , to , feet. it is best developed on the east side of the mountain, where the avalanches from little tahoma have covered great areas with more or less finely divided basalt. conspicuous plants of this region are _lupinus lyallii_, _spraguea multiceps_, _polemonium elegans_, _hulsea nana_, _erigeron aureus_, _oreostemma alpigena_, _polygonum newberryi_, _poa suksdorfii_, _draba aureola_ and _smelowskia ovalis_. the last three ascend to above camp muir, altitude , feet. the first botanist to visit mount rainier was dr. william f. tolmie, surgeon of the hudson's bay company, who reached the mountain in . he made considerable collections, which were sent to sir william hooker. among tolmie's plants were several not previously known. the writer collected on the mountain in and again in and . since then the following botanists have made collections on mount rainier: rev. e. c. smith, in and ; dr. e. l. greene, in ; mr. j. b. flett in , and since; mr. m. w. gorman in ; and mr. o. d. allen from to about . most of the work done thus far has been in paradise park and its immediate vicinity. next to this, the flora of spray park is best known. the east slopes of the peak have been partially explored, but to the knowledge of the writer no botanist has ever yet collected on the west slopes. the list of plants here given numbers species. in preparing it, longmire springs, altitude , feet, has been selected as the lowermost limit on the south side of the mountain, and crater lake, altitude about , feet, as the limit on the north side. it is quite certain that a considerable number of lowland plants will have to be added to the list here given, and it is possible that a few have been included that will have to be dropped, as the exact place of collection of some species is not clearly indicated on the labels of the specimens. unless otherwise stated, the notes are based on the writer's observations and specimens, and refer mainly to the paradise park region. there yet remains much to be done in the study of the mount rainier flora. a particularly interesting phase of it lies in the matter of altitudinal distribution of the various species. no attempt is here made to list the plants lower than the ferns. the writer has made considerable collections of the fungi, liverworts and mosses; and mr. o. d. allen has also collected the mosses. these plants should receive a larger amount of attention from botanists who visit the mountain in the future. the following plants were first described from specimens obtained on mount rainier: =petasites nivalis= greene. =luina piperi= robinson. =prenanthes stricta= greene. =oreostemma alpigena= (torrey & gray) greene. =aster amplifolius= greene. =arnica aspera= greene. =castilleja rupicola= piper. =mimulus caespitosus= greene. =veronica allenii= greenman. =pedicularis ornithorhyncha= bentham. =pedicularis contorta= bentham. =pentstemon tolmiei= hooker. =pentstemon newberryi rupicola= piper. =gentiana calycosa= grisebach. =gentiana calycosa stricta= grisebach. =hydrophyllum congestum= wiegand. =polemonium elegans= greene. =polemonium bicolor= greenman. =dodecatheon crenatum= greene. =vaccinium deliciosum= piper. =ligusticum purpureum= coulter & rose. =hesperogenia stricklandi= coulter & rose. =lupinus volcanicus= greene. =stellaria washingtoniana= robinson. =potentilla flabellifolia= hooker. =luzula arcuata major= hooker. =sitanion rigidum= j. g. smith. =sitanion rubescens= piper. =poa saxatilis= scribner & williams. the type specimens of _saxifraga tolmiei_ were collected by tolmie on the "n. w. coast." it is altogether probable that he got them on mount rainier, where the plant is so abundant. list of species =compositae.= (aster family.) =scorzonella borealis= (bongard) greene. a plant much resembling a dandelion, occurring on the north side of the mountain. =troximon alpestre= gray. a plant much resembling the dandelion, frequent on the grassy slopes at , feet altitude. =troximon aurantiacum= hooker. this species has entire mostly basal leaves, and bears a single head of orange or purple flowers. common at , to , feet. =troximon glaucum asperum= (rydberg) piper. (_agoseris leontodon asperum_ rydberg.) a species with large lemon-yellow flowers and hoary pubescent leaves. it occurs in the pumice and lava at , feet altitude and is quite abundant near the base of little tahoma. =hieracium albiflorum= hooker. a tall plant with hairy entire leaves and a rather ample corymb of white flowers. essentially a lowland plant, but occurring up to , feet altitude, especially in burnt ground. =hieracium gracile= hooker. a small hawkweed with yellow flowers in black hairy involucres. a common plant at , to , feet altitude. =cirsium edule= nuttall. plentiful on the ridges of moraine park at the limit of trees. also reported by gorman as occurring in open woods near the timber line in cowlitz canyon. this thistle is abundant at the sea level, and the roots were formerly a favorite food of the indians. =saussurea americana= d. c. eaton. a peculiar plant with leafy stems, two to four feet high, bearing a dense cluster of elongate rayless heads of purple flowers. found only on the high ridge north of the foot of cowlitz glacier. =senecio ochraceus= piper. goat mountains, allen, no. . =senecio triangularis= hooker. a tall species with triangular coarsely dentate leaves and numerous rather small heads of yellow flowers. abundant in the marsh at longmire springs and in wet places on the mountain slopes up to , feet altitude. =senecio ductoris= piper. a low species with thickish crenate leaves and deep yellow heads. found only on the moraine on the south side of cowlitz glacier. =senecio flettii= wiegand. found near cowlitz chimneys by miss winona bailey, in ; previously known only from the olympic mountains. =arnica latifolia= bongard. a smooth cordate leaved plant with one to five heads, resembling small sunflowers. not uncommon up to , feet altitude, especially in the shelter of timber. =arnica mollis= hooker. similar to the preceding, but the leaves oblong, nearly entire, and viscid glandular. abundant along the rivulets, , to , feet altitude. =arnica aspera= greene. described from specimens collected in spray park. it is very similar to _a. mollis_ hooker, but the pubescence is coarser. =arnica eradiata= (gray) heller. closely related to the preceding but easily recognized by its rayless heads. it occurs on the steep slopes above sluiskin falls. =luina hypoleuca= bentham. a beautiful suffruticose plant, six to twelve inches high, with entire oval leaves shining green above and white tomentose beneath. it was originally discovered by dr. lyall, of the international boundary survey, in the cascade mountains at the th parallel. it is not uncommon about mount rainier, occurring on perpendicular cliffs along the cowlitz glacier; in similar places on the banks of the nisqually at longmire springs; and on the gravel bars of the same river. the flowers are cream-colored. =rainiera stricta= greene. (_prenanthes stricta_ greene.) (_luina piperi_ robinson.) (_luina stricta_ robinson.) a tall plant with large oblong entire leaves and a long raceme of yellowish, rayless heads. professor greene makes it the type of a new genus _rainiera_, while dr. robinson refers it to _luina_. the plant has been collected in spray park by professor greene; on the goat mountains, allen; near mount adams, henderson; head of naches river, vasey; and on the high ridge northeast of the foot of cowlitz glacier by the writer. the statement that the plant has milky juice is an error. =petasites speciosa= (nuttall) piper. (_nardosmia speciosa_ nuttall.) abundant along streams up to , feet altitude. easily recognized by its large palmate leaves, which frequently measure a foot or more in diameter. the flowers appear very early in spring with the leaves and have an odor suggesting violets. this species is clearly distinct from the eastern _p. palmata_ (aiton) gray and was long ago well characterized by nuttall. =petasites frigida= (linnaeus) fries. (_petasites nivalis_ greene). common along rivulets , to , feet altitude. resembling the preceding species, but much smaller and with quite different leaves. =achillea lanulosa= nuttall. an alpine form of the common western yarrow. not rare in the decayed lava at , to , feet altitude. =hulsea nana= gray. a sticky plant with pinnatifid leaves and large yellow heads. plentiful on the east side of the mountain near the base of little tahoma in the pumice fields. this seems to be the northernmost limit of the plant. =anaphalis margaritacea occidentalis= greene. the well-known "everlasting flower," which occurs in dry or burnt woods up to , feet altitude. =antennaria media= greene. a small depressed cudweed, only an inch or two high. common at , feet altitude. =antennaria lanata= (hooker) greene. like the preceding but larger and more hairy. grassy slopes at , feet. common. =antennaria racemosa= hooker. collected by allen in the "upper valley of the nisqually." a much larger and greener plant than the preceding species. =erigeron salsuginosus= (richardson) gray. the common pink aster or "daisy" of the grassy slopes. one of the most conspicuous plants at , to , feet altitude, but even ascending to , feet in a much dwarfed form. =erigeron acris debilis= gray. an insignificant white-flowered species, rare at about , feet altitude. =erigeron compositus trifidus= (hooker) gray. a small pinkish aster, with the leaves cut into linear lobes. growing in decayed lava at , feet altitude. =erigeron speciosus= de candolle. a handsome species with entire ciliate leaves and rather numerous heads, with deep violet rays. collected by allen in the goat mountains, no. . =erigeron aureus= greene. (_aplopappus brandegei_ gray.) a beautiful little aster with bright golden rays, the solitary heads on scapes two or three inches tall. abundant in the pumice, , - , feet altitude. =aster ledophyllus= gray. a tall species with leafy stems, and numerous middle-sized heads with pink-purple rays. the leaves are entire, pubescent on the under side. not uncommon on the grassy slopes at , feet altitude. =aster foliaceus frondeus= gray. (_aster amplifolius_ greene.) a species with broad half-clasping leaves and deep-violet-colored rays. professor greene's type came from mount rainier, but his species seems not to differ from the plant earlier described by dr. gray. =oreostemma alpigena= (torrey & gray) greene. (_aster pulchellus_ d. c. eaton.) a low plant with narrow tufted leaves, the scapes bearing one or rarely two large heads. the rays are deep violet. the plant is common in the pumice fields at , - , feet altitude, but, strange to say, also occurs on the borders of small lakes at the foot of pinnacle peak at , feet elevation. in exposed places at high altitudes the leaves are often curiously twisted. it was originally described from the specimen collected on mount rainier by tolmie. =solidago algida= piper. a small goldenrod, two to twelve inches tall, occurring ordinarily on the faces of perpendicular cliffs at , to , feet elevation. =artemisia borealis wormskioldii= besser. a silky canescent wormwood about one foot high, its leaves pinnate; found on the north side of the mountain by flett. =artemisia richardsoniana= besser. in the synoptical flora, vol. ii, p. , this species is stated to have been collected on mount rainier by tolmie. on the sheet in the gray herbarium dr. gray has indicated that this is an error, the specimens having really been collected in the rocky mountains by burke. =campanulaceae.= (bellflower family.) =campanula rotundifolia= linnaeus. this charming and familiar blue bell is abundant on the cliffs near the foot of cowlitz glacier. =valerianaceae.= (valerian family.) =valeriana sitchensis= bongard. an abundant plant at , to , feet altitude. the leaves are pinnately compound, the rather large leaflets repandly dentate. the flowers are whitish, usually pink tinged. like other species, this valerian has a decidedly unpleasant odor, that is difficult to compare with any other. to the writer the odor is always associated with mountain meadows, doubtless because it so frequently predominates in such places. =rubiaceae.= (madder family.) =galium triflorum= michaux. a very common species of bedstraw which ascends on the lower slopes of the mountain. =galium oreganum= britton. goat mountains, allen, no. . =scrophulariaceae.= (figwort family.) =chelone nemorosa= douglas. a handsome plant with opposite serrate leaves and corymbs of purple-red flowers somewhat like those of the foxglove. dry cliffs and slopes at , feet altitude. also reported by gorman as occurring at longmire springs. =pentstemon confertus= douglas. a species with entire leaves and dense clusters of small pale yellow flowers. in its typical form the species is one to two feet tall, but on mount rainier, where it occurs at from , to , feet elevation, it is reduced to two to four inches high, but otherwise not differing from the type. =pentstemon procerus= douglas. like the above, but blue flowered. it occurs at , feet and on rainier is scarcely two inches tall, while at lower altitudes it is frequently as many feet high. this dwarf alpine form has been described by professor greene as a new species under the name of _pentstemon pulchellus_. it is an interesting fact that tolmie long ago collected on mount rainier a dwarf species which hooker named _pentstemon tolmiei_. but alas, the specimens are in fruit, and it is past finding out now whether his plant was the yellow-flowered or the blue-flowered form. most likely, however, it was the latter, as that is far more frequent than the yellow-flowered form. =pentstemon diffusus= douglas. a handsome species with serrate leaves and blue-purple flowers. mount rainier, piper . goat mountains, allen . =pentstemon ovatus= douglas. much like the preceding plant, differing essentially in the anthers. collected by allen "mountains near the upper valley of the nisqually," and by the writer on the slopes of mount rainier. =pentstemon menziesii= hooker. a dwarf prostrate plant with thickish evergreen toothed leaves and dull purple flowers, abundant on the rocks at , feet elevation. a variety with the leaves entire instead of denticulate, _p. davidsonii_ greene, also occurs on the mountain. =pentstemon rupicola= (piper) howell. much like the preceding, but with glaucous leaves and rose-colored larger flowers. the writer found it originally on the perpendicular cliffs, at the limit of trees above "camp of the clouds." =collinsia tenella= (pursh) piper. collected by flett on an old moraine along the carbon glacier. =mimulus lewisii= pursh. abundant along rills, , to , feet altitude. easily known by its opposite dentate leaves, viscid pubescence and rose-purple corollas. the original specimens were collected in idaho by the lewis and clark expedition. =mimulus breweri= (greene) rydberg. (_eunanus breweri_ greene.) a minute species with pale purple flowers, abundant on dry cliffs near "camp of the clouds." =mimulus alpinus= (gray) piper. (_m. luteus alpinus_ gray.) (_m. scouleri caespitosus_ greene.) a dwarf plant with matted stolons, the bright yellow flowers painting the cliffs wherever there is dripping water. the mount rainier plants match closely the original types collected by dr. parry in wyoming, so that professor greene's name is clearly a synonym of the earlier one of gray. =veronica alpina= linnaeus. a small plant two or three inches high, with several pairs of small, ovate, pubescent leaves, and a terminal raceme of small blue flowers. common at , to , feet altitude. =veronica cusickii= gray. a very similar plant to the above, but with larger blue flowers and smooth leaves. abundant just above "camp of the clouds." =veronica allenii= greenman. much like the preceding species, but with smaller white flowers. a new species discovered by allen "near paradise river at , feet elevation." =castilleja miniata= douglas. this vivid scarlet "painted cup" or "indian pink" is easily known by its entire leaves. not infrequent at , to , feet; also occurring at lower altitudes down to sea-level. =castilleja angustifolia hispida= (bentham) fernald. very similar to the last, but the flower spikes shorter and the leaves cut-lobed. bear prairie, allen. =castilleja rupicola= piper. like the last, but smaller, the leaves usually purplish and deeply cut, the flowers intensely scarlet and with very long beaks. on the cliffs on both sides of sluiskin falls, whence the original specimens were obtained. =castilleja oreopola= greenman. the common species of the grassy slopes, the flowers reddish-purple or occasionally white. =pedicularis bracteosa= bentham. a tall "lousewort," with fern-like leaves and a long terminal spike of greenish-white flowers. frequent in wet places up to , feet altitude. =pedicularis contorta= douglas. a yellow-flowered species not rare at , feet elevation along the nisqually glacier. first found by tolmie on mount rainier. =pedicularis surrecta= bentham. the reddish flowers with long, coiled beaks easily distinguish this plant. common in wet meadows at , feet altitude. =pedicularis ornithorhyncha= bentham. much like the preceding but with beakless flowers. originally described from mount rainier specimens collected by tolmie in , and not again seen until the writer collected them in the same place in . the plant has since been found at two or three places north of mount rainier, but all in washington. =pedicularis racemosa= douglas. the commonest species, easily known by its half prostrate habit, lanceolate leaves, and short clusters of white or pinkish twisted flowers. ranges from , to , feet elevation. =pinguiculaceae.= (butterwort family.) =pinguicula vulgaris= linnaeus. the butterwort, with its greasy entire leaves in a rosette and solitary violet flowers is not rare on moist cliffs. =labiatae.= (mint family.) =madronella discolor= greene. a very sweet-smelling plant, the only mint as yet found on the mountain. occurs on the talus of the high cliffs on the north side of cowlitz glacier. =boraginaceae.= (borage family.) =mertensia laevigata= piper. a handsome branched herb, two feet high or more. the large entire leaves and the cluster of small blue tubular flowers make it readily recognizable. frequent at , to , feet altitude. =cryptantha muriculata= (a. de candolle) greene. goat mountains, flett; a small common lowland plant with white flowers. =hydrophyllaceae.= (waterleaf family.) =hydrophyllum albifrons= heller. (_hydrophyllum congestum_ wiegand.) on the meadows near van trump glacier. =romanzoffia sitchensis= bongard. a handsome little plant with orbicular coarsely dentate leaves and a loose cluster of small white flowers. in habit much like some saxifrages. rare on wet cliffs near sluiskin falls. =phacelia nemoralis= greene. this plant occurs on rock talus along the north side of cowlitz glacier. =phacelia sericea= gray. a handsome species with silvery leaves and dense clusters of purple flowers. collected somewhere on the mountain by rev. e. c. smith in . =polemoniaceae.= (phlox family.) =phlox diffusa= bentham. a prostrate plant with acerose leaves, when in bloom forming dense masses of pale blue. common at , to , feet altitude, in rocky soil. =gilia gracilis= (douglas) hooker. growing on an old moraine along carbon glacier, flett. =gilia nuttallii= gray. a white-flowered species found by rev. e. c. smith in somewhere on the southwest slopes of the mountain. =collomia debilis= (watson) greene. not rare in talus at the base of basalt cliffs on the east side of the mountain at , feet altitude. =collomia heterophylla= hooker. found by mr. gorman on the gravelly banks of the nisqually at longmire springs; also by flett; a common lowland plant. =polemonium humile= roemer & schultes. a handsome plant with pinnate leaves and corymbs of pale blue flowers. common on the rocks at , to , feet altitude. =polemonium elegans= greene. (_p. bicolor_ greenman.) similar to the preceding, but smaller and very glandular, the blue flowers having a large yellow center. rather rare in pumice at , feet elevation. =polemonium viscosum pilosum= greenman. very much like the preceding plant. discovered by allen on the goat mountains, no. . =gentianaceae.= (gentian family.) =gentiana calycosa= grisebach. an elegant plant with deep blue bell-shaped flowers. abundant along the rills at , feet. the species was described from mount rainier specimens collected by tolmie in . grisebach also described a variety _stricta_, based on very trivial characters. =primulaceae.= (primrose family.) =dodecatheon jeffreyi= van houtte. (_d. crenatum_ greene.) (_d. viviparum_ greene.) plentiful in wet places at , to , feet elevation. professor greene's types came from spray park. =douglasia laevigata= gray. a handsome little plant forming broad mats and bearing blood-red flowers in corymbs. goat mountains, allen. =trientalis latifolia= hooker. gorman reports this plant as occurring in coniferous woods between longmire springs and paradise park. =pyrolaceae.= (indian pipe family.) =chimaphila umbellata= (linnaeus) nuttall. reported by gorman "on the trail above longmire springs, in coniferous woods." =chimaphila menziesii= (r. brown) sprengel. in deep coniferous woods, , to , feet elevation. =pyrola secunda= linnaeus. growing with the preceding. =pyrola bracteata= hooker. reported by gorman "in coniferous woods along the nisqually river at , feet." =moneses uniflora= (linnaeus) gray. in woods near the base of the mountain. =monotropa hypopitys= linnaeus. common in the dense shade of conifers along the trail above longmire's. =pterospora andromedea= nuttall. this peculiar plant occurs along the nisqually trail at about , feet altitude. =allotropa virgata= torrey & gray. this queer plant is abundant in coniferous woods on the north side of the mountain, but it is doubtful whether it comes within our limits. =ericaceae.= (heath family.) =menziesia glabella= gray. a shrub four to eight feet high, much resembling a huckleberry, but the fruit is dry. =kalmia polifolia microphylla= (hooker) piper. in wet places at , feet altitude near nisqually glacier. =phyllodoce empetriformis= (smith) d. don. the common red-flowered heather, abundant on dryish slopes at , to , feet elevation. =phyllodoce glanduliflora= (hooker) coville. much like the preceding, but the flowers yellowish-white and glandular. frequent at , to , feet elevation. =cassiope mertensiana= (bongard) donn. a low shrub growing with _phyllodoce empetriformis_, and having small pendent, bell-shaped white flowers. =harrimanella stelleriana= (pallas) coville. on the moist cliffs overlooking the nisqually glacier, at , feet elevation. this is the southernmost known station for the plant. =gaultheria shallon= pursh. the salal-berry is reported by gorman to occur in coniferous woods between longmire springs and paradise park. =gaultheria ovatifolia= gray. this species resembles a diminutive plant of the preceding, but the berries are red and spicy, and borne singly in the axils of the leaves. abundant in the coniferous woods at , to , feet elevation. =gaultheria humifusa= (graham) rydberg. much like a small plant of the preceding species, and only an inch or two high. not rare on the slopes near sluiskin falls. =rhododendron albiflorum= hooker. (_cladothamnus campanulatus_ greene). the white-flowered azalea so common in the shelter of trees at , to , feet elevation. =arctostaphylos uva-ursi= linnaeus. the kinnikinnik, essentially a lowland plant, covers the rocks at , feet altitude near nisqually glacier. =arctostaphylos nevadensis= gray. on the gravel bars of the nisqually at longmire springs. =vaccinium macrophyllum= (hooker) piper. the most valuable of all the native huckleberries. easily recognized by the nearly black, not glaucous berries, and finely serrate leaves. plentiful at , to , feet altitude. =vaccinium ovalifolium= smith. much like the preceding, but taller, the leaves entire, and the glaucous black berries not nearly so sweet. =vaccinium myrtillus microphyllum= hooker. (_v. scoparium_ leiberg.) a low, broom-like species, with small leaves and red or wine-colored berries. on dry ridges, , to , feet altitude. =vaccinium deliciosum= piper. this is the common bilberry of the alpine meadows of the cascade and olympic mountains in washington, where it is abundant at , to , feet altitude. in habit and fruit it resembles _v. caespitosum_, but in floral characters _v. ovalifolium_, to which dr. gray rather hesitatingly referred it. from this last it may readily be distinguished by its serrulate leaves and low habit, its relatively longer filaments, which in _v. ovalifolium_ are only one half as long as the anthers, and its small-seeded fruit of very different flavor. very young leaves have the serrulations tipped with small glandular appendages. =umbelliferae.= (parsley family.) =ligusticum purpureum= coulter & rose. a tall "wild parsnip," with fern-like leaves and small whitish or purple-tinged flowers. everywhere on the slopes, , to , feet elevation. =lomatium angustatum= coulter & rose. in rock talus near sluiskin falls. =lomatium triternatum= coulter & rose. a form of this variable species was found on the goat mountains by allen, no. . =angelica lyallii= watson. paradise park, , feet elevation. also common near the foot of cowlitz glacier. =sanicula septentrionalis= greene. goat mountains, allen, no. . =osmorhiza ambigua= (gray) coulter & rose. goat mountains, allen, no. . =heracleum lanatum= michaux. common at , feet elevation. =hesperogenia stricklandi= coulter & rose. an interesting plant, the type of a new genus, found in paradise park by allen and by strickland. also collected on the mountain by flett. occurs at , feet elevation. =haloragidaceae.= (water milfoil family.) =hippuris vulgaris= linnaeus. found by allen at longmire springs. =hippuris montana= ledebour. an interesting little species much resembling some mosses. it frequently mats the ground in wet places at , feet elevation. =onagraceae.= (evening primrose family.) =epilobium spicatum= lamarck. the common "fireweed," reported by gorman on the "grassy slopes, , to , feet altitude." =epilobium latifolium= linnaeus. a species with flowers like the preceding, but only four to six inches tall. found by rev. e. c. smith near the cowlitz glacier. =epilobium luteum= pursh. a yellow-flowered species common along streams, , to , feet elevation. =epilobium alpinum= linnaeus. (_e. hornemanni_ reichenbach.) common at , to , feet altitude. =epilobium anagallidifolium= lamarck. a minute species found on the tatoosh mountains by allen. =epilobium clavatum= trelease. gravelly slopes at , feet. plentiful along the cowlitz glacier. =epilobium fastigiatum= (nuttall) piper. a glaucous-leaved small species, on the gravel bars of the nisqually, and up to , feet elevation. =gayophytum ramosissimum= torrey & gray. on gravelly slopes near the foot of cowlitz glacier. =violaceae.= (violet family.) =viola palustris= linnaeus. the common swamp violet was found at narada falls by flett. =viola adunca= smith. rare in rock crevices near sluiskin falls. flowers deep violet. =viola montanensis= rydberg. like the preceding, but the leaves puberulent. near van trump glacier, at , feet altitude. =viola glabella= nuttall. a yellow-flowered species common along streams and in rich woods up to , feet altitude. =hypericaceae.= (st. johnswort family.) =hypericum bryophytum= elmer. a diminutive plant along rills at , feet elevation. =aceraceae.= (maple family.) =acer douglasii= hooker. the smooth maple is common on the headwaters of the nisqually. =celastraceae.= (staff tree family.) =pachystima myrsinites= (pursh) rafinesque. an evergreen shrub two or three feet high, having considerable resemblance to a huckleberry. common in coniferous woods at , to , feet elevation. =empetraceae.= (crowberry family.) =empetrum nigrum= linnaeus. a prostrate cespitose shrub with yew-like leaves and black berries. common on the rocks at , feet altitude. =oxalidaceae.= (oxalis family.) =oxalis oregana= nuttall. common in rich, moist woods up to , feet altitude. =oxalis trilliifolia= hooker. with the preceding, which it resembles. it may be distinguished by its scapes bearing several flowers, instead of only one, and by its narrow pods. =leguminosae.= (pea family.) =lupinus subalpinus= piper & robinson. the common lupine of the grassy slopes, , to , feet altitude. =lupinus volcanicus= greene. a small species, with hairy pubescence, growing above the limit of the preceding and below that of the following. =lupinus lyallii= watson. a lovely little plant with silvery foliage. abundant in the pumice fields at , to , feet altitude. =lathyrus pauciflorus= fernald. a wild pea with purple flowers collected by allen in the goat mountains. =lathyrus nevadensis= watson. very like the preceding but with white flowers. collected by allen, no. , on mountains near the upper valley of the nisqually. =oxytropis cusickii= greenman. goat mountains, allen, no. . =rosaceae.= (rose family.) =spiraea densiflora= nuttall. a low shrub with dense corymbs of rose-colored flowers. common in bogs at , feet, and on rock cliffs up to , feet elevation. =eriogynia pectinata= (pursh) hooker. a little shrub only two or three inches tall, forming dense mats. the plant should easily be recognized by its sharply cleft leaves and dense erect racemes of white flowers. abundant at , to , feet elevation. gorman reports it from near the "sphinx," , feet. =rubus nivalis= douglas. a trailing vine, with glossy, green, simple leaves. common in the coniferous forests at , feet altitude, where it seldom blooms. on exposed rocks and banks one rarely finds its dull red flowers or bright red, raspberry-like, sour fruit. =rubus pedatus= smith. a trailing herbaceous plant, with palmately compound leaves and strawberry-like blossoms. the smooth red fruit is sour, and consists of only a few large drupelets. common in the woods up to , feet altitude. =rubus lasiococcus= gray. much like the preceding, but with simple leaves and pubescent fruit. grows with the preceding, and up to , feet or more. =potentilla flabellifolia= hooker. the common cinquefoil of the meadows, with bright yellow buttercup-like flowers. plentiful at , feet elevation. =potentilla dissecta= pursh. this has been collected by allen on the goat mountains, no. . =potentilla glaucophylla= lehmann. near the foot of gibraltar, at , feet altitude. =potentilla villosa= pallas. a species with silvery strawberry-like leaves and bright yellow flowers. on the cliffs near the foot of little tahoma, at , feet elevation. =potentilla fruticosa tenuifolia= (willdenow) lehmann. this shrubby cinquefoil occurs along white river glacier. =sibbaldia procumbens= linnaeus. abundant on the ridge near sluiskin falls. =dryas octopetala= linnaeus. found in talus between urania and white glaciers by professor flett. this is the southernmost known station in the cascade mountains. =pyrus occidentalis= watson. this mountain ash occurs at , to , feet altitude, usually forming dense clumps. it is seldom over four feet high. from related species its dull purple glaucous fruit and dull green leaves, serrate only near the apex, easily distinguish it. =pyrus sitchensis= (roemer) piper. (_sorbus sitchensis_ roemer.) this species grows from four to fifteen feet high, and is easily known by its intense scarlet fruit and shining leaflets, which are sharply serrate to the base. the plant of the cascade mountains matches exactly with the type from sitka, and we can detect no differences in the shrub common in the blue mountains and in western idaho. this shrub has heretofore been known as _pyrus sambucifolia_ chamisso & schlechtendahl, but authentic kamtschatka specimens of this last are clearly different from our plant. =rosa nutkana= presl. this common wild rose has been collected by allen on the goat mountains, at , feet elevation. =saxifragaceae.= (saxifrage family.) =ribes howellii= greene. (_ribes acerifolium_ howell.) a small currant, two to four feet high, with pendent racemes of flowers and glaucous black fruit. common in the shelter of trees up to their limit. =ribes bracteosum= douglas. a currant with very large leaves and long, erect racemes of greenish flowers; fruit black. it is common along streams at low altitudes, and is locally known as "stink currant." gorman reports it from cowlitz canyon, near the timber line. =ribes lacustre= (persoon) poiret. this very prickly gooseberry is reported by gorman from the same locality as the preceding. =leptarrhena amplexifolia= (sternberg) seringe. a handsome plant, with a radical tuft of oblong crenate evergreen leaves, and an erect scape of small greenish flowers in a corymb. the pods when mature are usually deeply tinged with purple. common on the borders of rills at , feet, and on the wet cliffs near sluiskin falls. also reported by professor greene from spray park. =tiarella unifoliata= hooker. common in rich woods up to , feet elevation. =mitella breweri= watson. in the shelter of trees, common at , feet altitude. =mitella pentandra= hooker. much like the preceding and found in similar places. =mitella trifida= graham. found on mount rainier and on goat mountains by allen. =parnassia fimbriata= könig. a plant with radical reniform leaves and one-flowered scapes. the petals are white and fringed. not rare in moist places near sluiskin falls; also at crater lake. =heuchera glabra= willdenow. on the cliffs near camp of the clouds. =heuchera micrantha= douglas. mount rainier, _tolmie_, according to hooker. =elmera racemosa= (watson) rydberg. (_heuchera racemosa_ watson.) rock crevices at the base of little tahoma; rare. =suksdorfia ranunculifolia= (hooker) engler. rock cliffs near camp of the clouds. =saxifraga bongardi= presl. common along rills, , to , feet elevation. =saxifraga bronchialis austromontana= (wiegand) piper. abundant on rock cliffs near longmire springs, and frequent up to , feet altitude. =saxifraga marshallii= greene. rare on the cliffs near sluiskin falls. also collected on the goat mountains by mr. allen. =saxifraga odontoloma= piper. a species with reniform, coarsely dentate leaves. common along the rivulets, , to , feet altitude. =saxifraga nelsoniana= d. don. much like the preceding, but the petals oval instead of orbicular and clawed. near camp of the clouds; rare. =saxifraga mertensiana= bongard. much like _s. odontoloma_, but the leaves doubly dentate, and usually bearing bulblets among the flowers. north side of cowlitz glacier; rare. =saxifraga tolmaei= torrey & gray. abundant at , to , feet elevation, blooming as soon as the snow melts. easily known by its small, thick, entire leaves, and small white flowers, solitary on scapes an inch or two high. originally found by tolmie, from whose specimens the species was described. =saxifraga debilis= engelmann. found on mount rainier by mr. allen. this is the first record of the plant west of colorado. =saxifraga caespitosa= linnaeus. collected by flett and by allen. leaves to -lobed. =crassulaceae.= (stonecrop family.) =sedum divergens= watson. this species is easily known by its small globular leaves. common on the cliffs near sluiskin falls. =cruciferae.= (mustard family.) =draba aureola= watson. a viscid yellow-flowered species, rather rare at and near camp muir. =draba lonchocarpa= rydberg. in pumice sand at , feet altitude. =arabis lyallii= watson. common along paradise river, at , feet altitude, but also occurring in the pumice at , feet. =arabis drummondii= gray. piper no. , referable to this species, is from mount rainier. collected near the cowlitz glacier. =cardamine kamtschatica= (regel) schulz. (_c. umbellata_ greene.) a small "bitter-cress," not rare along rills at , feet elevation. =erysimum asperum= (nuttall) de candolle. a yellow-flowered plant much like a wallflower, rare at , feet altitude. it occurs also in loose rock near interglacier. =smelowskia ovalis= jones. a small, white-flowered, canescent plant, interesting because it ascends mount rainier higher than any other flowering plant. common from , to , feet altitude. one specimen was collected quite at the base of "the sphinx." =fumariaceae.= (bleeding-heart family.) =corydalis scouleri= hooker. common along streams at low elevations. =berberidaceae.= (barberry family.) =achlys triphylla= (smith) de candolle. reported by mr. gorman "on the trail from longmire springs to the park." the sweet-smelling leaves of this plant have suggested the name of "vanilla leaf." =ranunculaceae.= (buttercup family.) =thalictrum occidentale= gray. this meadow-rue is not rare near the foot of van trump glacier. =anemone drummondii= watson. collected by flett, no. , on the north side of the mountain at , feet altitude. =anemone hudsoniana= (de candolle) richardson. collected on the goat mountains by mr. allen, no. . =pulsatilla occidentalis= (watson) freyn. common on the dry slopes , to , feet elevation. flowers large, white or bluish, developing a large head of tailed carpels, which has much the appearance of a hussar's cap. =trautvetteria grandis= nuttall. a tall plant with large maple-like leaves and loose corymbs of delicate white flowers. abundant in shady woods up to , feet elevation. the pallid blossoms, in sharp contrast to the shade they dwell in, has prompted the name of "ghost flower." =ranunculus suksdorfii= gray. a bright-flowered buttercup, not rare in moist places at , feet elevation. =ranunculus verecundus= robinson. on rocky ridges at , feet altitude, flett. =caltha leptosepala= de candolle. (_c. macounii_ greene.) wet places, , to , feet; plentiful. =aquilegia formosa= fisher. the common scarlet and yellow columbine of the lowland, found on the grassy slopes at , feet elevation. =delphinium bicolor= nuttall. a handsome blue and white-flowered larkspur, found in the goat mountains by mr. allen, no. . =delphinium glaucum= watson. this larkspur is tall, three to four feet high, with rather many large leaves, and long racemes of pale blue small flowers. collected by mr. allen in the upper nisqually valley, and by the writer near crater lake. =caryophyllaceae.= (pink family.) =silene lyallii= watson. (_s. macounii_ watson.) (_s. douglasii viscida_ robinson.) distinguished from its near allies by its four-lobed petals. not rare at , feet altitude. =silene suksdorfii= robinson. a low species, with scapes mostly one-flowered. rather rare in the loose basalt talus near the base of little tahoma. =silene acaulis= linnaeus. the "moss campion" of europe, and common in the rocky mountains. collected by mr. flett near the mowich glacier. =stellaria borealis= bigelow. a prostrate chickweed, common along the paradise river, at , feet elevation. =stellaria washingtoniana= robinson. described from specimens collected by allen on the slopes of the mountain at the head of nisqually river in alder woods. =sagina occidentalis= watson. a small species of pearlwort, doubtfully referred here, occurs rarely along rivulets in paradise park. =cerastium arvense= linnaeus. goat mountains, allen, no. . =arenaria capillaris= poiret. common on the rocks at , to , feet elevation. the form with curved leaves, variety _nardifolia_ regel, is more frequent than the type. =arenaria verna= linnaeus. rather rare in the pumice on the east side of the mountain. =arenaria macrophylla= hooker. in dry woods at low altitudes. =portulacaceae.= (purslane family.) =spraguea multiceps= howell. a handsome plant, with entire spatulate leaves and dense heads of pink or purple flowers. common in the pumice fields. =claytonia sibirica= linnaeus. collected by flett somewhere near the base of the mountain. the commonest lowland "spring beauty." =claytonia asarifolia= bongard. a plant with fleshy entire leaves and small racemes of white flowers. occasional along the rivulets at , to , feet elevation. =claytonia parvifolia= mocino. on the rocks at , to , feet altitude. =claytonia lanceolata= pursh. common in the grassy meadows. the tuberous root is edible. =lewisia columbiana= (howell) robinson. goat mountains, allen. leaves fleshy, flowers rose-purple, showy. =polygonaceae.= (buckwheat family.) =oxyria digyna= (linnaeus) hill. a small plant with reniform entire leaves, and flowers and fruit like those of the common docks. not rare in rock crevices at , to , feet elevation. =polygonum minimum= watson. common at , to , feet altitude. =polygonum douglasii= greene. on a gravelly slope near the foot of cowlitz glacier. =polygonum newberryi= small. common in the pumice fields, where it is a characteristic plant. =polygonum bistortoides= pursh. very plentiful on the grassy slopes, where it is conspicuous by its dense white-flowered spikes an inch long, borne singly on slender stems a foot or two high. =eriogonum compositum= douglas. a form of this variable species occurs on the talus at the foot of the cliffs on the north side of cowlitz glacier. =eriogonum pyrolaefolium coryphaeum= torrey & gray. plentiful in the pumice fields. =betulaceae.= (birch family.) =alnus sinuata= (regel) rydberg. sitka alder. a small alder, seldom over ten or twelve feet high. common along the streams at low altitude. =salicaceae.= (willow family.) =salix scouleriana= barratt. the common upland willow; not rare up to , feet elevation. =salix sitchensis= sanson. the "silky willow" is plentiful along the nisqually at longmire springs. =salix barclayi= anderson. =salix commutata= bebb. these two willows make thickets along the rills at about , feet altitude. the leaves in the former are smooth above and glaucous beneath; in the latter pubescent on both sides. =salix nivalis= hooker. a very dwarf willow, with obtuse leaves, growing only a few inches high. found on the north side of the mountain by flett. =salix saximontana= rydberg. very similar to _salix nivalis_, but larger in every way. also found by flett on the north side of the mountain. =salix cascadensis= cockerell. (_s. tenera_ andersson.) a very dwarf rare willow with leaves acute at each end. north slope of the mountain, collected by flett. =populus trichocarpa= torrey & gray. the cottonwood occurs along the nisqually to some distance above longmire springs. =orchidaceae.= (orchis family.) =corallorhiza maculata= rafinesque. common in the coniferous woods at low altitudes. =corallorhiza mertensiana= bongard. frequent in the dense coniferous woods up to , feet. =spiranthes romanzoffiana= chamisso. a small form of this species was found in a bog on the summit of the ridge overlooking the foot of the nisqually glacier. =peramium decipiens= (hooker) piper. on the trail above longmire springs, according to mr. gorman. =limnorchis stricta= (lindley) rydberg. a tall plant with long spikes of greenish flowers. not rare in wet places at , feet elevation. =listera caurina= piper. common in mossy woods up to , feet. =listera convallarioides= (swartz) torrey. growing in moist woods near the foot of the mountain. =liliaceae.= (lily family.) =allium validum= watson. this wild onion has rootstock-like bulbs. it has been found on the north side of the mountain, and only by mr. flett. =vagnera sessilifolia= (baker) greene. common in moist woods up to , feet altitude. =streptopus curvipes= vail. common in moist woods at , feet. distinguished from the eastern _s. roseus_ by its small size, simple stems, and creeping rootstocks. =lilium columbianum= hanson. the wild tiger lily occurs on dry slopes near longmire springs and in paradise park, at , feet elevation. =fritillaria lanceolata= pursh. goat mountains, allen, no. . =erythronium montanum= watson. the white-flowered adder's tongue, so abundant in paradise park, up to , feet altitude. =erythronium parviflorum= (watson) goodding. much like the preceding, but the flowers yellow. frequent along rills at , feet. =clintonia uniflora= (schultes) kunth. abundant in the coniferous forests at , to , feet altitude. easily recognized by its tuft of two to four radical leaves, which are oblong in form, and its delicate scapes, three or four inches high, bearing a single white flower. the berry is blue. =trillium ovatum= pursh. the wake-robin is plentiful at , feet altitude. =tofieldia intermedia= rydberg. this species has been confused with both _t. glutinosa_ and _t. occidentalis_. from the former it differs principally in its seed characters, otherwise being so similar that there are no distinguishing characters in the flowering specimens. all the cascade mountain specimens apparently belong to _t. intermedia_, because no plant with the seed character of _t. glutinosa_ has as yet been found in that range of mountains. =veratrum viride= aiton. the green hellebore forms considerable clumps, three or four feet high. it is frequent on moist slopes in paradise park. =stenanthium occidentale= gray. goat mountains, allen, . also collected on mount rainier by rev. e. c. smith, in . =xerophyllum tenax= (pursh) nuttall. the so-called pine-lily or bear-grass is not rare in gravelly soil in rather open woods. straggling specimens are found up to , feet altitude. =juncaceae.= (rush family.) =juncoides glabratum= (hooker) sheldon. dry, grassy slopes at , feet. =juncoides majus= (hooker) piper. (_luzula arcuata major_ hooker.) (_juncoides piperi_ coville.) the plants referred here occur at , feet altitude, in springy places. allen, no. , and piper, , are identical with tolmie's mount rainier specimens. =juncoides parviflorum= (ehrhart) coville. common on dry slopes up to , feet elevation. =juncoides spicata= (linnaeus) kuntze. rather rare in damp places in the pumice fields, at , feet altitude. =juncus subtriflorus= (e. meyer) coville. common at , to , feet elevation. =juncus parryi= engelmann. much like the preceding, and growing along with it. =juncus mertensianus= bongard. frequent along rills even up to , feet altitude. =cyperaceae.= (sedge family.) =eriophorum polystachion= linnaeus. this "cotton-grass" occurs in the low ground around the lakes near the base of pinnacle peak. =carex paddoensis= suksdorf. springy places at , feet altitude; allen, ; piper, . =carex pyrenaica= wahlenberg. with the preceding; allen, ; piper, . =carex phaeocephala= piper. dryish places at , feet elevation; piper, . =carex preslii= bailey. common at , feet, along streams. =carex pachystachya= chamisso. this species occurs along rills in paradise park. =carex nigricans= meyer. common at , to , feet elevation. =carex rossii= boott. on the grassy ridge above sluiskin falls. =carex geyeri= boott. goat mountains, allen, . =carex mertensii= prescott. rare along stream banks at about , feet altitude. some of our specimens came from near the foot of cowlitz glacier. =carex spectabilis= dewey. (_c. invisa_ bailey.) in wet meadows at , feet elevation. =carex scopulorum= holm. with the preceding. =carex ablata= bailey. frequent in the meadows of paradise park. =carex accedens= holm. paradise park; piper, . =carex arcta= boott. mount rainier, , feet altitude; allen . =carex atrata= linnaeus. collected by allen, august , . =carex laeviculmis= meinschausen. in swamps near the foot of the mountain. =carex hepburnii= boott. a handsome little plant common at , feet altitude. =carex kelloggii= w. boott. along paradise river; piper, . =carex rigida= goodenough. allen, , and piper, , are referred here. the last-named specimens are from near the foot of pinnacle peak. =gramineae.= (grass family.) =phleum alpinum= linnaeus. the "mountain timothy" is of frequent occurrence at , to , feet altitude. =agrostis geminata= trinius. collected by allen, in . =agrostis aequivalvis= trinius. the plant referred here is common on the banks of the paradise river up to , feet. =agrostis rossae= vasey. slopes at , feet elevation; common. =agrostis humilis= vasey. abundant in springy places at , feet elevation. =calamagrostis vaseyi= beal. goat mountains, allen, and common on the rocky ridges north of cowlitz glacier. =calamagrostis scabra= presl. not rare at , feet elevation; near sluiskin falls, piper; tatoosh mountains, allen. =deschampsia atropurpurea= (wahlenberg) scheele. common at , to , feet elevation. =danthonia intermedia= vasey. common at about , feet altitude. =trisetum cernuum= trinius. moist places up to , feet altitude. =trisetum spicatum= (linnaeus) richter. rare on the ridge near camp of the clouds. =cinna latifolia= (treviranus) grisebach. common in wet ground about longmire springs. =poa arctica= r. brown. a grass doubtfully referred to this species is common at , feet elevation. =poa paddensis= williams. one of the most frequent grasses at , to , feet. =poa saxatilis= scribner & williams. on rock cliffs at , feet. the type of this species is piper no. , from above camp of the clouds. =poa suksdorfii= vasey. rather rare in the pumice at , feet elevation. =poa lettermani= vasey. on the slopes near camp muir, growing with the preceding. =festuca viridula= vasey. the finest grass on the slopes. abundant at , feet elevation. =festuca ovina supina= (schur) hackel. in the pumice fields at , feet altitude. =festuca subulata= trinius. longmire springs, in moist places. =bromus marginatus= nees. a species doubtfully referred here was collected on the mountains in by rev. e. c. smith. no specimens of it are now in our possession. =sitanion rigidum= j. g. smith. pumice fields at , feet. =sitanion glabrum= j. g. smith. common on the rocky ridges north of cowlitz glacier. =sitanion rubescens= piper. dry slopes on the south side of the mountain. =sparganiaceae.= (bur-reed family.) =sparganium minimum= fries. collected in by rev. e. c. smith, in one of the small lakes near the base of pinnacle peak. =taxaceae.= (yew family.) =taxus brevifolia= nuttall. western yew. the yew is not uncommon along the trail from longmire springs to paradise park. it does not ascend much above , feet elevation. =pinaceae.= (pine family.) =juniperus sibirica= burgsdorff. mountain juniper. the alpine juniper occurs on the banks of the nisqually, near longmire springs, and is common on the rocks up to , feet elevation. =chamaecyparis nootkatensis= (lambert) spach. alaska cedar. the alaska cedar ranges on the mountain slopes from , feet up to , feet altitude. it is far more abundant on the north side of the peak than on the south. few, if any, specimens exceed four feet in diameter, and where the trees are most abundant the trunks are only one or two feet through. =abies grandis= lindley. white fir. some trees, without cones, which were observed on the trail above longmire springs, are doubtfully referred here. they are more likely to belong to the following species. =abies amabilis= (douglas) forbes. lovely fir. the lovely fir is abundant at from , to , feet elevation. it is usually but a small tree, with beautifully symmetrical form. except when fruiting, it is difficult to distinguish from the lowland white fir. =abies nobilis= lindley. noble fir. the finest of all the firs, frequently four to six feet in diameter, without a single branch for a hundred feet or more. easily known by the deep red color of the bark when chopped into, and by the large cones, covered with reflexed bracts. abundant at , to , feet. =abies lasiocarpa= (hooker) nuttall. subalpine fir. this is the primly conical little fir so common in paradise park. it rarely occurs below , feet elevation. its dark purple pubescent cones, only two or three inches long, readily distinguish it from the preceding species. =pseudotsuga mucronata= (rafinesque) sudworth. douglas spruce. the douglas spruce is common up to , feet elevation. there is a marked tendency of the cones to be relatively shorter and thicker at this altitude, but otherwise the tree shows little variation from its lowland typical form. =tsuga heterophylla= rafinesque. western hemlock. the western hemlock is abundant at , feet altitude, but usually much smaller than when growing near the sea level. =tsuga mertensiana= (bongard) carriere. black hemlock. the black hemlock is frequent from , to , feet elevation. on the higher slopes it commonly forms clumps with the subalpine fir. when this is the case, the irregular form and dark foliage of the hemlock, usually festooned with lichens, form a pleasing contrast to the conical form and lighter foliage of the fir. =pinus albicaulis= engelmann. white-bark pine. this white-barked nut pine is abundant on the high ridge north of the cowlitz glacier. it also occurs above camp of the clouds. it rarely fruits, and when it does the cones, with their sweet edible seeds, are quickly torn to pieces by clark's crow. the trunk and branches are frequently adorned with the bright yellow lichen, _evernia vulpina_. =pinus monticola= douglas. western white pine. not uncommon at low elevations. the narrow cones, six to twelve inches long, are characteristic. =pinus contorta= douglas. lodgepole pine. reported by mr. gorman "on the moraines of the nisqually." =picea engelmanni= parry. engelmann spruce. rather a rare tree about mount rainier, at , feet elevation. in the sitka or tideland spruce the leaves are decidedly flattened; in the engelmann spruce they are nearly square in cross section. =isoetaceae.= (quillwort family.) =isoetes echinospora braunii= engelmann. common in the small lakes near the foot of pinnacle peak. =lycopodiaceae.= (club-moss family.) =lycopodium annotinum= linnaeus. a large patch of this handsome species occurs at the point where the trail first crosses paradise river above longmire springs. =lycopodium sitchense= ruprecht. common on the meadows at , feet elevation. =equisetaceae.= (horsetail family.) =equisetum limosum= linnaeus. this species occurs in the bog on top of the ridge above the foot of nisqually glacier. the old trail to the park led through this bog. =equisetum arvense= linnaeus. sterile fronds of this plant were observed at longmire springs. =equisetum robustum= a. braun. common in damp places up to , feet elevation. readily eaten by cayuses. =polypodiaceae.= (fern family.) =polypodium hesperium= maxon. not rare in rock crevices on the cliffs overlooking the lakes at the foot of pinnacle peak. =phegopteris dryopteris= (linnaeus) fee. the pretty "oak-fern" is abundant along the trail above longmire's, in deep woods. =phegopteris alpestris= (hoppe) mettenius. forming crown-like tufts in the talus at the foot of cliffs in paradise park. =dryopteris spinulosa dilatata= (hoffman) underwood. the common wood-fern is frequent in the forests at , feet altitude. =polystichum lonchitis= (linnaeus) roth. specimens of this species are in my possession from mount rainier, but the exact place of collection has passed my recollection. presumably it was found in or near paradise park. =filix fragilis= (linnaeus) underwood. diminutive specimens of this fern were collected on the cliffs at , feet altitude. rev. e. c. smith found much finer examples at a lower elevation. =cryptogramma acrostichoides= r. brown. common in the coarse gravel on the bars of the nisqually, occurring even at the foot of the glacier. =ophioglossaceae.= (adder's tongue family.) =botrychium lunaria= (linnaeus) swartz. specimens were collected by rev. e. c. smith on the north side of the mountain in . =botrychium lanceolatum= (s. g. gmelin) angstroem. longmire springs, allen, not otherwise known on the pacific coast. footnotes: [ ] am. jour. sci., d series, vol. xxvi, , pp. - . [ ] neues jahrbuch für min., etc., vol. i, , pp. - . [ ] observed by iddings: twelfth ann. rept. u. s. geol. survey, p. . [ ] hague and iddings: twelfth ann. rept. u. s. geol. survey, p. . [ ] oebbeke, _op. cit._, p. . [ ] jour. geol., vol. iv, , p. . [ ] emmons, bull. am. geog. soc., , no. , p. . xvii. creation of mount rainier national park memorial by scientific societies a surprisingly wide interest was awakened by the proposal to create a national park to include the great mass of mount rainier and its immediate surroundings. five societies appointed committees to coöperate in securing the needed legislation from congress. those committees prepared a memorial. the senate miscellaneous document, number , fifty-third congress, second session, shows that the memorial was introduced on july , , by senator watson c. squire from the state of washington. the memorial was deemed of sufficient importance to be republished in the eighteenth annual report of the united states geological survey for - . it is here reproduced from that publication. with all the interest thus manifested, it required nearly five years from the introduction of the memorial to witness the achievement of its purpose. the act of congress creating the mount rainier national park bears the date of march , . _to the senate and house of representatives of the united states of america in congress assembled:_ at a meeting of the geological society of america, in madison, wis., august , , a committee was appointed for the purpose of memorializing the congress in relation to the establishment of a national park in the state of washington to include mount rainier, often called mount tacoma. the committee consists of dr. david t. day, mr. s. f. emmons, and mr. bailey willis. at a meeting of the american association for the advancement of science, in madison, wis., august , , a committee was appointed by that body for the same purpose as above mentioned, consisting of maj. j. w. powell, prof. joseph le conte, prof. i. c. russell, mr. b. e. fernow, and dr. c. h. merriam. at a meeting of the national geographic society, held in washington, d. c., on october , , there was appointed a committee for the purpose above mentioned, consisting of hon. gardiner g. hubbard, hon. watson c. squire, mr. john w. thompson, miss mary f. waite, and miss eliza r. scidmore. at a meeting of the sierra club, held in san francisco december , , a committee for the same purpose was appointed, composed of mr. john muir, president d. s. jordan, mr. r. m. johnson, mr. george b. bayley, mr. p. b. van trump. at a meeting of the appalachian mountain club, held in boston april , , a similar committee was appointed, consisting of mr. john ritchie, jr., rev. e. c. smith, dr. charles e. fay. the committees thus appointed were instructed by the several bodies to which they belong to coöperate in the preparation of a memorial to congress, setting forth the substantial reasons for the establishment of such park. pursuant to their instructions, the committees present the following memorial to the congress, and pray that such action may be taken by the honorable senators and representatives as will secure to the people of the united states the benefits of a national park which shall include the area mentioned above. in support of their prayer they beg to submit the following statement: by proclamation of the president, in compliance with the statutes provided therefor, a pacific forest reserve has been established in the state of washington, the western portion of which is nearly coincident with the tract of land to be included in the national park for which your memorialists pray. the western part of this reserve includes many features of unique interest and wonderful grandeur, which fit it peculiarly to be a national park, forever set aside for the pleasure and instruction of the people. the region is one of such exceptional rainfall and snowfall that the preservation of its forests is of unusual importance as a protection against floods in the lower valleys; but the scenic features, which mark it out for a national park, attract tourists, who set fire to the timber. this destruction goes on notwithstanding it is a forest reserve, and will continue until protection is afforded by adequate supervision of the area, whether as a reserve or park. the reserve is traversed through the middle from north to south by the crest of the cascade range, which has an elevation varying from , to , feet. this is the divide between tributaries of puget sound, flowing west, and those of yakima river, flowing east. mount rainier, the isolated volcanic peak, , feet high, stands miles west of the divide, from which it is separated by a deep valley. the eastern half of the reserve differs from the western in climate, in flora, and in fauna, in geographic and geologic features, and in aspects of scenery. the eastern slope of the cascade range within the reserve is a mountainous region, with summits rising to a general elevation of , to , feet above the sea. it is forest covered and presents many attractions to the tourist and hunter; but it is not peculiar among the mountain regions of america either for grandeur or interest, and it is not an essential part of the area to be set apart as a national park. the western slope of the cascades within the reserve is short and steep as compared with the eastern. much of it is precipitous, particularly opposite mount rainier, where its bare walls would appear most grand were they not in the shadow of that overpowering peak. north and south of rainier this slope is more gradual and densely wooded. the western half of the pacific reserve, that portion which it is proposed shall be made a national park, is characterized by mount rainier, whose summit is but miles from the western boundary of the reserve and whose glaciers extend beyond its limits. mount tacoma is not simply a volcanic cone, peculiar for its hugeness. it was formerly a vast volcanic dome, miles in radius to the north, west, and south; but rivers have cut deep canyons, glaciers have carved ample amphitheaters back into the mass, and now many serrate ridges rising from a few hundred to , feet above the sea converge at that altitude to support the central pyramid, which towers more than , feet above its base. this grand mountain is not, like mount blanc, merely the dominant peak of a chain of snow mountains; it is the only snow peak in view, mount st. helens and mount adams being, like it, isolated and many miles distant. rainier is majestic in its isolation, reaching , to , feet above its neighbors. it is superb in its boldness, rising from one canyon , feet in miles. not only is it the grandest mountain in this country, it is one of the grand mountains of the world, to be named with st. elias, fusiyama, and ararat, and the most superb summits of the alps. eminent scientists of england and germany, who, as members of the alpine club of switzerland and travelers of wide experience, would naturally be conservative in their judgment, have borne witness to the majesty of the scenery about rainier. in professor zittel, a well-known german geologist, and prof. james bryce, member of parliament and author of the american commonwealth, made a report on the scenery about mount rainier. among other things, they said: "the scenery of mount rainier is of rare and varied beauty. the peak itself is as noble a mountain as we have ever seen in its lines and structure. the glaciers which descend from its snow fields present all the characteristic features of those in the alps, and though less extensive than the ice streams of the mount blanc or monta rosa groups are in their crevasses and séracs equally striking and equally worthy of close study. we have seen nothing more beautiful in switzerland or tyrol, in norway or in the pyrenees, than the carbon river glaciers and the great puyallup glaciers; indeed, the ice in the latter is unusually pure, and the crevasses unusually fine. the combination of ice scenery with woodland scenery of the grandest type is to be found nowhere in the old world, unless it be in the himalayas, and, so far as we know, nowhere else on the american continent." these eminent and experienced observers further say: "we may perhaps be permitted to express a hope that the suggestion will at no distant date be made to congress that mount rainier should, like the yosemite valley and the geyser region of the upper yellowstone, be reserved by the federal government and treated as a national park." but mount tacoma is single not merely because it is superbly majestic; it is an arctic island in a temperate zone. in a bygone age an arctic climate prevailed over the northwest, and glaciers covered the cascade range. arctic animals and arctic plants then lived throughout the region. as the climate became milder and glaciers melted, the creatures of the cold climate were limited in their geographic range to the districts of the shrinking glaciers. on the great peak the glaciers linger still. they give to it its greatest beauty. they are themselves magnificent, and with them survives a colony of arctic animals and plants which can not exist in the temperate climate of the less lofty mountains. these arctic forms are as effectually isolated as shipwrecked sailors on an island in mid-ocean. there is no refuge for them beyond their haunts on ice-bound cliffs. but even there the birds and animals are no longer safe from the keen sportsman, and the few survivors must soon be exterminated unless protected by the government in a national park. the area of the pacific forest reserve includes valuable timber and important water supplies. it is said to contain coal, gold, and silver. the timber on the western slope differs from that on the eastern in size and density of growth and in kinds of trees. the forests of puget sound are world-renowned for the magnitude and beauty of their hemlocks, cedars, and firs. their timber constitutes one of the most important resources of the state. nowhere are they more luxuriant than on the foothills west and north of mount rainier. but their value as timber is there subordinate to their value as regulators of floods. the puyallup river, whose lower valley is a rich hop garden, is even now subject to floods during the rapid melting of the snow on mount rainier in the limited area above timber line. in the broader area below timber line, but above , feet in elevation, the depth of snow in the winter of was to feet. protected by the dense canopy of the fir and hemlock trees this snow melts slowly and the river is high from march to june. but let the forest be once destroyed by fire or by lumbermen and the snows of each winter, melting in early spring, will annually overwhelm the puyallup valley and transform it into a gravelly waste. the same is true of white river and the nisqually. the forests of the eastern slope, tributary to the yakima, are of even greater importance as water preservers. they constitute a great reservoir, holding back the precipitation of the wet season and allowing it to filter down when most needed by crops. in the yakima valley water gives to land its value. storage of flood waters and extensive distribution by canals is necessary. the forests being preserved to control the water, the natural storage basins should be improved and canals built. for these reasons it is most important that no part of the forest reserve should be sacrificed, even though the eastern half is not included in the national park. the boundaries of the proposed national park have been so drawn as to exclude from its area all lands upon which coal, gold, or other valuable minerals are supposed to occur, and they conform to the purpose that the park shall include all features of peculiar scenic beauty without encroaching on the interests of miners or settlers. none save those who can march and camp in the primeval forest can now visit mount rainier; but it is the wilderness, not the distance, that makes it difficult of approach. on the west the distance up the nisqually river from the railroad at yelm prairie to the reserve is but miles. though heavily timbered, the valley of the nisqually affords an easy route for a railroad. the cowlitz valley also offers a line of approach without difficulty by rail, it being about miles from the railroad to the reserve. on the northwest the railroad at wilkeson is but miles from the summit of mount rainier, and the glaciers can be reached by riding miles through the great forest. on the north the cascade branch of the northern pacific railroad crosses the range, only miles in a direct line and miles along the summit from the northern limit of the reserve. on the east the city of north yakima is but miles from the summit of mount rainier. the proposed park covers a mountain region which lies across the line of travel from east to west. the railroad winds northward; the travel down the columbia river turns southward to avoid it. the great current of tourists which flows north and south through portland, tacoma, seattle, vancouver, and alaska passes to the west within sight of mount rainier, and when the grand old mountain is obscured by clouds the travelers linger to see it, or, passing regretfully on their way, know that they have missed the finest view of their trip. when a railroad is built up the nisqually or cowlitz valley to the park and connection by stages is assured northward to the cascade branch of the northern pacific railroad and eastward to yakima, the flood of travel will be diverted through the park. the point which combines accessibility with surroundings of great beauty, and which is therefore most appropriate as a hotel site, is southeast of mount rainier, on one of the spurs of the tatoosh mountains, near the cowlitz valley. to open this region to travel it would be sufficient to establish the hotel and its connections down the nisqually or cowlitz valley, together with trails to points of interest within the park. from the hotel a principal trail would extend north to the emmons and white river glaciers, which would thus be easily accessible, and thence the railroad at wilkeson could readily be reached on horseback over the old northern pacific trail. in the future, stage roads, or possibly a railroad, would be extended over the cowlitz pass to the eastern slope, north yakima would be reached via the tieton or tannum valley, and tannum lake would become a favorite resort. but the highway which would challenge the world for its equal in grand scenery would extend from the cowlitz pass northward along the crest of the range to the cascade branch. the distance is miles, in the park and beyond it to the railroad. within the reserve the summit is open and park-like. on the east is a sea of mountains; on the west is a bold descent of , feet to the valleys of cowlitz and white rivers, beyond which tacoma rises in overpowering grandeur, , feet above the road and only miles distant. a committee of your memorialists has carefully examined the existing maps of the state of washington with special reference to the position of this reserve, and finds that the boundaries of the reserve are farther east, in relation to mount rainier, than was supposed. the western boundary traverses the slope of mount rainier at altitudes of , to , feet, and the glaciers extend several miles beyond it. in order to include all of the glacial area and the immediately adjacent forest on the west, your memorialists respectfully recommend that the western boundary of the park be drawn one range west of that of the reserve, viz., at the range line between ranges and east of the willamette meridian. by this change no part of the wilkeson-carbonado coal field would be included in the park. your memorialists find, as already stated, that it is not necessary to include the eastern slope of the cascades in the park, and furthermore that it is desirable to leave the natchez pass on the north and the cowlitz pass on the south open for the construction of railroads. your memorialists therefore pray that the park be defined by the following boundaries: beginning at the northwest corner of sec. , t. n., r. e. of the willamette meridian; thence south miles more or less to the southwest corner of sec. , t. n., r. e.; thence east miles more or less to the summit of the cascade range; thence in a northerly direction to a point east of the place of beginning, and thence west miles more or less to the place of beginning. your memorialists respectfully represent that-- railroad lines have been surveyed and after the establishment of a national park would soon be built to its boundaries. the concessions for a hotel, stopping places, and stage routes could be leased and the proceeds devoted to the maintenance of the park. the policing of the park could be performed from the barracks at vancouver by details of soldiers, who would thus be given useful and healthful employment from may to october. the establishment of a hotel would afford opportunity for a weather station, which, in view of the controlling influence exerted by mount rainier on the moisture-laden winds from the pacific, would be important in relation to local weather predictions. your memorialists further represent that this region of marvelous beauty is even now being seriously marred by careless camping parties. its valuable forests and rare animals are being injured and will certainly be destroyed unless the forest reserve be policed during the camping seasons. but efficient protection of the undeveloped wilderness is extraordinarily difficult and in this case practically impossible. therefore, for the preservation of the property of the united states, for the protection from floods of the people of washington in the yakima, cowlitz, nisqually, puyallup, and white river valleys, and for the pleasure and education of the nation, your memorialists pray that the area above described be declared a national park forever. for the national geographic society: gardiner g. hubbard, _president._ for the american association for the advancement of science: j. w. powell. for the geological society of america: bailey willis. for the sierra club: john muir. for the appalachian mountain club: john ritchie, jr. washington, d.c., _june , _. xviii. mount rainier is , feet high by the united states geological survey the united states geological survey issued a bulletin for newspaper publication on january , , giving the height of the mountain as determined by the most accurate and definitive methods known. that bulletin is here given as it was then issued. at the same time f. e. matthes, topographer with the survey, sent additional comment to the sierra club of california, by whom it was published in the sierra bulletin for january, . this comment is now reproduced by permission of the sierra club. the height of the summit of mount rainier, washington, has been determined by the united states geological survey to be , feet above mean sea level. this elevation now officially displaces the former supposed height of the mountain of , feet and accords to mount rainier the distinction of being the second highest mountain peak in the united states, mount whitney, california, being the highest. the correct height of rainier was determined by a party of topographic engineers of the survey in connection with the mapping of the mount rainier national park, which was completed last summer. the topographic survey of the park was begun in by f. e. matthes, continued in by mr. matthes and george r. davis, and finished in by c. h. birdseye, w. o. tufts, o. g. taylor, and s. e. taylor. in the mapping of the summit of the mountain a terrific blizzard was encountered; in fact, two ascents of the upper portion of the mountain were necessary. the first ascent of the upper , feet was begun at o'clock a.m., august [ ], and dawn broke with every indication of developing into a beautiful day. on reaching the summit the men encountered a terrific gale, clouds enveloped the mountain, preventing observations, and by noon snow began to fall. a descent was attempted, but the party became hopelessly lost in a labyrinth of crevasses, the storm developing into a blizzard. to descend further was impossible; to remain was suicide. consequently a return to the crater was ordered, and the men reached it after a two hours' climb, utterly exhausted and nearly frozen. here they sought shelter in one of the steam caves, where during the long night they were thoroughly steamed and half frozen in turn. strenuous measures were employed by the men to keep from falling asleep and freezing to death. as it was, their fingers and ears were badly frozen. finally, with a rising barometer, they succeeded in descending , feet to a temporary camp, making the descent in three hours. here they recuperated and prepared for another ascent, which was accomplished on august , the start being made at o'clock in the morning. good weather was encountered and the mapping of the entire summit was finished by o'clock. "if anyone thinks that american glaciers are play glaciers, or that the weather which may be encountered at the summit of mount rainier in august is uniformly balmy and springlike," said mr. birdseye, whose fingers and ears were badly frosted, "let him climb mount rainier during one of its summer blizzards. the steam caves in the crater are not the pleasantest places imaginable to spend the night in, but had they not been there, not one of us would be alive today to tell the tale." comment by f. e. matthes the mountaineers of the pacific northwest will no doubt jubilate at the above announcement by the united states geological survey of the new figure for the altitude of mount rainier. it places that peak close to the top of the list of high mountains in the united states. mount rainier's closest rival on the pacific coast, mount shasta, it so happens, has just recently been beheaded by the united states coast and geodetic survey, and now can claim no more than , feet, that is, feet less than it once boasted. the great volcano of puget sound is thus left well in the lead. a review of the different figures that have been announced in the past for each of the higher peaks of the united states would almost justify one to infer that these summits have a peculiar habit of fluctuating in height from time to time. both rainier and shasta have been notorious for their inconstancy; so much so indeed that it is to be feared that the public will lose faith somewhat in the trustworthiness of altitude determinations in general. there is good reason to believe, however, that the last announcements for these two peaks are not likely to be changed again. about mount shasta, perhaps the coast survey is the only party able to speak positively; but as regards mount rainier, the geological survey feels satisfied that the new figure is the best that can be obtained with modern methods and instruments. the elevation of mount whitney ( , ft.), it may be remembered, was determined by actual leveling, but such procedure would have been impossible on mount rainier, as the most practicable route to its summit leads over many miles of snow and ice, and up a precipitous chute several hundred feet in height. on thawing snow accurate leveling is out of the question, for the instrument can not be set up so firmly that it will not settle slightly between back and fore sights. to execute this pottering kind of work in freezing weather would entail both hardship and great expense. but the obstacle that would have proved entirely insuperable to levels on mount rainier and led to the abandoning of that method is the dreaded gibraltar rock, well known to many who read this magazine [sierra club bulletin]. to carry levels up its precipitous side is for practical considerations all but impossible. it was necessary, in the case of mount rainier, to resort to long-distance methods of angulation. that is to say, sights were taken to its summit from neighboring peaks, six to eight miles distant, the altitudes of which had been carefully determined, and the positions of which with respect to the mountain's summit had been computed from a scheme of triangulation. it is not possible to execute vertical-angle measurements of this sort with the precision obtainable by leveling; at the same time by providing a sufficient number of checks and repeating each measurement many times a result can be attained that can be relied on within a foot or two. and closer than that the determination of a snowcapped peak, such as mount rainier, need scarcely be; for its actual height is bound to fluctuate by several feet from year to year and even from month to month. it is gratifying to note how closely the new trigonometric determination of mount rainier accords with the barometric one of prof. alexander mcadie ( , ft.). it is hoped that this agreement between the results of two fundamentally different methods will strengthen public faith in their reliability, and lead to the discarding of other figures (some of them much exaggerated) that have appeared in print from time to time. in closing, it may be said, that the geological survey's bulletin little more than hints at the fortitude and pluck of mr. birdseye and his party in their almost disastrous experiences on the peak. survey men are so frequently confronted by peril in their daily work, that they are not apt to write or talk about it, and as a consequence the public seldom learns the intimate details. it is to be hoped that the history of this undertaking will some day appear in full. [illustration: peter rainier. admiral of the blue, royal navy. ] xix. place names and elevations in mount rainier national park place names within a region like the mount rainier national park are produced by three causes: the first and most important is the actual need of such names by those who work within the park and by those who report upon or write about it. the second is the natural desire to honor those individuals whose achievements are worthy of commemoration. the third cause is found in the vanity of visitors. this is sometimes manifested in the harmless and often helpful desire just to be the one to name something, but usually it takes the form of a desire of visitors to write the names of themselves or their friends upon the map. the ranger who discovers from a look-out peak a distant fire near some unnamed lake or cliff hastens to a telephone, but finds his work of sending fire fighters to the place of danger much more difficult than if he could use some definite place name. trail builders and patrols continually find a similar need for names. for their own use they proceed to invent names which often stick. the mountaineers in found that a trail builder had supplied such a need by giving a beautiful waterfall near his trail the name of his favorite brand of canned peaches. more care of such matters is now being exercised by those interested working through the united states geographic board. the elevations given are taken from the official map and other government publications. in time all important heights will be definitely determined and marked. it is hoped that this compilation of the names may be improved from year to year. further facts about any of the names would be welcomed by the editor of this work. =ada creek.= a tributary of huckleberry creek near the northern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =adelaide lake.= near the north-central boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =affi falls.= in lodi creek, in the north-central portion of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =alice falls.= in spukwush creek, in the northwestern portion of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =alki crest.= in the northwestern corner of the park. the name is from the chinook jargon meaning "by and by." =allen lake.= see lake allen. =alta vista.= a point near the snow line on the south-central slope. it was named by john p. hartman, who visited the place with a tacoma party in . the name is spanish and means "high view." =anvil rock.= on the southern slope, near the upper cowlitz glacier. the name is descriptive, but who suggested it has not been ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =arthur peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =august peak.= near the northwestern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =avalanche camp.= on the north slope. named by a member of the mountaineers, during that club's first ascent in . elevation, , feet above sea level. =baker point.= outjutting portion of goat island mountain, overlooking emmons glacier. origin of name not ascertained. =bald rock.= on the southeastern slope, near the cowlitz divide. the name is descriptive. =barnes pass.= on western edge of the park. named in honor of the photographer, c. a. barnes, who discovered it while with j. h. weer and j. b. flett. =barrier peak.= a prolongation of governors ridge near the east-central boundary of the park. =basaltic falls.= on the southeastern slope of the mountain. one of the features of cowlitz park. named by prof. j. b. flett and h. h. garretson. =bear park.= in the northeastern corner of the park. =bee flat.= in the northwestern portion of the park, just south of chenuis mountain. =beehive.= large rock on the southeast slope. it was named by major e. s. ingraham in , who says: "it reminded me of one of those old-fashioned beehives." elevation, , feet above sea level. =beljica.= an interesting peak near the road leading from ashford to the park. the name is a composite made up of initials. in july, , a party of nine young people visiting the peak provided the name. the b was for burgon d. mesler, the e for any one of three--elizabeth drabe, elizabeth sharp and elizabeth mesler, the l for lucy k. lawall, the j for jessie k. lawall, the i for isabel mesler, the c for clara mesler, and the a for alexander mesler. =bench lake.= in the southern portion of the park. the land lying above the lake is called the bench. elevation of the lake, , feet above sea level. =berkeley park.= in the north-central portion of the park, between burroughs and skyscraper mountains. origin of name not ascertained. =berry peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. =boulder creek.= a tributary of ohanapecosh river, in the park of the same name, on the eastern slope of the mountain. =boundary peak.= appropriately named, as it lies on the southern boundary line of the park. =brown peak.= in the northeastern corner of the park. =buel peak.= near the east-central boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =burnt park.= in the northeastern corner of the park. =burroughs mountain.= on the northeast slope. it was named for the naturalist and was at first called john burroughs mountain. =butter creek.= flowing from the tatoosh range across the southern boundary of the park. =camp curtis.= on the northeast slope. named by the mountaineers in in honor of asahel curtis, leader of that club's first ascent. elevation, , feet above sea level. =camp delight.= see camp of the stars. =camp misery.= on the southern slope of the mountain at the base of the beehive. the name is descriptive. elevation, , feet above sea level. =camp muir.= on the southeast slope. named by major e. s. ingraham, in honor of the naturalist, john muir, who selected the temporary camping place during their ascent in , because the presence of pumice indicated a shelter from strong winds. elevation, , feet above sea level. =camp no camp.= on the southeastern slope, near the summit of the mountain. it is in the saddle near the summit of gibraltar. the name indicates a disappointed attempt at rest. elevation, , feet above sea level. =camp of the clouds.= on the south slope above paradise valley. named on august , , by charles e. kehoe, charles a. billings and george n. talcott of olympia. during their visit there the heavy banks of clouds parted and gave them a superb mountain view. elevation, , feet above sea level. =camp of the stars.= on the southeastern slope of the mountain, near the foot of gibraltar. it is a narrow shelf of rocks, affording space for a dozen climbers when crowded together and "feet hanging over." it was used by one of the ingraham parties, and h. e. holmes says they at first called it camp delight on account of their joy at the first rays of morning. elevation, about , feet above sea level. =canyon bridge.= in the southeastern part of the park. the muddy fork of the cowlitz river rushes through a very narrow and deep rift in the rocks. the spanning bridge gives an attractive view. =carbon glacier.= this glacier begins at the foot of willis wall on the north face of the mountain. =carbon river.= about coal was discovered on the banks of this river suggesting the name, which was also later given to the glacier from which the river has its source. =carter falls.= one of the beautiful features of the lower paradise river. named for an early guide who built the first trail to paradise valley. for years the longmires collected a fee of fifty cents from each one using the trail. it was willingly paid when it was explained that the money went to the builder of the trail. =castle rock.= in the northwestern portion of the park. named from its resemblance to an old castle. elevation, , feet above sea level. =cataract basin.= see mist park. =cataract creek.= flows from mist park to the carbon river in the northwestern portion of the park. about midway in its course are the beautiful cataract falls. =cathedral rocks.= extending southeast from the summit. it is an extensive cleaver between the upper cowlitz and ingraham glaciers. who first suggested the name has not been ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =chenuis mountain.= an extensive ridge near the northern boundary of the park. on the shoulders of the mountain rest three little lakes called chenuis lakes. from the northern slopes of the mountain there rises chenuis creek, which, near its junction with the carbon river at the northwestern boundary of the park, produces the beautiful chenuis falls. the name seems to be indian, but its origin has not been ascertained. elevation of the ridge, from , to , feet above sea level. =christine falls.= on the lower portion of van trump creek. mr. van trump says the falls "were named after my daughter, christine louise, by a friend john hayes, of yelm." elevation, , feet above sea level. =cliff lake.= in the south-central portion of the park, between the tatoosh range and the boundary. =clover lakes.= in white river park, in the northwestern part of the park. =cold basin.= in the northern portion of the park, just south of grand park. =colonnade.= the ridge lying between the south mowich and the puyallup glaciers on the west-central slope of the mountain. =columbia crest.= name suggested by h. e. holmes of the ingraham party in . they had spent two nights in the crater and before leaving voted on a name for the highest part of the summit, with columbia crest as the result. it has occasionally been called the dome. by stevens and van trump it was called crater peak. elevation, , feet above sea level. =comet falls.= on the southern slope of the mountain, in van trump park. elevation, , feet above sea level. =cougar falls.= near the southern boundary of the park, in the nickel creek tributary of the cowlitz river. =cowlitz chimneys.= pointed and columnar rocks on the east-central slope. though not adjacent to the glacier or river of that name, they undoubtedly got their name from one or the other. elevation , feet above sea level. =cowlitz cleaver.= near the southern peak of the summit. it is appropriately named, as it cleaves the higher streams of ice part of which flow into puget sound and the rest into the columbia river. =cowlitz divide.= a ridge running from north to south in the southeastern corner of the park. =cowlitz glacier.= named by general hazard stevens and p. b. van trump in when they discovered it to be the source of the river by that name. it has its beginning from a group of smaller glaciers on the southeast slope of the mountain. above the glaciers lies cowlitz park. =cowlitz river.= the name appears as early as the lewis and clark reports, - , where it is spelled coweliskee. in varying forms it appears in the writings of all subsequent explorers. a tribe of indians by that name inhabited its valleys. the river finally flows southward into the columbia river. =cowlitz rocks.= a mass of rocks on the southeast slope, between the paradise and cowlitz glaciers. the rocks were named in by the veteran guide, jules stampfler, who found a name necessary to satisfy the curiosity of his companies of tourists. elevation, , feet above sea level. =crater lake.= on the northwest slope. bailey willis gave the name in . he recently wrote: "the amphitheatres which the young geologist mistook for craters are now known to be glacier basins eroded by ice." elevation, , feet above sea level. =crater peak.= see columbia crest. =crescent mountain.= on the northern slope. the name was used by bailey willis in . near the foot of this mountain lies crescent lake. =cress falls.= in the northwestern portion of the park, near spukwush creek. =crystal mountain.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain, overlooking indian henrys hunting ground. elevation, , feet above sea level. =cushman crest.= on the southern slope, overlooking nisqually glacier. named in honor of the late congressman f. w. cushman, of tacoma. =dege peak.= overlooking yakima park in the northern part of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =denman falls.= on the western slope, in st. andrews creek. named by ben longmire in honor of a. h. denman of tacoma, enthusiastic mountaineer and photographer. =devils dream creek.= on the southern slope of the mountain, a tributary of pyramid creek. origin of name not ascertained. =dick creek.= flowing from elysian fields to the carbon river in the northwestern portion of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =division rock.= at the lower end of north mowich glacier, on the northwestern slope of the mountain. =doe creek.= a tributary of ipsut creek in the northwestern portion of the park. =double peak.= near the southeastern boundary of the park. the height is marked at , feet. the name was suggested by its form. =eagle cliff.= overlooking spray creek in the northwestern portion of the park. =eagle peak.= near the south-central boundary of the park. elevation, , feet above sea level. =echo cliffs.= in the northwestern portion of the park above cataract creek. =echo rock.= on the northwest slope near russell glacier. major e. s. ingraham named it seattle rock because it may be seen from that city. he does not know who changed the name. =edith creek.= on the southern slope, a tributary of the paradise river. in , jules stampfler, the guide, was getting out a series of stereopticon views and he needed a name for that creek. he does not remember edith's full name. she was a member of one of his parties. =edmunds glacier.= on the western slope. in june, , the glaciers were visited by vice president oakes of the northern pacific railroad company and united states senator george f. edmunds of vermont. one result of that trip was an order to build what has since been known as the bailey willis trail to the northwestern slopes of the mountain. another subsequent result was the naming of the glacier in honor of senator edmunds. =elizabeth ridge.= near crater lake in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =elysian fields.= one of the beautiful park regions on the northern slope. the name was given by major e. s. ingraham in . elevation, , feet above sea level. =emerald ridge.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain, dividing the lower parts of the tahoma and south tahoma glaciers. the name is descriptive, but by whom it was first suggested has not been ascertained. =emmons glacier.= on the northeastern slope. this is the largest glacier on the mountain. for a long time it was called white glacier because it gave rise to the river of that name. the river's name came from the glacial whiteness of its waters. the present name is in honor of s. f. emmons, who, with a. d. wilson, made the second successful ascent of the mountain in . =eunice lake.= in the northwest corner of the park near tolmie peak. bailey willis named it tolmie lake in ; but it was not so mapped officially, and the name was changed to honor mrs. w. h. gilstrap of tacoma. she and her husband were frequent visitors to the crater lake region. =fairy falls.= on the southeastern slope, in the upper waters of stevens creek. elevation, , feet above sea level. =falls creek.= rises in north park and flows across the boundary at the northwestern corner of the park. =fay peak.= in the northwestern portion of the park, overlooking crater lake. elevation, , feet above sea level. the name was given in honor of miss fay fuller of tacoma, who in was the first of her sex to attain the summit of mount rainier. =fir lake.= a small lake in the southeastern corner of the park. =fish creek.= a tributary of tahoma creek in the southwestern corner of the park. =fishers hornpipe creek.= on the southern slope of the mountain, a tributary of pyramid creek. origin of name not ascertained. =flett glacier.= near ptarmigan ridge on the northwestern slope. the name is in honor of professor j. b. flett of tacoma, one of the most enthusiastic explorers of the mountain. =florence peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =frog heaven.= on the south-central slope of the mountain, to the west of narada falls. =frozen lake.= in the northern portion of the park, just south of mount fremont. =fryingpan glacier.= there are two conflicting theories about this name. one is that some campers lost a frying pan in the river, giving it that name, which was later extended to the glacier. the other is that professor i. c. russell named the glacier from its fancied resemblance to a frying pan, and that the name was later extended to the river. on the east-central slope of the mountain. =garda falls.= in granite creek, a tributary of winthrop creek, in the north-central portion of the park. named by c. a. barnes in honor of miss garda fogg of tacoma. =george lake.= see lake george. =gibraltar.= this famous and forbidding cliff of rock just southeast of the summit was named by the ingraham party in . elevation, , feet above sea level. =glacier basin.= on the northern slope of the mountain. it is a rather steep but attractive little park, with a small lake and good spring water. inter glacier is at its head and inter fork passes through it. miners at starbo camp maintain a little waterpower sawmill, and they have for years worked at prospective mines on the slopes of the basin. they have built a wagon road to their camp, by use of which tourists will soon become well acquainted with the beauties of glacier basin and the surrounding regions. elevation, , feet above sea level. =glacier island.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain. the name is descriptive, as the island lies between the lower parts of tahoma and south tahoma glaciers. =goat island mountain.= on the northeastern slope of the mountain, between emmons glacier and summer land. =goat island rock.= in the lower portion of carbon glacier, in the northwestern portion of the park. =golden lakes.= a cluster of beautiful lakes in and near sunset park, close to the west-central boundary of the park. at sundown they glow like molten gold. =gove peak.= in the northwestern portion of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =governors ridge.= toward the east-central boundary of the park. the name was suggested by superintendent ethan allen of the park. =grand park.= a high and extensive area in the northern portion of the park. the miles of relatively level ground, flower-strewn and ornamented with circular groves of alpine firs and hemlocks, with deer abundant every summer, make the name an appropriate one. elevation, , feet above sea level. =granite creek.= in the north-central portion of the park. it is a tributary of winthrop creek. =grant creek.= a tributary to spray creek in the northwestern portion of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =green lake.= in the northwestern corner of the park. =green park.= north of sourdough mountains, in the northeastern part of the park. =hall's camp.= see wigwam camp. =hayden creek.= a tributary of meadow creek in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =henrys hunting ground.= see indian henrys hunting ground. =hessong rock.= on the northwest slope overlooking spray park. it was named in honor of a photographer who lived at lake kapowsin. =hidden lake.= near white river park, in the northeastern part of the park. =howard peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =huckleberry creek.= takes its rise in the sourdough mountains and flows northward across the boundary of the park. =huckleberry park.= at the headwaters of huckleberry creek in the northeastern part of the park. =independence ridge.= extending from chenuis mountain to the northern boundary of the park. =indian bar.= a large gravel bar in ohanapecosh park on the eastern slope of the mountain. =indian henrys hunting ground.= about , a cowlitz indian began hunting mountain goats in that region. henry winsor, a pioneer mail carrier, asked his name and got an unpronounceable answer. "that's no name," said winsor, "your name is indian henry." his playful joke stuck. on the map the word "indian" is omitted, but the united states geographic board has voted to restore it. p. b. van trump said the indian's name was sotolick. =ingraham glacier.= this beautiful glacier lies between cathedral rocks and little tahoma on the southeast slope. it was named by professor i. c. russell in in honor of major e. s. ingraham of seattle. =inter glacier.= on the northeast slope. it was named by major e. s. ingraham in when he attempted but failed to ascend the mountain from the north side. the name was suggested by the glacier being hemmed in by a rim of rocks. =ipsut pass.= in the northwestern corner of the park. flowing from it to the carbon river is a stream called ipsut creek. the word is said to be a form of an indian word meaning "bear." =iron mountain.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain, overlooking indian henrys hunting ground. the name describes the masses of supposed iron stain. elevation, , feet above sea level. =jeanette heights.= on the west-central slope overlooking edmunds glacier. origin of name not ascertained. =josephine creek.= a tributary of huckleberry creek, taking its rise in green park. origin of name not ascertained. =june creek.= flows across the boundary in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =kautz glacier.= this glacier begins at the foot of peak success, the southern summit. it was named in honor of lieutenant (afterwards general) a. v. kautz, who attempted an ascent in . the creek flowing from the glacier bears the same name. =klapatche ridge.= near the west-central boundary of the park, between the north puyallup river and st. andrews creek. origin of name not ascertained. =knapsack pass.= in the northwestern portion of the park, a pass between fay peak and mother mountain from mist park to crater lake. =kotsuck creek.= flows across the east-central boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =lake allen.= on the west slope of mount wow in the southwestern corner of the park. to avoid confusion, it was originally named lake o. d. allen. the name was given in honor of the veteran botanist, who was at one time a professor at yale university. =lake eleanor.= near the northern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =lake ethel.= in the north-central portion of the park, with outlet into the west fork of white river. the name was suggested by the mountaineers in as a compliment to the daughter of park ranger thomas e. o'farrell. =lake george.= on the western slope of mount wow in the southwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =lake james.= in the north-central portion of the park, with outlet into van horn creek. the name was suggested by the mountaineers in as a compliment to the young son of thomas e. o'farrell, park ranger. =lake tom.= a small lake near arthur peak in the northwestern corner of the park. =landslide.= on the northwest of slide mountain, in the northeastern corner of the park. =lee creek.= a tributary of crater creek in the northwestern portion of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =liberty cap.= the northern peak of the summit of mount rainier. it has been claimed that stevens and van trump gave this name at the time of their first ascent in , but mr. van trump says they called it tahoma peak. one of the early uses of the present name was by bailey willis, who wrote in : "over the trees near the outlet, just to the right of this pinnacle, a pure white peak towers up into the heavens; it is the northern summit of mount tacoma,--the liberty cap." elevation, , feet above sea level. =liberty ridge.= to the west of willis wall and overlooking the head of carbon glacier near the northern summit. the name was adopted in by the engineers of the united states geological survey who made the official map of the park. it was suggested by john h. williams, author of the book entitled "the mountain that was god." =little tahoma peak.= a towering and rugged peak on the east flank of mount rainier. very few adventuresome climbers have as yet attained its summit. elevation, , feet above sea level. the only ascent known was made by prof. j. b. flett and h. h. garretson. =lodi creek.= a tributary of white river, in the north-central portion of the park. the name is said to have been given by early prospectors for minerals. =longmire springs.= near the southeastern boundary of the park. the springs were discovered by the pioneer, james longmire, who acquired title to the property and lived there until his death on september , . members of his family still maintain a resort there. the national park inn, a postoffice, park offices, and other conveniences make longmire the capital of the park. elevation, , feet above sea level. =lost creek.= flows across the northeastern boundary of the park. =louise lake.= in the south-central portion of the park between mazama ridge and tatoosh range. origin of name not ascertained. =mcclure rock.= on the southeastern slope near paradise glacier. it marks the place of the tragic death of professor edgar mcclure, of the university of oregon, in , while descending after taking barometric measurements at the summit. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mcnealey peak.= a part of sourdough mountains in the northern part of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =madcap falls.= on the southern slope of the mountain, in the paradise river between narada falls and carter falls. =maple falls.= in a creek of the same name, near the southern boundary of the park. the creek is a tributary of stevens creek. =marcus peak.= a part of sourdough mountains in the northeastern part of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =margaret falls.= on the southeast slope, between cowlitz park and cowlitz glacier. the name was in honor of one of the daughters of e. s. hall, former superintendent of the park. =marie falls.= on the southeast slope, in the upper waters of nickel creek. origin of name not ascertained. =marjorie lakes.= near the north-central boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =marmot creek.= a tributary of cataract creek, draining seattle park, in the northwestern portion of the park. the name is for the whistling marmot, so plentiful in that region. =marsh lakes.= in the southern part of the park. =martha falls.= on the southeast slope. the falls were named in honor of the wife of the late elcaine longmire, by ben longmire, the son. =martin peak.= on the northwestern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =mary belle falls.= on the southeast slope in the upper waters of nickel creek. the name was suggested by superintendent ethan allen in honor of one of the daughters of e. s. hall, former superintendent of the park. =mazama ridge.= on the southern slope of the mountain, beginning at sluiskin falls. named for the oregon mountain climbing club whose main camp was pitched there in . =meadow creek.= near the northwestern boundary of the park. it rises near tolmie peak and was named by bailey willis in . =mildred point.= on the southwest slope, overlooking the foot of kautz glacier. origin of name not ascertained. =mineral mountain.= on the north-central slope of the mountain, overlooking mystic lake. the name tells the hopes of early prospectors who worked there before the national park was created. =mirror lakes.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain, in indian henrys hunting ground. =mist park.= in the northwestern portion of the park, on the shoulders of mother mountain. elevation, , feet above sea level. this park is also known as cataract basin. =moraine park.= on the northern slope, bordering carbon glacier. it was named by professor i. c. russell. =mosquito flat.= in the north-central portion of the park, near lakes james and ethel. the name indicates that the place was first visited at an unfortunate season. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mother mountain.= an extensive ridge in the northwestern portion of the park. the name came from the figure of a woman in the rock on the northeastern summit of the ridge clearly seen silhouetted against the sky by those traveling on the carbon river trail. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mount ararat.= on the southwest slope, overlooking indian henrys hunting ground. ben longmire writes: "i named it because i found there some long slabs of wood that had turned to stone and i thought they might have been part of old noah's boat. i also found a stump with a ring around it as if his rope might have been tied there. it was all stone." elevation, , feet above sea level. =mount fremont.= in the northern portion of the park at the western extremity of sourdough mountains. the origin of the name has not been ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mount pleasant.= in the northwestern portion of the park, overlooking mist and spray parks. =mount rainier.= named for admiral peter rainier of the british navy by captain george vancouver in . for his own account of the discovery and naming of the mountain, see chapter i of this book. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mount ruth.= on the northeastern slope of the mountain, overlooking the inter and emmons glaciers. the name was given in honor of ruth knapp, daughter of the prospector who built "knapp's cabin," a landmark for tourists in the glacier basin region. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mount wow.= in the southwestern corner of the park. it is sometimes called goat mountain. elevation, , feet above sea level. =mountain meadows.= in the northwestern corner of the park. the name originated with bailey willis in . elevation, , feet above sea level. =mowich glaciers.= on the western and northwestern slopes of the mountain are two beautiful glaciers known as north and south mowich. the name is from the chinook jargon, meaning "deer." who first suggested the name has not been ascertained. each glacier has its draining stream. these flow together, making mowich river, which crosses the northwestern boundary of the park. north mowich was once called willis glacier and south mowich was called edmunds glacier. =muddy fork.= on the southeastern slope of the mountain. one of several sources of the cowlitz river, it drains from the foot of the large cowlitz glacier. =myrtle falls.= on the southern slope in edith creek, a tributary of the paradise river. the name was given by jules stampfler, the guide, in . myrtle was a member of one of his parties, but he has forgotten the rest of her name. =mystic lake.= on the northern slope of the mountain, between the winthrop and carbon glaciers. it is a favorite place for campers who expect to attempt the ascent of the mountain on its northern slopes. elevation, , feet above sea level. named by prof. j. b. flett and h. h. garretson on account of a mysterious temporary whirlpool seen near its outlet. =nahunta falls.= on the south slope. at one time the falls had the name marie, but it was changed at the suggestion of secretary josephus daniels of the united states navy department. he says: "the name was familiar to me as one given by the carolina tuscarora to a river in north carolina and also to their largest fort or 'head town.'" secretary daniels obtained from the bureau of american ethnology information that the name has appeared under various spellings and may mean "tall trees" or "tall timbers." =narada falls.= on the south-central slope, the principal feature of the lower paradise river. an effort was recently made to change the name to cushman falls in honor of the late congressman f. w. cushman, a strong friend of the park. the present name is of theosophical origin. narada was a spiritual being worshipped by the brahman people in india by reason of his service to the first race of men. among modern theosophists the word has become a metaphysical subject, the greater part of which is given to esoteric students and cannot be revealed. the word itself means "uncontaminated." the wonderful beauty of the scene, in its pure and original form, suggested the name to an early group of visitors, theosophists, consisting of the following persons: professor e. o. schwägerl, mr. and mrs. george a. sheffield, mr. and mrs. arthur knight, miss ida wright (now mrs. vern mudgett), mrs. addie g. barlow and mr. henry carter. elevation, , feet above sea level. =national park inn.= at longmire springs near the southwestern entrance to the park. this attractive hotel has frequently been so overrun with guests that numerous tents have been used for sleeping quarters. these are placed in the groves of pines and firs on the bank of the nisqually river. many trips to interesting parts of the mountain are made from the inn. elevation, , feet above sea level. =natural bridge.= in the north-central portion of the park. many photographers have scrambled to the scene of this natural curiosity. elevation, , feet above sea level. =needle creek.= near the east-central boundary of the park. it is a tributary of kotsuck creek and takes its rise near the sharp cliffs of cowlitz chimneys, which may have suggested the name "needle." =needle rock.= on the northwest slope, overlooking the north mowich glacier. the name was given by professor j. b. flett from its supposed resemblance to cleopatra's needle. elevation, , feet above sea level. =nisqually glacier.= the large glacier flowing from the southern flank of mount rainier. it was named by stevens and van trump in when they found it to be the source of nisqually river. =nisqually river.= rising at the foot of nisqually glacier, it flows southwesterly through the park and empties into puget sound between tacoma and olympia. it was mentioned in the journal of john work of the hudson's bay company, as early as . the first settlement by white men on puget sound was made by the hudson's bay company near its mouth in may, . that trading post was called nisqually house. rev. myron eells, the talented missionary, says the word comes from the native word, "squally-o-bish," from the tribe of that name. =north mowich.= see mowich. =north park.= in the northwestern corner of the park. elevation, about , feet above sea level. =northern crags.= in the northwestern portion of the park, overlooking elysian fields. =observation rock.= on the northwest slope near flett glacier. in it was named observation point by prof. l. f. henderson. an extensive view of western washington is to be had from its top. elevation, , feet above sea level. =ohanapecosh glacier.= on the east-central slope of the mountain. below the glacier lies the beautiful ohanapecosh park, from which flows the river of the same name, which passes out of the park at the northeastern corner of the boundary. the name is indian, but its meaning has not been ascertained. =old desolate.= a ridge in the northwestern portion of the park between moraine and vernal parks. =ollala creek.= in the southeastern corner of the park. the name is from the chinook jargon, meaning "berries." =owyhigh lakes.= near the east-central boundary of the park. the yakima had a great war leader, chief owhigh, and this is apparently an honor for him. see narrative by theodore winthrop in this book, chapter iv. =panhandle gap.= on the east-central slope of the mountain, above the sarvent glaciers. elevation, about , feet above sea level. =panorama point.= on the southern slope of the mountain, overlooking nisqually glacier. =paradise glacier.= on the southeast slope. in , stevens and van trump called it little nisqually glacier. =paradise river.= stevens and van trump called the river glacier creek in . =paradise valley.= on the south-central slope. this is the best known part of the park. david longmire says that his mother (wife of the pioneer, james longmire) and a mrs. jameson were the first women to visit the region. as they wound up the zigzag trail through the forest they were suddenly in the midst of most wonderful mountain scenery. "o, what a paradise!" exclaimed one. "yes, a real paradise," answered the other. that was in , and the name paradise has remained in use for the valley and has also been extended to the river and the glacier from which it takes its source. =paul peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =peak success.= the southern summit of mount rainier. it was named in by stevens and van trump on the occasion of their making the first ascent of the mountain. the new map calls it point success. elevation, , feet above sea level. =pearl creek.= on the southern slope of the mountain, draining pyramid glacier into kautz creek. about midway in its course the creek plunges over what are known as pearl falls. =pigeon creek.= near the north-central boundary of the park. =pinnacle peak.= one of the most dominant peaks of the tatoosh range in the south-central portion of the park. its height is marked at , feet. on its northern slope lies an ice field called pinnacle glacier. the ascent of this peak is attempted by many visitors starting from paradise valley. =plummer peak.= near the south-central boundary of the park. the name was suggested by superintendent ethan allen in honor of the late fred g. plummer, geographer of the united states forest service. =point success.= see peak success. =prospector creek.= a tributary of huckleberry creek in the northeastern part of the park. =ptarmigan ridge.= on the northwestern slope of the mountain, lying north of the north mowich glacier and south of the flett and russell glaciers. the name was given on account of the large number of ptarmigan families found there each summer. named by prof. j. b. flett and h. h. garretson. =puyallup cleaver.= the large ridge of rocks on the western slope of the mountain, dividing the puyallup and tahoma glaciers. =puyallup glacier.= on the western slope. its name comes from the fact that it feeds one of the branches of the puyallup river. =puyallup river.= two forks of this river rise from the glaciers on the western and southwestern slopes of the mountain. the river empties into puget sound at tacoma harbor. there have been many spellings of the word in early annals. rev. myron eells says the tribe of indians living on the river called themselves "puyallupnamish." =pyramid park.= on the southern slope of the mountain, adjacent to pyramid peak. from the park flows a stream called pyramid creek, and above the park lies pyramid glacier, between south tahoma and kautz glaciers. =pyramid peak.= on the southwestern slope, overlooking indian henrys hunting ground. it was named by james l. mosman, of yelm, because of its resemblance to a perfect pyramid. the same name has been extended to a small park and glacier to the northeastward of the peak. elevation, , feet above sea level. =rainier.= see mount rainier. =rampart ridge.= on the southern slope of the mountain. this ridge is a prominent group of crags rising above longmire springs. elevation, , feet above sea level. the nearer and higher portion of the ridge is known as the ramparts. the name is an old one, but who first suggested it has not been ascertained. elevation of the ramparts, , feet above sea level. =ranger creek.= in the northwestern corner of the park, flowing into carbon river near the ranger station at the boundary of the park. =redstone peak.= in the north-central portion of the park, between the headwaters of van horn creek and white river. =reese's camp.= on the south-central slope of the mountain, in paradise park. for a number of years john l. reese has accommodated visitors in a log and canvas hotel with numerous tents for sleeping rooms. the name of his camp has grown so familiar that other names are forgotten. the site of his hotel was once known as theosophy ridge. beginning with , the rainier national park company, a new corporation composed of prominent citizens, will supplant reese's camp with a modern hotel and will provide garages, lunch-stations and other conveniences for the tourists. the elevation at reese's camp is , feet above sea level. =reflection lakes.= on the south-central slope of the mountain. these lakes are visited by all who make the trip to pinnacle peak from paradise valley. elevation, , feet above sea level. =register rock.= on the rim of the crater, where there is securely fastened in the rocks a record on which all successful climbers by way of the gibraltar route sign their names. elevation, , feet above sea level, or feet below columbia crest, the actual summit. =ricksecker point.= on the southern slope. it was named in honor of eugene ricksecker, the engineer, who had charge of building the government road in the park. elevation, , feet above sea level. =round pass.= near the southwestern boundary of the park. it is understood that the name is to be changed to halls pass in honor of former superintendent e. s. hall. =rushingwater creek.= flows from the golden lakes across the west-central boundary of the park. =russell cliff.= at the summit, east of liberty cap. it was named by the mountaineers club, during an ascent in , in honor of professor i. c. russell. =russell glacier.= on the northern slope, just west of carbon glacier. it was named in honor of professor i. c. russell. =rust ridge.= in the northwestern corner of the park. =st. andrews park.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain. among the first campers in that region was a group of choir boys from st. mark's (episcopal) church of seattle. it is said that they called the place st. andrews park. the stream flowing out of it is now called st. andrews creek, and high up on the western slope is st. andrews rock, at the entrance to sunset amphitheatre. =st. elmo pass.= on the north slope, through the ridge that divides the winthrop and inter glaciers. it was named by major e. s. ingraham, who says: "in , i camped on the ridge with my party. during the night a great thunderstorm arose and we could hear the peals of thunder below. a couple of boys who were with the party were sleeping above us. suddenly they called out that the storm was over because they could see the stars. i, too, saw stars, but i did not think they were real. i got up and began to investigate. what the boys thought were stars was st. elmo fire which had settled on their alpenstocks. even the cooking utensils were aflame with it, and our heads shone. i explained the phenomenon and the place was called st. elmo pass." elevation, , feet above sea level. =st. jacobs lake.= a small lake in the southeastern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =sarvent glaciers.= two small but interesting glaciers on the east-central slope, draining into fryingpan creek. they were named in honor of henry m. sarvent, the engineer, who made the first detailed map of the mountain. =scarface.= near the north-central boundary of the park. the name is descriptive. elevation, , feet above sea level. =seattle park.= a small but beautiful area in the northwestern portion of the park between the russell and carbon glaciers. it was named for the city of seattle. =shadow lake.= on the east-central slope of the mountain, east of burroughs mountain. elevation, , feet above sea level. =shaw creek.= a tributary of white river near the eastern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. =silvan island.= on the south side of emmons glacier. named by prof. j. b. flett. =silver falls.= in the southeastern corner of the park. =skyscraper mountain.= in the north-central portion of the park, overlooking berkeley park. it is a recent name and comes from its supposed resemblance to a modern style of architecture. elevation, , feet above sea level. =slide mountain.= in the northeastern corner of the park. elevation, , feet above sea level. =sluiskin falls.= on the southeastern slope, in the upper waters of paradise river. named by stevens and van trump, in , in honor of their indian guide. elevation, , feet above sea level. =sluiskin mountain.= in the north-central portion of the park, overlooking vernal park. evidently an additional, though later, honor for the indian guide of stevens and van trump. elevation, , feet above sea level. =snow lake.= near the southern boundary of the park. =sotolick point.= on the southwest slope. the name is spelled "satulick" on the map. it was suggested by p. b. van trump, who says sotolick was the name of indian henry. elevation, , feet above sea level. =south mowich.= see mowich. =south tahoma.= see tahoma. =spray falls.= on the northwestern slope of the mountain. the highest and most beautiful falls on the north side of the mountain. it was probably named when the bailey willis trail was built by it in . the abundant water breaks into a mass of spray. elevation, , feet above sea level. =spray park.= above spray falls lies this extensive and most beautiful park. its elevation is from , to , feet above sea level. several lakes drain into spray creek, which produces spray falls. the name originated at the falls and was later extended to the creek and park. =spukwush creek.= flowing from chenuis mountain to carbon river in the northwestern portion of the park. the name seems to be indian, but its origin has not been ascertained. =squaw lake.= on the southwestern slope of the mountain, near the entrance to indian henrys hunting ground. it is said that the squaw camped there while her hunter husband went further up the slopes for his game. =starbo camp.= in glacier basin, on the northern slope of the mountain. it is named for the miner who has maintained a camp there for a number of years. further information is given under the head of glacier basin. =steamboat prow.= on the north slope of the mountain. the appropriateness of this name is apparent to any who have visited the upper ice fields of the winthrop and emmons glaciers. the pointed cliff seems to be buffeting a sea of ice. elevation, , feet above sea level. =stevens glacier.= on the southeastern slope, adjoining paradise glacier. the name is in honor of general hazard stevens who, with p. b. van trump, made the first ascent of the mountain in . the creek flowing from the glacier is called stevens creek; its deep bed is stevens canyon, and the overlooking crags are stevens ridge. =stevens peak.= near the southern boundary of the park. the name is probably an additional honor for general hazard stevens. elevation, , feet above sea level. =success glacier.= on the southern slope of the mountain, flowing into kautz glacier. between success glacier and south tahoma glacier lies a ridge called success cleaver. for the origin of the name see peak success. =summer land.= one of the mountain's most beautiful parks, on the east-central slope, above fryingpan creek. it was named by major e. s. ingraham in . =sunbeam falls.= on the southern slope of the mountain, in a tributary of stevens creek. =sunrise ridge.= appropriately named as being at the northeastern edge of the park. a stream flowing from the ridge is called sunrise creek. elevation, about , feet above sea level. =sunset amphitheatre.= a huge cirque extending up toward liberty cap on the western side of the mountain. from it flow the puyallup and tahoma glaciers. =sunset park.= so named because it extends to the west-central boundary of the park. =sweet peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =sylvia falls.= on the southeastern slope, in stevens creek. ben longmire, who is quite a wag, says: "bill stafford named some falls, sylvia falls, after his sweetheart, and she has not spoken to him since." =tahoma glacier.= on the southwest slope of the mountain, beginning at sunset amphitheatre and draining into the south fork of the puyallup river. just south of this glacier is another called south tahoma glacier, which drains into tahoma creek, which in turn flows into the nisqually river at the southwestern corner of the park. the name is one of the forms of the word tacoma. stevens and van trump gave the name to what is now known as liberty cap at the summit. the name is also applied to a most prominent peak on the eastern slope of the mountain. see little tahoma. =tamanos mountain.= near the east-central boundary of the park. the name is apparently one way of spelling the chinook jargon word meaning "spirit." =tato falls.= on the southern slope, near the foot of nisqually glacier. the name was suggested by superintendent ethan allen. =tatoosh range.= near the south-central boundary of the park. the indian word is said to mean "nourishing breast." a stream from the mountains is called tatoosh creek. highest elevation, at unicorn peak, , feet above sea level. =tenas creek.= flowing from mount wow across the boundary in the southwest corner of the park. the name is from the chinook jargon meaning "little." =the burn.= near the southern boundary of the park. the name is too suggestive of a departed forest. =the castle.= a part of the tatoosh range, in the southern portion of the park. =the fan.= on the southeastern slope, just south of the lower part of cowlitz glacier. it is a lake whose name was suggested by its shape. =the palisades.= a ridge jutting northwestward from sourdough mountains, in the northeastern part of the park. =the ramparts.= see rampart ridge. =the wedge.= on the north slope of the mountain, between the winthrop and emmons glaciers. a large mass with steamboat prow at the upper or "sharpened" edge. named by prof. i. c. russell and his party in . =theosophy ridge.= see reese's camp. =tilicum point.= on the northwestern slope of the mountain, a part of ptarmigan ridge. the name is from the chinook jargon, meaning "friend." elevation, , feet above sea level. =tirzah peak.= a portion of chenuis mountain near the northwestern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =tokaloo rock.= on the western slope, at the lower end of puyallup cleaver. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =tolmie peak.= in the northwestern corner of the park. it is named in honor of dr. william fraser tolmie, the hudson's bay company surgeon, who was the first white man to approach the mountain. it was in that he climbed this peak. in , bailey willis wrote: "the point remained unvisited for fifty years; last summer i was able to identify it and named it tolmie peak." a near-by stream is called tolmie creek. elevation of the peak, , feet above sea level. =trixie falls.= on the southeastern slope, in cowlitz park. the name was suggested by superintendent ethan allen in honor of one of the daughters of former superintendent e. s. hall. =tumtum peak.= in the southwestern corner of the park, visible to all on the road to and from longmire. the name is from the chinook jargon, meaning "heart," and was suggested by the form of the mountain. elevation, , feet above sea level. =twin falls.= on the southeastern slope of the mountain, in the lower part of cowlitz park. =tyee peak.= a part of chenuis mountain in the northwestern portion of the park. the name is from the chinook jargon, meaning "chief." elevation, , feet above sea level. =unicorn peak.= where the tatoosh range approaches the south-central boundary of the park, this peak rises to a height of , feet. on its western flank is an ice field called unicorn glacier. =van horn creek.= on the northern slope, toward the boundary of the park. the name was suggested by thomas e. o'farrell, park ranger, in honor of rev. f. j. van horn, one of the mountaineers' party of . the beautiful falls in the creek received the same name. elevation of the falls, about , feet above sea level. =van trump glacier.= on the southern slope. it is named in honor of p. b. van trump who, with general hazard stevens, made the first ascent of the mountain in . the creek flowing from the glacier has the same name, and the flower-strewn region above the creek is called van trump park. elevation of the park, about , feet above sea level. =vernal park.= in the north-central portion of the park, just south of sluiskin mountain. =virginia peak.= near the northwestern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =wahpenayo peak.= between the tatoosh range and the south-central boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =wallace peak.= a portion of chenuis mountain near the northwestern boundary of the park. origin of name not ascertained. elevation, , feet above sea level. =wapowety cleaver.= on the southern slope, overlooking kautz glacier. mr. van trump says that wapowety was the indian guide of lieutenant a. v. kautz during his attempted ascent in . elevation, about , feet above sea level. =washington cascades.= on the southern slope of the mountain, in the paradise river above narada falls. =wauhaukaupauken falls.= on the east slope, in ohanapecosh park. this is one of the remarkable features of the mountain streams. the meaning and origin of the indian name have not been ascertained. =weer rock.= on the western slope. the name does not appear on the map, but it is said to have been agreed upon as an honor to j. h. weer, of tacoma, who has done extensive exploration work upon and around the mountain. he was leader of the mountaineers, in , when the first large party encircled the mountain at snow-line. =white river.= this river drains most of the glaciers on the northeastern slopes of the mountain. with a grand sweep around the mountain, the river flows through its valley to unite with the black river near seattle, becoming the duwamish river, which empties into puget sound at seattle harbor. its name came from the glacial character of the water. =white river park.= lying between sourdough mountains and sunrise ridge in the northeastern part of the park. =whitman glacier.= on the eastern slope of the mountain flowing from the side of little tahoma. the name is in honor of doctor marcus whitman, who gave his life as a missionary among the indians. he, his wife, and twelve others were murdered by the indians near walla walla in . the ridge of rocks east of the glacier is called whitman crest. =wigwam camp.= in indian henrys hunting ground, on the southwestern slope of the mountain. for several years a tent and log-cabin camp has been maintained here by george b. hall for the accommodation of visitors. elevation, , feet above sea level. =willis wall.= on the northern face of the mountain at the head of carbon glacier. the great vertical cliff, , feet high, over which avalanches of snow crash throughout the summer months, is one of the attractive features of the great mountain. it was named in honor of bailey willis, on account of his extensive explorations in . =williwakas glacier.= on the southeastern slope of the mountain, flowing from paradise glacier. the stream draining the glacier is known as williwakas creek. origin of name not ascertained. =wilson glacier.= on the southern slope, above nisqually glacier. it was named in honor of a. d. wilson, who, with s. f. emmons, made the second ascent of the mountain in . =windy gap.= in the northern portion of the park, between the ridges of chenuis and crescent mountains. =winthrop glacier.= on the northern slope, where its head joins that of emmons glacier. it is named in honor of theodore winthrop, who passed close by the mountain in and recorded his observations in his book entitled "the canoe and the saddle." the same name is given to a creek that drains this glacier into white river. the glacier was formerly mapped as white glacier. =wright creek.= a tributary of fryingpan creek, taking its rise near the cowlitz chimneys, on the eastern slope of the mountain. origin of name not ascertained. =yakima park.= on the northeastern slope, on the shoulders of sourdough mountains. the name is that of a tribe of indians living east of the cascade mountains. it has there been used as the name of a county and a city. =yellowstone cliffs.= in the northwestern portion of the park, at the southeastern end of chenuis mountain. printed in the united states of america. the following pages contain advertisements of books by the same author or on kindred subjects. _by the same author_ =vancouver's discovery of puget sound= by edmond s. meany _illustrated, vo, $ . _ a carefully edited and extra-illustrated reproduction of the edition of vancouver's "journal" of discoveries on the northwest coast. this is preceded by a life of the great navigator, and accounts of others who made explorations in that region. a large number of portrait-plates additional to the reproduction of those in the original journal, and several maps, embellish the work. "a remarkably interesting volume--the most valuable addition to american history that ever came out of the pacific northwest, if not indeed from the whole pacific coast."--_seattle daily times._ "a noteworthy addition to the subject of americana in its largest sense."--_review of reviews._ "an excellent specimen of the best historical work, written with fairness and impartiality."--_san francisco chronicle._ _by the same author_ =united states history for schools= by edmond s. meany _cloth, mo, $ . _ a complete and well-balanced treatment of united states history. industrial and social changes, rather than the traditional grouping of topics on changes of administration, etc., have determined the division of the subject into periods and of the periods into chapters. the space devoted to wars has been reduced to the minimum and more space has been given to the record of the nation's political, industrial, and social progress, emphasizing the advancement of the united states within the last fifty years. it presents american history as a part of world history. the treatment covers all the important points required by the committee of eight in its report to the american historical association. the style is vivid and interesting; the sentences are short and vigorous and the paragraphs are topical units. the book abounds in illuminating "side lights" always interesting and relevant. suggestions for collateral study and reading are provided and study questions are given at the close of each chapter. _by the same author_ =a history of the state of washington= by edmond s. meany _illustrated, decorated cloth, vo, $ . _ _school edition. ill., mo, $ . _ an interesting and valuable work on the growth and development of the state of washington, especially timely on account of the present exposition. it is not, however, an account of the isolated growth of one state, but in a great measure the history of the whole pacific slope. "it would be difficult to exaggerate the interest and charm of these vivid pages, written, as they were, under the spell and inspiration of a new world."--_literary digest._ _by william herbert hobbs_ professor of geology, university of michigan =earth features and their meaning= =a textbook for cultural courses on general geology= _profusely illustrated, vo, $ . _ "the purpose of 'earth features and their meaning,' by professor w. h. hobbs, is primarily to furnish a readable work on miscellaneous topics of modern geology and physical geography. in his preface the author lays stress on the fact that the book is a series of readings to stimulate the traveler to appreciate the landscape wherever he may go. a special emphasis is laid upon earthquakes, volcanoes, the work of water, desert processes, and glaciers.... "the book is noteworthy for the importance given to the experimental method in geology, for good reading references at the end of each chapter, for an unusually good analysis of weathering and the surface processes of dry regions, such as dune accumulations in the deserts, and for original treatment of glaciation."--_nation._ "the subject matter is presented in such an interesting and intelligent manner that the general reader and student will receive from its study such an understanding of the subject that he will be able, in his travels, to recognize many of the earth's features about which he has read. the landscapes which are represented are very largely those which are along the routes of travel. much stress has been placed on the dependence of the chief geological processes of a region, upon the general climatic conditions there existing.... "this is a book which should be possessed by every teacher of earth science and geology, whether in secondary school or college. it deserves and doubtless will have a large circulation."--_school science and mathematics._ "the book is an excellent reference volume for students who are interested in a simple outline of geology. the volume has been tested in class work and should prove its worth."--_bulletin of american geographical society._ =characteristics of existing glaciers= _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . _ "every geographer and geologist interested in ice will appreciate these clear descriptions and excellent illustrations of the earth's great glaciers--they make up into a most presentable book."--_nature._ the macmillan company publishers - fifth avenue new york * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious typographical errors were corrected. hyphenation variants present in the original were retained. author/subject illustrations have been re-positioned to the beginning of chapters to which they pertain. company information at bottom of each ad page was reduced to one placement at the end of the ads. the pine cone stories by willis boyd allen volumes, mo, cloth, $ . each pine cones the northern cross cloud and cliff silver rags kelp gulf and glacier d. lothrop company, - washington street, boston [illustration: on he came, crashing through the boughs. _page ._] gulf and glacier or _the percivals in alaska_ by willis boyd allen author of the "lion city of africa," "pine cones," "silver rags," "the northern cross," "kelp," "cloud and cliff," "john brownlow's folks," etc., etc. boston d. lothrop company washington street opposite bromfield copyright, , by d. lothrop company. to the little captain contents. chapter i. northward bound chapter ii. forest and prairie chapter iii. a home letter chapter iv. the glacier and the bear chapter v. a king's daughter in a freight car chapter vi. victoria and "the queen" chapter vii. solomon baranov chapter viii. alive or dead? chapter ix. the silver-tip chapter x. on the muir glacier chapter xi. fair sitka chapter xii. the "chichagoff decade" chapter xiii. homeward bound chapter xiv. wonderland chapter xv. white lilies chapter xvi. conclusion gulf and glacier. chapter i. northern bound. "all aboard!" it was a bright july morning, and its gladness was reflected in the faces of the throng that hurried to and fro, like an army of particularly busy ants, in the boston and lowell depot. way trains puffed in and out, discharging their loads of out-of-town people, who poured through the doorway in an almost continuous stream, carrying baskets of lunch, bunches of pond lilies and the small parcels that tell of every-day trips to the city. on the opposite side of the station stood a canadian pacific train. the massive trucks and heavy english build of the tawny cars distinguished them from the stock required for local traffic. this was the train which was to take a hundred or more passengers, without change, across the broad american continent. from the windows of those very cars, the travelers were to look out upon the rolling western prairies, the ravines and snowy summits of the rocky mountains, and at last, the blue waters of the pacific. no wonder the people on this side of the station, those departing, as well as those to be left behind, wore a more serious and anxious look upon their faces than the light-hearted suburbans who chatted gaily on their brief daily trip of a dozen miles. how curiously the hundred tourists looked into one another's eyes? "will he prove a delightful companion, i wonder?" they said to themselves. "is she to be a life-long friend, dating from this moment when our paths meet for the first time?" "all aboard!" shouts the conductor again. it has been well said that a railway station is a fit emblem of human life, with its brief merriment and grief, its greetings and good-bys, its clamor of coming and going. be this as it may, it is probable that of the half a thousand people in the lowell depot that morning, but few abandoned themselves to moral reflections. certainly tom percival was not occupied with philosophical meditation, as he stood on the lowest step of the car "kamloops," looking out eagerly over the crowd that surged to and fro on the platform beside the train. "halloo, ran!" he shouted suddenly, waving his hat and beckoning to a young man of about his own age, who was making his way toward the car, valise in hand. "all right, tom," responded the other. "come along, fred," he added to a companion at his side. "here's the 'old cabin home' for the next week or so, i suppose." the three young fellows--or boys, as it is easier to call them, once for all--shook hands all round, and then, standing on the car platform, turned to the crowd again as the train started and slowly moved out of the station. "good-by! good-by!" "be sure to write!" "bring me a totem pole from alaska!" "hurrah! hurrah!" and amid a medley of shouts and frantic wavings of handkerchiefs the long train rumbled away, northward bound. randolph burton made his way into the car, followed by his cousin tom and their chum fred seacomb. randolph had just passed his sophomore examination successfully at harvard, while tom was rejoicing over his admission to the freshman class, with only one condition. fred was a pupil in a scientific school at philadelphia. he was as dignified and scrupulously neat as ever, and his eyeglasses twinkled as of old. "where are the girls?" inquired randolph, turning to tom. the car was filled with passengers, all talking at once, and besieging the porter with questions. "in our 'drawing-room,' at the other end of the car," replied tom. "you know father and mother have a jolly little room all to themselves, but we shall use it as headquarters, the whole way to vancouver." "thomas alludes to vancouver as if it were east somerville or braintree," remarked fred, eying that young man calmly. "how many times did you say you had crossed the continent?" "don't you concern yourself about me," rejoined tom. "if you'd ground up on this trip as i have, perhaps you'd feel on familiar terms with assiniboia and saskatchewan and"-- "oh! here he comes, talking indian as usual," interrupted a merry voice. "randolph and fred are with him." "glad to see you, miss sibley!" said fred, with his most elegant bow. "oh! please," laughed the sunny-haired girl, "i'm going to be just 'pet' on this trip, any way. i sha'n't be seventeen till november, you know." the boys seemed relieved at this declaration, and, perching on the arms of the car seats, entered into lively conversation with pet, as well as tom's sisters, kittie and bess. the whole party, it may now be explained, had started on a journey to alaska. the young people had worked hard at their studies during the winter, and mr. percival, being a man of ample means, as well as of good sense and thoroughly kind heart, had included in his invitation pet sibley and fred seacomb, both of whom are familiar to the readers of the earlier volumes of this series. they had been undecided where to go for the summer, when a friend of mrs. percival's told her of this grand "excursion," which was to take its patrons from sea to sea, up the coast of alaska, and back by way of yellowstone park, all within the space of seven weeks. careful inquiries satisfied mr. percival and his wife that this was just the trip they were looking for; places were secured, and the start was now fairly made, as we have seen. "well, boys," remarked mr. percival, coming up at this moment, "have you found your berths yet?" "not yet, father," said tom, throwing his arm lovingly over the man's broad shoulder. they were very near to each other, these two, and the companionship of this long journey was destined to bring them together more closely than ever before. "randolph, you and tom are next to our drawing-room, on the 'starboard' side. fred comes next, taking the upper berth at night. some gentlemen in the party will probably occupy the lower one. kittie and bess are directly opposite, and miss pet will come next." "how nice! then we're all together, right in this end of the car!" "o, dear! i wish we had bert and sue martin with us this year!" lamented kittie. "they would just fill those two odd berths, one on each side." "can't have 'em, kit," replied her brother. "the whole family have gone out to portland, oregon, with their married sister. you know she and her husband are going to live there, where he is in business, and that left bert and sue here with only their grandmother." "we pass through portland, i believe," added mr. percival, "on our return trip. we'll drop in on them if we can, for a short call." by this time the train was running at full speed, and the young people began to explore their surroundings. the country through which they were passing was so familiar that they found more objects of interest within the car than without. there were a dozen other passengers in the "kamloops," all chattering briskly and settling themselves into the cosey quarters they were to call home for the next ten days. fred seacomb, as usual, began making acquaintances at once. before they reached lowell he had raised an obstinate window for one of his nearest neighbors, had found a missing pair of spectacles for a sweet-faced old lady not far away, and had pointed out various objects of interest (though he knew less of them than any other member of his party) to a bashful boy and girl of about ten and twelve respectively, in the front seats. people began to glance to the percival end of the car, and their faces relaxed into genial smiles as tom struck up "annie rooney," the rest chiming in melodiously. before long their company was increased by the two occupants of the vacant berths. they introduced themselves as rev. rossiter selborne and his sister, miss adelaide selborne. the young clergyman could not have been over thirty; his sister, a tall, pale, timid girl, was apparently of about kittie's age. the new-comers were evidently painfully conscious of the questioning glances with which they were greeted, and were anxious not to intrude; adelaide, in particular, looking very shy and almost ready to cry when she saw what a large party she and her brother had unintentionally joined, and how thoroughly the others all knew one another. mrs. percival soon broke the ice, however, by inviting mr. selborne and his sister into her drawing-room for a call, and in another fifteen minutes they were swept into the current of song. the young minister proved to have a fine baritone voice, and his sister soon won popularity by remembering second verses which everybody else had forgotten. "weirs! weirs!" shouted the conductor. and out flew the young folks to the platform, only to be hustled back again, barely in time to miss being left behind. the train was special, and took no passengers beyond the favored hundred who constituted the excursion. the shores of fair winnepesaukee were soon left behind, and the train drew up at the pemigewasset house, in plymouth. up the long flight of steps they scrambled, "tom leading the way, as usual," remarked dignified fred, peering through his eyeglasses at the other's heels, far in advance. down again to the train--how familiar and home-like the old "kamloops" looks, already! "all aboard!" hurrah! off we go again! singing once more--this time the "soldier's farewell"; tom striking it a third too high, and going all to pieces on the second "farewell"--on and on and on, faster and faster and faster, up the beautiful passumpsic valley, along the shores of memphremagog. "look!" cries bess. "there's a shower on the hills!" the clouds hang, black and sullen, along the mountain-tops. dash! comes the rain in long exclamation points all over the window-panes. a glittering flash of lightning, trees bowing in the wind, rain pouring in torrents. suddenly a brilliant light strikes again through the windows, resting on pet's golden hair--not lightning this time, but the blessed sunshine, in long, slanting rays from the west. even the boys catch their breath with delight and something like awe as they see the clouds rolling away over the mountains. at about sunset, the principal "conductor" of the excursion, whom we will call mr. houghton--a jolly, good-natured gentleman, who won first the confidence and then the regard of his hundred charges, at the very outset--came through the car announcing that at about half-past eight they would be in montreal, where the train would wait for them forty-eight hours, the next day being sunday. in due time the cars thundered over the long steel bridge between caughnawaga and lachine, the lights of montreal twinkled out of the darkness, and our friends were soon on their way to the windsor, where they were to spend the next two days. sunday was as fair as the most exacting traveler could wish. the large party scattered during the forenoon, most of them going to church. randolph and tom, with the girls, left the hotel early and walked for a mile or more through the streets of the city. there were many french inhabitants, as the shop signs showed. in a little common, they saw the sign, "_n'allez pas sur le gazon_"--a polite way of putting our familiar "keep off the grass." the names of the streets carried them back to old times, when the whole province was held by france--"_ste. monique_," "_ste. genevieve_," etc. funny little milk carts went bobbing along over the rough pavements, and funny little babies toddled along the uneven board sidewalks. their walk soon brought them to a lofty granite building with two square towers--the cathedral of notre dame. people were flocking in at the doors, and the young americans went with them. it was like entering a great, dimly-lighted cavern. all the walls and pillars and ceiling were glowing with soft, dark crimson and golden colors. the church was crowded with worshipers, not only on the main floor, but in two immense galleries, one above the other. at the further end was the high altar and the figure of the crucified saviour, beneath which the priests were conducting the service of the roman catholic church. one could just hear their deep voices, mingling with the music of the choir and organ. in front of the travelers was a swarthy indian, with long, glossy black hair. little children knelt on the marble pavement in the midst of the crowd. members of wealthy french families passed down the aisle to their pews. all around were poor people, many of them following the service with their prayer-books. leaving notre dame, the percivals turned their steps to st. george's church near the hotel, where there was an episcopal service, and a good sermon by a bluff, hearty scotchman, one of whose phrases clung to tom's memory for many a day. "if you know of anything you ought to do," said the good rector, "don't sit down and think about it, but do ut!" "'do ut!'" repeated tom to himself as he left the church with the rest. "that's a good motto for me, any way. 'do ut!'" a quiet drive around mount royal--giving them a glorious view of montreal--filled the afternoon. as they looked down on the multitude of roofs and steeps, mr. percival reminded them that it was the chief city of canada, with a population about half as large as that of boston. in it was a little indian village called hochelaga, which was in that year visited by jacques cartier. two hundred and fifty years ago, the french established a trading-post here, and its business has grown, until to-day its docks are lined with warehouses, its river front shows the black hulls of great ocean steamers, and railroads converge from east, west and south. we will close this first chapter with an extract from kittie's letter to susie martin, written late monday afternoon. montreal, _july , --_. dear sue: bess has written you about our starting away from boston day before yesterday, and the splendid ride we had, and the showers, and everything. we are getting to like that quiet mr. selborne a good deal. his sister is dreadfully afraid of everything, and keeps saying, "o, ross!" whenever he does anything out of the primmest kind of behavior. i guess we girls shock her awfully; but perhaps she needs electricity treatment; she isn't strong, you know, poor thing. this afternoon we all went out to lachine in a queer little train of cars, and then went on board a big steamer for the return trip down the river. such a scramble for good places! it was really wonderful, dear, going down those rapids. you felt the great ship settle under your feet, and once we headed so straight for a rock in the middle of the river that i said "ow!" right out loud. the other passengers didn't laugh much, either, and even tom, poor fellow, really looked white. well, we have repacked our trunks which we sha'n't open again until we reach some sort of a queer place called banff, next saturday. we go on board our train again at half-past seven. bess and i are expecting lots of fun in our compartment. i do hope we shall see you in portland.... affectionately, kittie m. percival. chapter ii. forest and prairie. it was a merry party that assembled in the windsor station, monday evening. no sooner had they found their places in the "kamloops" than out they jumped again, and began promenading up and down the long platform. "let's see what the names of the other cars are," said fred; and bess, thereupon, called them out, as they walked beside the train: "'calgary,' 'nepigon,' 'toronto,' 'missanabie.'" "what do they mean?" inquired kittie. "why, they're names of alaskan chieftains," replied randolph. "'kamloops' was the old head one, then," added tom. but mr. houghton, who was everywhere at once, superintending the embarkation, caught the words and explained that the names were those of cities and towns on the line of the canadian pacific. "all aboard!" came the now familiar call, and away went the train, out into the night, bound for the far west. the percivals and their neighbors sang for a while, adding several new college songs to their previous répertoire, and then the head of the family announced that it was time to retire. the porter, william, had already arranged the drawing-room, and amid a chorus of "good-nights," mr. and mrs. percival withdrew. "now, william," said randolph, "make up number three and five for the ladies." "and four, for the gentlemen," added the irrepressible tom. kittie and bess soon disappeared behind their curtains, and the rest having followed suit shortly afterward, there was silence--for about three minutes. then came the sound of a bump, and a delighted chuckle from tom, in the upper berth. "coming right up through, ran?" the girls heard him ask. "i thought the train was off the track." "you laugh much more, and i'll get up there, somehow"-- "boys, boys," came fred seacomb's voice. "don't quarrel." "say, fred" (from tom), "lend me your eyeglasses, will you? i've lost my pillow." at this point miss adelaide became fearfully thirsty, and putting her head out between her curtains, timidly called across to her brother to "please get her a drink of water." the reverend rossiter, who was just settling himself for a nap, dressed again, and staggered off down the car, returning with the welcome draught. "anybody else want any?" he asked good-naturedly. everybody was thirsty, and the clergyman's ministrations with his cups of cold water did not cease until he had made several journeys to the ice tank. during the night the heavy train rumbled steadily along over two hundred and fifty miles of iron rails, and when randolph awoke next morning, he found they were at chalk river, a small town on the frontiers of the great forest wilderness of inner canada, where a fifteen-minute stop was made. breakfast was served in the dining-car. our friends secured seats close together, and made a jolly meal of it. "curious," observed fred, "to eat a breakfast twenty miles long!" "that suits me!" laughed tom, helping himself to griddle cakes. "but it's so pretty outside that i can't stop to eat," exclaimed adelaide, with a nice little flush in her cheeks. she had lived a very quiet, home-keeping life, the girls found. everything was new and strange and wonderful to her. "i should say somebody had been pretty careless with their camp-fires," randolph remarked, as they passed mile after mile of burned timber land, an hour or two later. mr. houghton told them that thousands upon thousands of acres of forest near the railroad had been ruined in this way. "why," asked randolph, "how long has this railroad been built?" mr. houghton thereupon gave them a brief account of the canadian pacific, one of the marvels of modern engineering. "a railway from canada to the pacific," he said, "laid all the way on british soil, was long the dream of public-spirited canadians and englishmen. on the confederation of the british provinces in , it became a real necessity." "i don't see why," put in tom. "the queen must have a means of transporting troops, arms and ammunition from the home stores to the extremities of her dominion. suppose her pacific cities, existing and to be built, should be attacked by a foreign power. she can now throw fifty thousand men across the continent in four days; or in less than a fortnight from liverpool." "i should think it must have been a tough job to get through this wilderness," said randolph, glancing out of the window at the wild district through which they were passing. "much of the route lay through unexplored country. all about lake superior the engineers found a vast rocky region which opposed them at every step. you'll see for yourselves to-morrow. beyond red river for a thousand miles stretched a great plain, known only to the indian and fur trader; then came the mountains, range after range, in close succession, and all unexplored." "when did they really get to work?" asked fred seacomb. "in . the government undertook the enterprise, and afterward handed it over for completion, to a private company. the explorations"-- at this point in the conductor's story, the train began to slow up. "ah!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat and glancing at his watch, "this is north bay, on lake nipissing. we stop here half an hour." "come on!" shouted tom, as the train came to a standstill, and down he rushed toward the shore of the lake, only a few rods distant. "now, captain bess, let's see what you can do for a fire. i'll have one going before you get your match lighted." bessie evidently accepted the challenge on the spot, for although she said nothing, she began hunting about for kindling at once. there had been a light shower the night before, and every thing was damp. tom made a great fuss, scrambling about for chips and twigs, which he threw down in a heap on the pebbly beach, kneeling beside them, and hastily pulling a match from his pocket. it looked as though his sister was beaten. "just wait a bit," remarked mr. percival, who was watching the contest with interest. several passengers from the other cars also gathered about the fire-builders, applauding each in turn. tom's first match spluttered, and went out. "ho! she's given up," he cried, as bess walked away from the group. but the girl knew what she was about. she stooped down beside a large log which had long ago drifted ashore. from its upper surface she stripped some thin shreds of birch bark, and beneath it she found a handful of chips, perfectly dry. back she came, and down she went on the pebbles, at a little distance from her brother. "hurry up, tom!" shouted randolph. for tom's fire did not seem to progress favorably. several matches had already been blown out by the fresh lake breeze, and the few twigs that had at last caught, now smoked feebly. "this is the meanest wood!" labored tom. "wet's water." and he essayed another match. all this time bessie had worked industriously, saying nothing. she had broken and whittled her chips into small pieces, and now pulled off her pretty yachting cap, holding it closely over the bark while she struck her first match. protected by her dress, and gathering courage in the shelter of the cap, it flared up cheerfully, catching the crisp edges of the bark in grand style. down goes the cap, the girl's brown hair escaping in little curly tresses that toss in the wind. "i've almost got it!" shouts tom, blowing at his smoking heap with all his might. "go in, old fellow!" "hurry, bess!" the passengers added their cheers and laughter to the cries of the others. "there!" said bess triumphantly, leaning back from her fire. for fire it was, truly, with the red flames dancing upward gleefully through the twigs, and cracking in a manner that said plainly they had come to stay. tom generously joined in the applause that followed, and heaped all his hoarded fuel on his sister's fire, nearly extinguishing it in his zeal. "camp birch!" said mr. percival, naming it, as they named all their camp-fires. a few minutes later the coals were scattered, for safety; and the engine giving its preconcerted call, the passengers hurried on board once more. "now," said selborne, "let's hear the rest of the railroad story, mr. houghton." the latter gentleman, by no means averse to the task, accordingly continued. "the surveys for the road made known the character of the country it had to traverse. in the wilderness about superior, were found forests of pine and other timber, together with valuable farming land, and mineral deposits of immense value. the prairies beyond winnipeg proved wonderfully promising for settlers; the mountains were seamed with coal, and sparkling with gold." mr. houghton's face became even more radiant than usual, as he told of the wonderful riches of british columbia. "in the company contracted with the government to finish the road within ten years--for which undertaking they received twenty-five million dollars, twenty-five million acres of agricultural land, and the railroad itself when complete." "whew!" whistled tom. "say, ran, let's go to railroading." "the end of the third year," continued the genial conductor, "found them at the summit of the rocky mountains; the fourth in the selkirks, a thousand miles beyond winnipeg. sometimes they advanced five or six miles a day, armies of men attacking the mountains with thousands of tons of dynamite. on a certain wet morning--the seventh of november, --the last spike was driven on the main line of the canadian pacific railway." mr. houghton's eloquent peroration was followed by a round of applause, and all hands turned to the car windows once more, with new interest in this great triumph of mind over the forces of nature. the boys were informed by mr. houghton in conclusion, that the country all around the lake was one of the greatest hunting districts on the continent. the forest abounded, he said, in moose, bear and caribou--all of which was extremely tantalizing to these young gentlemen, though the gentler members of the party took little interest in the conductor's description of the sport. we must pass rapidly over the next day or two. soon after breakfast on wednesday morning, our travelers found themselves on the shores of lake superior, and all day the train kept close beside it, the road curving, rising, descending, around great promontories of red rock, at the base of high cliffs, and across broad tributaries that came sweeping down from far northern wastes. at times there was a heavy fog, through which the passengers could see the slow waves breaking on the rocks below. then it would lift, showing new beauties close at hand, and bright, wooded islands in the misty distance. beside the track grew strange flowers, and against the northern sky was outlined the notched edge of the boundless evergreen forest that stretched away to the arctic solitudes. at the little settlement of peninsula, selborne called the rest to see a fine, sturdy dog with the esquimaux showing plainly in his pointed nose and ears, and thick soft fur. "doesn't he look like the pictures in dr. kane?" whispered pet, leaning over kittie's shoulder. jackfish proved to be a picturesque hamlet of log huts, clustering on a rocky point of land that jutted into the lake. the train stopped at schreiber long enough to allow the party to dash up into the town, and make a laughable variety of purchases at the principal store. postal cards, buttons, candy and fancy pins disappeared in the pockets of the tourists, to the delight of the proprietor, who had not had such a run of custom for many a long day. captain bess bought several yards of the brightest scarlet ribbon she could find--for what purpose it will be seen hereafter. near the station at nepigon was seen the first encampment of indians--chippewas they were; half-amused, half-indignant at the curious crowd they attracted. port arthur was the terminus of the eastern division of the "c. p. r.," a thousand miles from montreal, and watches were all set back one hour to meet "central time." little girls crowded up to the passengers, selling milk in broken mugs, from small pails with which they darted hither and thither along the platform. i should hardly venture to say how many mugfuls the boys bought and drank, in the kindness of their hearts. that evening a number of new friends from the "missanabie" and "calgary" came back to the "kamloops," by special invitation, and the united chorus sang over and over all the songs they did--and did not--know. "little annie rooney," then a reigning favorite in the east, was the most popular number in the programme. i wish i could show the gay little party to you, as i see them now, photographed so clearly upon my memory: the older people in the rear, looking on with smiles, and occasionally joining in a familiar chorus; kittie and pet, their faces all aglow; randolph, fred and mr. selborne singing sturdily along, or pausing when they did not know the tune; tom, singing at the top of his voice, whether he knew the tune or not, and beating time with a vigor that would have put carl zerrahn to shame--ah! how it all comes before me as i write; with one dear, kindly face that was merry and thoughtful by turns, but always tender and loving and good, as the songs rang out; the face i shall see no more until i reach the end of the longest journey of all--the journey of life! at breakfast on the following morning, tom, who had taken upon himself to provide the girls with nosegays on the whole trip, marched into the dining-car with a neat little breast-knot of "squirrel-tail grass" which he had picked at rat portage, for each young lady. it was very pretty, but before long the objectionable feature of the grass asserted itself; that is, its clinging qualities, which made it impossible for the wearers to wholly rid themselves of the tiny barbed spires for two days afterward. winnipeg was reached at noon. nearly all the passengers "went ashore," and the empty cars were trundled away for a thorough cleaning, english fashion. in twos and threes our friends wandered off through this strange young city, the capital of manitoba. twenty years ago its population numbered one hundred; now it passes thirty thousand! in the midst of all the progress and modern ideas of bustling winnipeg, it was curious to notice many rude carts drawn by oxen, which were harnessed like horses. at the station the "newsboys" were little girls, who plied their trade modestly and successfully. mr. percival took his daughters and pet to drive for an hour through the city and its suburbs. the only drawback to their enjoyment was the intense heat, and the abundance of grasshoppers who would get tangled up in bessie's hair, much to that young lady's displeasure. "clouds and clouds of them," she commented indignantly; "and the winnipeggers don't seem to mind them a bit!" next morning tom was the first "on deck," as usual, and out of the cars at the first stop, which was made to water the engine. prairie, prairie, prairie, as far as the eye could reach. tom gathered handfuls of flowers and threw them into expectant laps, only to rush out again and gather more. the short grass was starred with blossoms of every color. harebells, like those on mt. willard, grew in abundance beside the track. then there were queer, scarlet "painted cups," nodding yellow ox-eyes, asters, dandelions, and others. what is that little creature, that looks something like a very large gray squirrel with no tail? why, a "gopher," to be sure; an animal resembling a prairie-dog, only smaller. they live in burrows all along these sandy embankments. see that little fellow! he sits up on his hind legs and hops along like a diminutive kangaroo, pulling down heads of grass with his tiny forepaws, and nibbling the seeds. on and on, over the rolling prairie, rattled the hot, dusty train. they were in indian country now, and at every station a dozen or more dark-faced crees crouched on the platform, offering buffalo horns for sale. and this reminds me that i have not mentioned one very important portion of tom's outfit. it was a fine no. kodak, of which he was very proud, and which he "snapped" mercilessly at all sorts of persons and things on the journey. there were other amateur photographers on the excursion--a dozen or more in all--and great was the good-natured rivalry in securing good views. indians were bribed, soldiers flattered and precipices scaled in this fascinating pursuit. as to the hundred travelers, the photographers snapped at them and one another with hardly an apology; and as the subject usually looked up and smiled broadly at the critical moment, the general result must have been a collection of portraits of the most marvelously and uniformly merry company that ever boarded a c. p. r. train, or kodaked a siwash canoe. each wielder of this terrible weapon had a different way of holding the camera and doing the deed. mr. selborne focused from under his right arm, that embraced the instrument firmly. pet, who had a little no. , always winked hard, and occasionally jumped when she "pressed the button"; thereby, as she afterward discovered, giving her characters a peculiar misty effect, which she declared was enchanting. one indefatigable lady from kalamazoo invariably held her kodak out in front of her at arms-length, and took aim over the top of it before firing; a proceeding which never failed to disconcert and terrify the subject beyond description. at a settlement called swift current, tom undertook to photograph an old cree squaw, who stalked away indignantly around the corner of the freight house. away went crafty thomas in the opposite direction, meeting the squaw just half-way around the building. tom tried to purchase a sitting with a silver quarter, but the wrathful indian woman poured out a torrent of cree invective, and hooked at him with a pair of buffalo horns she held in her hands. finally, he turned his back to her, and holding the camera backward under his arm, pressed the button and so obtained one of his best negatives on the trip. it must be confessed that he felt rather shabby in thus procuring her portrait against her will; and to atone for his conduct, bessie knelt beside two little indian girls and tied bright red ribbons on their arms, to their intense delight. at moose-jaw (which mr. houghton said was an abridgment of the indian name meaning, "the-creek-where-the-white-man-mended-the-cart-with-a-moose's-jaw-bone"), the travelers were shown a villainous-looking sioux, who was one of sitting bull's band that massacred general custer and his troops a few years before. the indians in that whole section of canada are kept in order by mounted police--fine-looking fellows, sauntering about the station platforms with whip and spur, and by no means averse to having their pictures taken, pet found. all this is very pleasant, but as the day wears on, the green hills and flowery meadow-land give place to scorched, parching, alkali desert, stretching away in dry, tawny billows as far as the eye can reach. here and there is a lake--no, a pool of dry salt, like the white ghost of a lake. the air in the cars becomes insufferably hot. look at the thermometer, where the sun does not shine, and the air blows in through the open window. it marks full °. mr. selborne wins popularity by contracting for a large pitcher of iced lemonade, which he passes through the car. dust and cinders pour in at doors and windows with the hot air. waves of heat rise from the shriveled grass. will night ever come? yes, it comes at last, as god's good gifts always come, to refresh and sweeten our lives. the sky flushes with sunset light. shadows creep up from the east; a cool breeze touches the fevered faces. night, beautiful, restful, kindly night, spreads its wings over the weary travelers, and, still flying onward through the darkness, they sleep peacefully and dream of the dear new england hills and of home. chapter iii. a home letter. banff, _july , --_. dear mother: i know you will want to hear from your children as often as possible, so i write to-day, for both adelaide and myself, to tell you of our wanderings, and of the wonderful scenes in the midst of which we are resting this bright sunday. in my last letter mailed at brandon, i told you about the railroad ride from montreal, north of the great lakes, through the country where the jesuit missionaries labored so nobly two centuries ago, and across the green prairies and scorched alkali desert of manitoba. on the morning after that terribly hot day, we looked westward--and our journey seemed likely to come to an end then and there. a mighty barrier stretched across our path from north to south. rising dimly, through the morning mists, their summits hidden among the clouds, their tawny flanks scarred with ravines and whitened with snow, rose the rocky mountains. soon the train stopped, and we were told of a cascade in the woods near by, bearing the indian name of kananaskis. off we tramped across a bit of flowery upland, snatching handfuls of aster, painted cup and harebell as we went; then down through a thicket of blue-tipped firs, until we heard the voice of many waters calling softly to us. another moment and we stood on the brink of the foaming, dashing, sparkling cataract, pouring grandly down its rocky path, as it had done in the days of paul and barnabas of joshua; yes, and of ahasuerus the king. at the very moment when queen esther, the "star," stood before the haughty monarch pleading for her people, the stars above shone above the white falls of kananaskis as they do to-night; the rushing waters lifted up their voice and hastened to their work in the lonely forest; while the father of all looked down on the silent firs, the silver stream, and the proud walls of shushan, patient and loving, waiting for his children to know him and his wonderful works, and to love and serve him with gladness of heart. oh, the mountains! how we climbed and climbed, the train winding, and roaring, and straining every iron nerve to bear us to the high places! at noon we were in the midst of them. they looked down upon us with kindly faces, yet their granite peaks were awful in their grandeur, uplifted thousands upon thousands of feet above us. i wandered with a bright young girl in our party, miss bessie percival, whom the boys call "captain bess," down a steep path to the river's brink. beneath a sheltering fir which stretched its tiny crosses above our heads, we stopped, and with a tiny, crackling fire beside us, watched the snowy heights, and the hastening river. the harebells, frailest and gentlest of flowers, were there too, to remind us that the same hand which which-- "set on high the firmament, planets on their courses guided, alps from alps asunder rent," was his who said to the storm, "peace, be still!"--who "considered the lilies," and who took little children in his arms and blessed them. the waters of the large river which ran past us were turbid with soil from their far-off source; but a small stream entered the larger one near our little fir-shaded hearthstone, and this new-comer was fresh from the snowy hill-tops, "clear as crystal." as far down as we could see, the rivulet never lost its brightness, but swept onward with the larger stream, sweetening and purifying it, yet "unspotted," like a true and simple life in god's world. there, i won't tire you any more to-night, dear mother. how it would add to our pleasure if you were here! adelaide gains strength every day, the wholesome, hearty companionship of these young people doing her quite as much good, i think, as the novelty and grandeur of the scenes in which she finds herself. as for me, i ought to preach better sermons all my life, for this trip. this afternoon while i was sitting on the rounded piazza of the hotel, looking out upon the valley and snowy mountain-tops, a bit of blank verse came into my mind. i'm going to write it out for you. a fellow can send his mother poetry (?) which he wouldn't show any one else, can't he? within thy holy temple have i strayed, e'en as a weary child, who from the heat and noonday glare hath timid refuge sought in some cathedral's vast and shadowy nave, and trembles, awestruck, crouching in his rags where high up reared a mighty pillar stands. mine eyes i lift unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. the murmuring firs stretch forth their myriad tiny crosses o'er my head; deep rolls an organ peal of thunder down the echoing vale, while clouds of incense float before the great white altar set on high. so lift my heart, o god! and purify its thought, that when i walk once more thy minister amid the hurrying throng, one ray of sunlight from these golden days, one jewel from the mountain's regal brow, one cup of water from these springs of life, as tokens of thy beauty, i may bear to little ones who toil and long for rest. affectionately, your son, rossiter. p. s. i wish you knew that little "captain bess." she is one of the freshest, sweetest, most unselfish girls i ever met. hardly an hour passes when she is not doing something for another's comfort--adjusting old ladies' shawls, reading aloud, holding a tired child, or something of the sort. in fact, she's the most like you, mother, of anybody i ever met! chapter iv. the glacier and the bear. thus far the trip had been free from special adventure beyond the ordinary happenings in the course of an extraordinary journey. but on the day following the departure from banff, one or two incidents occurred to break the monotony. in the first place, there was tom's affair with the bear. but i must retrace my steps slightly, before introducing bruin. the excursion left banff on the ninth morning from boston. the road now lay through a wilderness of mighty hills. onward and upward labored the train, following the curves of mountain streams, rattling in and out of tunnels, and creeping cautiously over high trestles that creaked ominously beneath the heavy cars. an observation car had been added, and here the percivals gathered, defying cinders and wintry air. far above the ravine through which the stubborn canadian pacific had pushed its way, they caught glimpses of snow-banks and glaciers, which sent foaming torrents down the mountain-side to join the kicking-horse river. late in the afternoon they whirled around the last dizzy curve, plunged into a snow-shed and out again, and halted for the night beside a picturesque little hotel in the very heart of the selkirks. most of the party, including all the percivals except tom, at once started along a forest path for new wonders that were said to lie beyond. adelaide selborne was too tired to go, and her brother, having seen her comfortably resting in a delightful little room in the hotel, hurried off to join the rest. bessie, who had lingered behind a moment to pick a handful of starry wild flowers, heard his steps and turned to greet him with a bright look of welcome. "i'm so glad you've come," she said, in her frank way. "you see, randolph has gone ahead with pet sibley, and kittie is with fred, so i was kind of rear-guard, all alone." "what kind of a flower is that?" he asked. bess did not know, nor did her companion. "it seems so strange to find real wild wild-flowers," she exclaimed. "the little home violets and mayflowers seem as tame as possible, compared." "this forest has never been cut into," observed rossiter, as they sauntered along the narrow path. the lofty trees, unscarred by axe or fire, towered high above them; beside the path waved tall ferns, starred here and there with boughs of the white blossoms the little captain had been picking. an unseen stream, hastening downward from far-away rocky heights, called softly through the dim aisles. after a mile or two of this thick wood, they emerged upon rough, open ground, over which they hurried, crossing a rude bridge which spanned the torrent, and--there was the great glacier of the selkirks! bessie caught her breath, in the wonder and grandeur of it. for in comparison with this mighty stream of ice, the glaciers of europe are but frozen rivulets. all the swiss glaciers combined would not reach the bulk of this monster, which covers thirty-eight square miles of mountain-side with a moving mass of ice five hundred feet thick. it is fitly guarded by the solitary peak of "sir donald," whose top is lost in clouds eight thousand feet above the valley. they moved forward at length, climbing to the edge of the glacier, and even mounting upon its wrinkled back. the advanced division of the party were already quite at home with the big glacier, and sang their gay songs as merrily as in the cosey "kamloops." fred and randolph caught tin cupfuls of water from an icy rill, and passed it to the rest. "i wish," said bessie, "that i could run up to that next corner. the view would be splendid." kittie and the rest were just starting downward. mr. selborne heard the captain's remark, and instantly was at her side. "come on," he said. "we can do it and catch up with the rest before they reach the hotel." bessie, remembering her experience on mount washington the year before, hesitated. but the opportunity was too tempting. "i'll go," she said hastily, "if you'll hurry, please. mother will worry about me if i stay up here too long." aided by a strong hand and arm, she clambered up over the bowlders which lay along the mountain slope in a confused mass. "there!" she exclaimed, in the same tone of triumph with which she had announced the success of her fire on the shores of nipissing, "we've done it, haven't we?" after all, it was hardly worth the climb, for the newly gained position only disclosed further reaches, each promising a better outlook than the next below. rossiter glanced at the gathering clouds. "perhaps we'd better start, miss bessie," he said, "if you've got your breath." if truth be told, bess would have liked a little longer rest; but she did not like to confess the fatigue she felt. besides, it was all down hill now, so she held out her hand to her companion without misgiving. before they had gone twenty yards, moving cautiously down from bowlder to bowlder close beside the ice, the air darkened and a fine rain set in. [illustration: she clambered up over the bowlders.] "that will hurry the rest along," thought bessie, "for they're already in the easy part of the path, and they can run." but she said nothing to distress her escort, who was already troubled enough by the prospect. "be careful!" he called suddenly, as he saw bessie spring over a mimic chasm, and barely miss losing her balance on the further side. "the rain makes these rocks slippery, and"-- he was interrupted by a cry from bess. she sank down on a bowlder and lifted a white face to him. "my ankle," she said. "i've turned it, and it hurts--dreadfully!" "let me help you, dear." he was used to calling his sister that, you know. bessie clung to his arm and tried to rise, but sank back with a sharp little moan of pain. "it's no use," she gasped. "i can't stand. you'll have--to go--and send somebody up--for me." she looked so white that he thought she was going to faint. but the little captain had no idea of giving way, if she could possibly help it. "go, please," she repeated, clutching the rough rim of the rock to control herself. rossiter looked around, above, below. not a living creature was in sight. it was no use to call for help, in that grim solitude. the rain drifted across the black forest in gray columns. "won't you leave me?" pleaded bessie again. for reply he stooped, and lifting her in his arms as if she were a child, began to pick his way downward, slowly and cautiously. at the end of half a dozen rods his breath was gone. he placed his burden gently on the rocks. "o, mr. selborne!" cried bess, with quivering lips, "it's hurting you worse than me. please"-- but he had rested enough, and just smiling for reply, started along the path once more. it was now raining heavily, and the traveled way became more and more difficult to distinguish in the gathering dusk. bessie was a strong, healthy young girl, and no light weight for a man to carry. the bridge was reached at last, and, narrow and slippery as it was, stretching above a deep and swift mountain stream, crossed in safety. in a few moments they were at the edge of the forest; but rossiter, little used in late years to active sports or athletic exertion of any kind, felt his strength leaving him. great beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, though the air was bitter cold and the rain like ice. he staggered and saved himself with difficulty from falling, with bessie in his arms. as he placed her on the ground at the mossy foot of a huge tree, he spoke to her, but she did not answer. this time she had fainted in earnest. * * * * * but it is time to return to the solitary representative of the percival family--or at least of the younger portion of it--who found more attraction at the base of the mountain than on its lofty and ice-clad slopes. mr. and mrs. percival had gone to the hotel at once, and were glad to rest there while the tireless young people "explored." the moment the train had stopped and the passengers began to pour out of the cars, tom had caught sight of an animal which by this time had become pretty familiar to the travelers; namely, a bear. at almost every station they had passed, since leaving winnipeg, was one or more of these furry friends in captivity. tom had made overtures to all of them, sometimes barely escaping a dangerous scratch or bite from the half-tamed animals. the boy was just now an ardent naturalist, in his impulsive way, and felt a great interest in every strange creature on four legs--especially bears. here was a good chance then, to cultivate bruin's acquaintance. while tom was providing himself with lumps of sugar at the hotel, his sisters and the rest of the party started up the forest path for the glacier, as we have seen. "feed the black bear all you want to, but don't fool with the cinnamon," called the clerk after heedless tom, who was already out of hearing. blackie was within a few rods of the hotel, and tom was soon having great fun with him, tossing him lumps of sugar, and then holding them up while the bear, who was only a half-grown cub, stood clumsily on his hind legs and, supporting himself against the boy's shoulders, stretched out his little gray snout for the coveted sweets. they were in the midst of their frolic when tom heard a chain rattle, up toward the woods. something was moving among the stumps--another bear. "good-by, pomp," shouted tom, letting his shaggy playmate down rather unceremoniously on all fours. "i must call on your cousin, over there." pomp gazed at him with what tom afterward declared was a most meaning look in his twinkling eyes, and galloped after him--only to be jerked sprawling at the end of his tether. then he sat down, after the manner of his kind, and watched the retreating form of the dispenser of sugar, shaking his head gloomily. "i'll save a lump for you and be back before long, old fellow," called tom encouragingly over his shoulder. the cinnamon proved to be double the size of his black neighbor. instead of ambling up to his visitor as the other had done, he retreated a pace or two, and eyed him with such an unpleasant expression that tom stopped short. "come, brownie," said he, in his most cajoling tones. "here's some sugar for you." and he tossed him a lump. cinnamon stretched out his paw, raked the lump nearer, and bolted it. the taste was pleasing, and he slowly advanced, dragging his heavy chain after him. "friendly enough," said tom to himself. "i'll try him with a lump in my hand." the bear took it rather too greedily for the comfort of the holder, but seemed in nowise inclined to hostile measures. "stand up!" bruin clumsily erected himself on his haunches, and caught the sugar tossed to him. tom was delighted. "now put your paws up on my shoulders and get it." he stood back to the animal and looked at him over his shoulder. up came cinnamon again, though rather sullenly, and reaching both paws around tom's neck from behind, clasped them on the boy's breast. "there, there!" cried tom; "that'll do, old fellow. you're too heavy for me. get down!" a low growl from a shaggy throat within three inches of tom's ear, was the only reply. tom held up his last lump of sugar, and while his unwelcome comrade-in-arms was crunching it, strove to wriggle himself from the bear's embrace. it was of no use. the big, furry necklace only clasped the more tightly, and the menacing growl came again deeper than before. the boy's courage began to fail him. he looked down at the two great paws on his chest, armed with long, sharp claws. the bear's breath came hot and fast on the back of his neck. "halloo! help!" shouted tom desperately. a savage snarl from the rear told him that a repetition of the cry might be fatal to him. the bear's patience began to give out. the growls came nearer together, and more angrily. every moment tom expected to feel those long, white teeth in his scalp. to make matters worse, he now seemed to remember the words the hotel man had shouted after him, though he had paid no attention to them at the time. if randolph and the rest would only come! it was not like a fight with a wild bear. that would be bad enough. but to be killed by a chained beast, as a result of his own folly! both hope and courage were at the lowest ebb, and the danger really very great, when tom's hand felt in the lining of his coat a hard bunch. cautiously, with trembling hands, he ripped out the lining and extracted--a solitary lump of sugar which had slipped down through a hole in his pocket. he held it out at arms-length. after a fruitless attempt to support himself with one paw and reach the sugar with the other, the bear relaxed his hold and dropped upon all fours. to fling down the sugar and dart out of the radius of that hard-trodden circle was the work of a moment. tom was safe! the bear sprang after him, his little eyes twinkling with rage; but the chain held fast, and his late captive left him sprawling among the stumps. i am not sure that tom would have told this story at all, had not randolph, one or two nights later, caught sight of ten red marks on his room-mate's breast. then it all came out, as you have it. during the struggle with bruin the sky had darkened, and it now began to rain heavily. chapter v. a king's daughter in a freight car. when randolph and his party came rushing with shouts of laughter from the woods, they were joined by tom, who was in an unusually meek mood. fred looked at him suspiciously, but forbore to ask any questions. the rain was coming down smartly, and all hands gathered, panting and laughing, around the generous fire in the little hotel office. "where's bessie?" asked mr. percival, as soon as he could make his voice heard above the merry clamor. "oh! she's just behind, with mr. selborne," said kittie. "randolph, look out of the door to see if they are in sight." "they'll get dreadfully wet," remarked pet. "why didn't they keep up?" "oh! bess wanted to go up the glacier a little farther. i saw her pointing to a big rock"-- "and of course he went," added fred demurely. mr. percival looked worried. his nephew reported that the missing couple were not in sight. "it's growing darker every moment," he remarked anxiously. "i must go and look for them." two strong young fellows who were employed about the hotel went with him. leaving the jolly group around the fire, we will accompany the relief party. those who prefer cosiness and warmth may stay behind! the contrast was sharp, indeed, as mr. percival stepped out-of-doors with his two companions. the sky was filled with black clouds, that rolled down the valley or hung in threatening masses along the lofty mountain slopes. as they entered the forest they had to step carefully, lest they should stumble on some root or stone, half-hidden in the darkness. through the boughs of the trees the rain dripped drearily. they plodded on for over a mile, when they caught sight of a flickering light, appearing and vanishing, like a will-o'-the-wisp. the two men from the hotel did not know what to make of it, but mr. percival guessed the source of the strange flame in a moment. "they've built a fire," he said quietly. "or, at least, bess has. i don't believe the minister could do it, this wet night, if he tried!" he could, though, as captain bess soon found out, when he had stopped to rest in the edge of the forest. about fifty feet from the path was a huge bowlder draped with ferns, with the top slightly overhanging its base. to the shelter of this great rock the young clergyman had borne his charge, placing her on a dry cushion of moss and fir needles, where the faintness soon left her, though the pain did not. he had then busied himself in a wonderfully handy way, collecting dry stuff from beneath the bowlder, and in five minutes had a glorious fire snapping and crackling, right in the midst of the rain. "that will be a comfort to us," he remarked, eying the blaze with great satisfaction, "and will signal the party they are sure to send out for us." "o, yes!" cried bess. and then, of course, she had to tell him, often pausing as the sharp twinges of pain shot more and more fiercely through her ankle, all about the lost party in maine, and the exploit which had earned for her the title of captain. she had hardly finished her story when a shout was heard, and presently the relief party came hurrying into the firelit space. "what is it, dear? are you hurt?" asked mr. percival, hastily kneeling down beside his daughter and throwing his arms around her. he had not realized until that moment how deeply anxious he had been during that dismal walk. "only a little, father. it's just my ankle. i turned it on the rocks." "how did you get here?" "mr. selborne--carried me." her father turned and clasped the young man's hand, saying simply, "i thank you." but each of the men knew the already strong friendship between them was deepened. "now for getting home," called out rossiter. "too bad to leave the fire, though, isn't it?" "you can spend the night here if you like," laughed bess, rising painfully and clinging to her father's arm. it was clear that she could not walk a step. the fire was cared for; then the two sturdy young backwoodsmen made an arm-chair with their hands and wrists, and tramped off with bess between them as easily as if she were a kitten. very slowly though, and with great skill and care, feeling the ground carefully with their feet at every step. so they made their way back to the hotel, where there was a general jubilee over their return. the train was side-tracked that night, close by the station. it was great fun for the young people to climb aboard, and, after a good-night sing, clamber into their berths to be lulled to sleep, not by the rumble of iron wheels, but the rushing waters of the illicilliwaet. bessie, it should be said, was carried to the cars by her father. there was a physician in the party, and by his advice the strained ankle received such wise and timely treatment that by bed-time it was far less painful. in two or three days, the doctor said, she could use it again, though care would be necessary for a fortnight or more. on the following morning the rain was still falling, but by ten o'clock the sky brightened a little, and the percivals, with the exception of bess, set out for a walk down the track. there was a long snow shed not far away, from which tom hoped to get a good operating field for his kodak. hardly had they clambered to the top of the structure and "pressed the button" once, when a flying gust of rain, backed by a portentous black cloud, sent them flying down again. "let's come in under the shed," proposed tom. this, however, was so cold and damp, that fred and randolph, seeing some detached freight cars, a few rods up the track, started off to explore for a better shelter. a minute or two later they were beckoning and shouting to the rest of the party. "run for it!" they called out. "plenty of room here for all hands!" pet distanced the other girls, and was mounting a short flight of steps to the end of the nearest freight car, when what was her surprise to be met at the door by a fresh-faced, modest-looking young woman. "come in," she said simply. "i hope you haven't got wet," and led the way to the interior of the car. "it's like a fairy story," whispered pet to kittie, as the latter scrambled up the steps. "is she a princess in disguise?" "only so far as she is a true 'king's daughter' in her hospitality," said mr. percival, catching pet's question, and replying in the same tone. in trooped the excursionists, a dozen or more of them, all looking about them in amazement. the car was divided into two compartments: one small one for a sleeping-room, the larger--in which the strangers were received--serving as kitchen and "living room." a fire snapped and purred comfortably in the stove; before the tiny windows (against which the rain was now dashing in good earnest) were draped red curtains, and on the sill were pots of geranium and ivy. cheerful prints hung upon the walls, and altogether the old freight car, settled down at last after its many wanderings, was as cosey a home as heart could desire. the bright little hostess proudly exhibited a photograph of her husband, a manly-looking fellow, and one or two other views which comprised her art treasures. her modest and quiet demeanor would have done credit to a high-bred lady, and none of the percivals, i think, will soon forget their hearty welcome, or the warm good-by with which she sped her parting guests. before leaving, it should be added, randolph made the rounds of the car, and left a substantial remembrance in the hands of this far away "king's daughter." but the train was ready, and the old locomotive in a flurried way calling her brood of one hundred chickens together. away went the cars once more, curving around the mountain spurs, crossing torrents, clinging to the rugged slopes of granite; now descending to the level of the columbia, now climbing again to eagle pass, ever westward toward the pacific. that night, it should be mentioned, they passed through kamloops, not a remarkable town in itself, but ever memorable from the fact that it gave its name to the car in which the percivals crossed the continent. a great celebration had been planned for the occasion; but as everybody was asleep at the time (about two in the morning), it didn't come off. the titles of all the cars had by this time become very familiar, and the girls spoke of calling on a friend in the "missanabie," or stepping back to the "nepigon," as they would mention newbury street or louisburg square. one morning they found themselves rolling along the high bank of the fraser river, famous in the history of the gold fever of ; its muddy waters, laden with the wealth of empires, rushing past the train toward the ocean. on the shore chinamen and indians could be seen, dredging for gold, or fishing for salmon. on the further side of the river ran the old government wagon road, curiously built and buttressed with logs in many places, leading to the cariboo gold country. at yale--an outfitting point for runners and ranchmen--there was a stop to water the engine. children crowded up to the cars with small baskets of berries and nosegays. randolph brought in to bessie--who was patiently bearing her lameness--a bunch of exquisite white pansies, a strange product for this wild, half-civilized country. it was high noon when the conductor opened the door of the car and shouted: "vancouver! vancouver!" chapter vi. victoria and "the queen." "vancouver," began mr. percival that afternoon, "is the baby city of the northwest." they were in a barouche, five of them, driving through stanley park. "what do you mean by that, sir?" asked his nephew. "why, it's less than six years old, randolph. yet it has a population of over fifteen thousand. six years ago to-day there was a dense forest where these great brick and stone buildings now stand." "wasn't it burned once, father?" asked tom, anxious to show the result of his reading. "when it was two months old," replied mr. percival, "every house but one was destroyed by fire. now it is one of the most prosperous and well-managed cities in the dominion." "i noticed in the canadian pacific time-tables," put in fred, "that there is a regular line of steamers running from vancouver to japan and china." "what kind of trees are these, driver?" asked randolph. "douglas fir and cedar, mostly," said the driver, who proved to be a vermont man. "the big ones are cedar." big ones they were, truly; with trunks, or, in some cases, mere stumps, twenty to forty feet in diameter. the driver explained that in the early days of the city these magnificent trees were often ruthlessly destroyed, merely to get them out of the way. at last the city authorities took the matter in hand, and preserved a large tract of forest land, now called stanley park, for the permanent enjoyment of the people. the road was a beautiful one, and in some places the travelers could catch glimpses of the broad pacific, true to its name, breaking in slow, gentle waves on the beach just below. at sunset the whole party boarded the steamer _islander_, and the six hours' moonlight sail that followed was more like fairy-land than anything they had yet seen. the calm waters of the gulf of georgia, silvered and peaceful in the midsummer moonlight, stretched away on every side, broken only by wooded islands and the jutting promontories of vancouver's; while far away to the southwest mount baker's snowy peak rose, pale and serene, among the clouds. the young people sang all their "kamloops" songs over and over, the music adding the one needful touch to the scene. on arriving at the wharf in victoria, they were glad to make their way through the noisy crowd of hackmen to the carriages reserved for their party, and take refuge in the driard, where they were to rest for the next two days. * * * * * "have you a piece of string, pa?" it was a simple, kindly-faced little woman who asked the question, looking up to her husband, the gardener. randolph and pet had taken a long walk through the streets of the city of victoria, and out among the scattered houses and fields that border the way. presently they reached a pretty cottage almost hidden from sight by a mass of climbing honeysuckle. in the garden beside it grew a profusion of old-fashioned flowers--stocks, sweet mignonette, geraniums, and many others. a bed of lovely pansies attracted pet's attention. "oh! do you suppose they would sell some?" "we'll soon see," and sure enough, there was "ma" upon the little piazza, beaming with hospitality and pleasure at the approach of visitors. she set to work at once gathering pansies, and while she arranged her nosegay, the two bostonians talked with her husband, who, it seemed, was an englishman, and earned his living from his garden, which he was just watering. he took especial pride in his fuchsias, which grew in lovely abundance and variety all around his door. sweet peas were there, too, the vines nearly as high as your head, all covered with dainty "painted ladies." "pa" having furnished the string, randolph received (for twenty cents) a great bunch of pansies. the little saleswoman then added a stalk of gillyflower and a scarlet geranium for buttonholes, and with a smiling face said good-by. the pansies were soon transferred, pet keeping the gillyflower in her dress until she was out of sight, "so as not to hurt ma's feelings," and then replacing it by the pretty "thoughts." later in the day they visited the chinese quarter of the city, in company with tom and his inseparable kodak. there was a delightful baby in one of the shops, and tom begged hard to be allowed to "snap" it, but the parents said "no," and could not be moved to relent, though they did offer the photographer a live gold-fish as some compensation for the refused privilege. mr. percival also took his charges to the splendid naval station of esquimault, where the pacific squadron of english ships were lying at anchor. the percivals hired a man (from connecticut) to row them out in a boat to the great _war spite_ over which they were shown by a smart british sailor boy in blue. they were deeply interested in her great cannon, throwing a three hundred pound ball, her massive machinery, and her vicious-looking steel torpedoes, which run under water, and are guided by an electric wire connected with the ship. "you can guess the size of the vessel," wrote randolph to a friend that night, "when you learn that six hundred men are now quartered in her." just at dusk, on the second day in victoria, they went on board the good ship _queen_, which was waiting to bear them northward to the rugged coast, the island-studded gulfs and bays, and the eternal ice-rivers of alaska. for a long time that evening they walked the deck, kittie pacing side by side with fred seacomb, randolph telling pet of his freshman struggles and triumphs and pleasures at harvard, tom talking eagerly with his father, whose arm he took as they went to and fro, or paused to look out over the quiet waters, or the twinkling lights of victoria. adelaide, bess, rossiter and mrs. percival formed a cosey group reclining in their steamer-chairs in the shelter of the staterooms which they were to occupy that night. at six the next morning the passengers felt the first thrill which told that the _queen_ had begun her voyage. hastily they dressed, and emerged one by one from their staterooms, to gain every moment of this enchanted day. the voyage northward led through narrow channels, where one could almost toss a biscuit ashore on either side; across open stretches of the blue pacific, whose great waves rocked them gently; along the base of lofty mountains, with wild, untraveled forests growing on the water's very edge. soon they began to see indian encampments, or solitary natives, paddling their queer-shaped, dug-out canoes. whales rose solemnly and spouted with deep sighs. porpoises showed their glistening backs above water, raced beside the ship, and threw themselves out into the sunlight. eagles winged their way from shore to shore, and ducks paddled merrily in every small bay. on masses of floating timber hovered snow-gulls, their beautiful wings lifting and closing as their rafts were rocked in the steamer's wake. the second day on board was sunday. there was an episcopal service in the saloon in the forenoon, nearly all the excursionists assembling and joining in the hymns. the afternoon passed quietly, many of the passengers writing letters to home friends, some reading, some walking or reclining in steamer-chairs on deck. in the evening the percivals gathered for a sing in a sheltered place near the wheel-house. never before did the old church tunes sound so sweetly. at nine o'clock the sky was all golden with sunset colors, reflected in the smooth waters of the sound. just before that hour there had been a little silence. when two bells were struck, mr. percival was seen to smile with a curious expression. "what is it, father?" asked bess, who was nestling close to his side. "why, it reminded me first of church bells, and then of an odd little affair in a maine town, not far from your uncle's farm." "oh! tell us about it," cried two or three voices at once. "a story, a story!" "well, i should hardly like to turn this pleasant little sunday evening meeting into a story-telling circle," said mr. percival after a moment's pause; "but as it's all about a church, and is a sort of christmas story, perhaps it will do no harm. are you warm enough, bessie?" "plenty, father," replied the little captain. "do give us the story. i've heard you tell it before, but i always did like to see you tell." you must fancy, as you read the next few pages, that you are on the steamer, with collar turned up, or shawl muffled about your shoulders. just in front of you is the story-teller, a man of about sixty, with iron-gray hair and full beard, kindly eyes and broad shoulders. his right arm is thrown over bessie's shoulder as she leans against him, the little injured foot on a camp-stool before her. mr. selborne, quiet and grave, with rather a thin face, but fine dark eyes and firm mouth under a brown mustache, comes next. kittie and tom are seated on the bench that runs around the whole deck, their backs to the rail. pet is in a steamer-chair, and randolph, adelaide and mrs. percival are grouped together, completing the circle. half a dozen other friends have drawn near, and are comfortably reclining, sitting or standing just behind pet. a radiant path leads over the waters toward the west, where the wooded islands throw their dark, rugged summits against the sky. the muffled splashing of the steamer's great wheels, mingled with the low whispers of wind and sea, fill the pauses of the speaker's voice. overhead a brood of ocean fowl, a flock of slender-winged gulls, or a single eagle sweep silently across the bright field of gold. it would be impossible, as there was no shorthand writer present, to give the narrative that followed in mr. percival's exact words; or to reproduce the kindly twinkle of his eye as he dwelt upon the more humorous phases of it. these you must yourself supply as you read. the story of the cracked bell. there was no doubt whatever of its melancholy condition. cracked it was, and cracked it had been for the last two years. just how the crack came there, nobody knew. it was, indeed, a tiny flaw, long ago covered by green rust, and apparently as harmless as the veriest thread or a wisp of straw, lodging for a moment on the old bell's brazen sides. but when the clapper began to swing, and gave one timid touch to the smooth inner surface of its small cell, the flaw made itself known, and as the strokes grew louder and angrier, the dissonance so clattered and battered against the ears of the parish, that after two years' patient endurance of this infliction (which they considered a direct discipline, to humble their pride over a new coat of white paint on the little church), one small, nervous sister rose in prayer meeting and begged that the bell be left quiet, or at least muffled for one day, as it disturbed her daughter, whom all the village knew to be suffering from consumption. emboldened by this declaration of war, a deacon declared that it was an insult to religion and its founder, to ring such a bell. it was the laughing-stock of the village, he added, and its flat discords were but a signal for derision on the part of every scoffer and backslider in the parish. other evidence of convincing character was given by various members of the congregation; the bell was tried, condemned and sentenced; and more than one face showed its relief as good old dr. manson, the pastor, instructed the sexton publicly to omit the customary call to services on the following sabbath. "i hope," he further said, looking around gravely on his people, "that you will all make more than usual effort to be in your pews promptly at half-past ten." for a time the members of the first congregational society of north penfield were noticeably and commendably prompt in their attendance upon all services. they were so afraid that they should be late that they arrived at the meeting-house a good while before the opening hymn. dr. manson was gratified, the village wits were put down, and the old bell hung peacefully in the belfry over the attentive worshipers, as silent as they. snow and rain painted its surface with vivid tints, and the swallows learned that they could perch upon it without danger of its being jerked away from their slender feet. there was no other meeting-house in the town, and as the nearest railroad was miles away, the sound of a clear-toned bell floating down from the summer sky, or sending its sweet echoes vibrating through a wintry twilight in an oft-repeated mellow call to prayers, was almost forgotten. gradually the congregation fell into the habit of dropping in of a sunday morning while the choir were singing the voluntary, or remaining in the vestibule where, behind the closed doors, they had a bit of gossip while they waited for the rustle within which announced the completion of the pastor's long opening prayer. it became a rare occurrence for all to be actually settled in their pews when the text was given out. the same tardiness was noticeable in the friday evening meetings; and, odd to say, a certain spirit of indolence seemed to creep over the services themselves. whereas in former days the farmers and their wives were wont to come bustling briskly into the vestry while the bell was ringing, and the cheerful hum of voices arose in the informal handshaking "before meeting," soon quieting and then blending joyously in the stirring strains of "how firm a foundation," or "onward, christian soldier," followed by one brief, earnest prayer or exhortation after another, in quick succession, in these later days it was quite different. it was quite difficult to carry the first hymn through, as there were rarely enough good singers present to sustain the air. now it was the pianist who was late, now the broad-shouldered mill-owner, whose rich bass was indeed a "firm foundation" for all timid sopranos and altos; now the young man who could sing any part with perfect confidence, and often did wander over all four in the course of a single verse, lending a helping hand, so to speak, wherever it was needed. the halting and dispirited hymn made the members self-distrustful and melancholy at the outset. there were long pauses during which all the sluggish or tired-out brothers and sisters nodded in the heated room, and the sensitive and nervous clutched shawl fringes and coat buttons in agonized fidgets. the meetings became so dull and heavy that slight excuses were sufficient to detain easy-going members at home, especially the young people. it was a rare sight now to see bright eyes and rosy cheeks in the room. the members discussed the dismal state of affairs, which was only too plain, and laid the blame on the poor old minister. "his sermons haven't the power they had once, brother stimpson," remarked deacon fairweather, shaking his head sadly, as they trudged home from afternoon service one hot sunday in august. "there's somethin' wantin'. i don't jestly know what." "he ain't pussonal enough. you want to be pussonal to do any good in a parish. there's squire radbourne, now. everybody knows he sets up sunday evenin's and works on his law papers. i say there ought to be a reg'lar downright discourse on sabbath breakin'." "thet's so, thet's so," assented the deacon. "and brother langworth hasn't been nigh evenin' meetin' for mor'n six weeks." from one faulty member to another they wandered; forgetting, as they jogged along the familiar path side by side, talking eagerly, the banks of golden-rod beside them, the blue sky and fleecy clouds above, the blue hills in the distance, and all the glory and brightness of the blessed summer day. the next morning, north penfield experienced a shock. the white-haired pastor, overcome by extra labor, increasing cares, the feebleness of age, or a combination of all these causes, had sunk down upon his bed helplessly, on his return from the little white meeting-house the afternoon before, never to rise again until he should leave behind him the weary earth-garments that now but hindered his slow and painful steps. the townspeople were greatly concerned, for the old man was dearly loved by young and old. those who of late had criticised now remembered dr. manson's palmy days, when teams came driving in from penfield center, "the hollow," and two or three other adjoining settlements, to listen to the impassioned discourses of the young clergyman. a meeting of the committee was called at once, to consider the affairs of the bereft church--for bereft they felt it to be--and take steps for an immediate supply during the vacancy of the pulpit. two months later dr. manson passed peacefully away, and there was one more mound in the little churchyard. the snows of early december already lay deep on road and field before the north penfield parish, in a regularly called and organized meeting, was given to understand that a new minister was settled. half a dozen candidates had preached to the people, but only one had met with favor. harold olsen was a norwegian by parentage, though born in america. tall and straight as the pines of the norseland, with clear, flashing blue eyes and honest, winning smile, the congregation began to love him before he was half through his first sermon. his sweet-faced little wife made friends with a dozen people between services; by nightfall the question was practically settled, and so was the rev. harold olsen, "the new minister," as he was called for years afterward. at the beginning of the second week in december, harold ascended the pulpit stairs of the north penfield meeting-house, feeling very humble and very thankful in the face of his new duties. he loved his work, his people, his wife and his god; and here he was, with them all at once. sleigh bells jingled merrily outside the door; one family after another came trooping in, muffled to the ears, and moved demurely up the central or side aisles to their high-backed pews. the sunlight found its way in under the old-fashioned fan-shaped blinds at the tops of the high windows, and rested upon gray hair and brown, on figures bowed with grief and age, on restless, eager children, on the pulpit itself, and finally upon the golden-edged leaves of the old bible. still the people came in. a hymn was given out and sung. while harold was lifting his soul to heaven on the wings of his prayer, he could not help hearing the noise of heavy boots in the meeting-house entry, stamping the snow. his fervent "amen" was the signal for a draft of cold air from the doors, followed by a dozen late comers. after the sermon, which was so simple and straightforward that it went directly to the hearts of the people, he was eager to confer with his deacons for a few minutes. "the bell didn't ring this morning, brother fairweather. what was the matter?" he asked, after a warm hand-grasp all round. "why, the fact is, sir, there ain't no bell." "that is, none to speak of," put in deacon stimpson apologetically. "there's a bell up there, but it got so cracked an' out o' tune that nobody could stan' it, sick or well." the rev. harold olsen's eyes twinkled. "how long have you gone without this unfortunate bell?" "oh! a matter o' two or three years, i guess." "weddings, funerals, and all?" "well, yes," reluctantly, "i b'lieve so. i did feel bad when we follored the minister to his grave without any tollin'--he was master fond o' hearing that bell, fust along--but there, it couldn't be helped. public opinion was against that 'ere particular bell, and we jes' got laughed at, ringin' it. so we stopped, and here we be, without it." mr. olsen's blue eyes sparkled again as he caught his little wife's glance, half-amused, half-pained. he changed the subject, and went among his parishioners, inquiring kindly for the absent ones, and making new friends. at a quarter before three (the hour for afternoon service) he entered the meeting-house again. the sexton was asleep in one of the pews. he was roused by a summons so startling that a repetition was necessary before he could comprehend its import. "r-ring the bell!" he gasped incredulously. "w-why, sir, it hasn't been rung for"-- "never mind, mr. bedlow," interrupted harold, with his pleasant smile. "let's try it to-day, just for a change." harold had attended one or two prayer meetings, as well as sunday services, and--had an idea. on reaching the entry, the sexton shivered in the cold air, and pointed helplessly to a hole in the ceiling, through which the bell rope was intended to play. "i put it up inside out of the way, so's the boys couldn't get it," he chattered. "d-don't you think, sir, we'd better wait till"-- but it was no use to talk to empty air. the new minister had gone, and presently returned with a long, heavy bench, which he handled as easily as if it were a lady's work-basket. "just steady it a bit," he asked; and mr. bedlow, with conscientious misgivings as to the propriety of his assisting at a gymnastic performance on sunday, did as he was bid. up went the minister like a cat; and presently down came the knotted end of the rope. "now, let's have a good, hearty pull, mr. bedlow." the sexton grasped the rope and pulled. there was one frightened, discordant outcry from the astonished bell; and there stood poor mr. bedlow with about three yards of detached rope in his hands. it had broken just above the point where it passed through the flooring over his head. "now, sir," expostulated the sexton. "here, dick!" called mr. olsen, to a bright-faced little fellow who had put his head in at the door and was regarding these unwonted proceedings with round-eyed astonishment; "won't you run over to my house and ask my wife for that long piece of clothes-line that hangs up in the kitchen closet?" dick was gone like a flash, his curiosity excited to the highest pitch. "what does he want it for?" asked pretty olga olsen, hurrying to produce the required article. "don't know," panted dick. "he's got mr. bedlow--in the entry--an' he sent for a rope, double quick!" with which bewildering statement he tore out of the house and back to the church. five minutes later the population of north penfield were astounded by hearing a long-silent, but only too familiar voice. "it's that old cracked bell!" exclaimed half a hundred voices at once, in as many families. "do let's go to meetin' an' see what's the matter." the afternoon's congregation was, in fact, even larger than the morning's. harold noted it with quiet satisfaction, and gave out as his text the first verse of the sixty-sixth psalm. at the close of his brief sermon he paused a moment, then referred to the subject in all their thoughts, speaking in no flippant or jesting tone, but in a manner that showed how sacredly important he considered the matter. "i have been pained to notice," he said gravely, "the tardiness with which we begin our meetings. it is perfectly natural that we should be late, when there is no general call, such as we have been accustomed to hear from childhood. i do not blame anybody in the least. i do believe that we have all grown into a certain sluggishness, both physical and spiritual, in our assembling together, as a direct consequence of the omission of those chimes which to us and our fathers have always spoken but one blessed word--'_come!_' i believe," he continued, looking about over the kindly faces before him, "i believe you agree with me that something should be done. don't think me too hasty or presuming in my new pastorate, if i add that it seems to me vitally important to take action at once. our bell is not musical, it is true, but its tones, cracked and unmelodious as they are, will serve to remind us of our church home, its duties and its pleasures. on tuesday evening we will hold a special meeting in this house to consider the question of purchasing a new bell, to take the place of the old. the prudential committee, and all who are interested in the subject are urged to be present. let us pray." it was a wonderful "season," that tuesday evening conference. the cracked bell did its quavering best for a full twenty minutes before the hour appointed, to call the people together; and no appeal could have been more irresistible. two thirds of the sum required was raised that night. for ten days more the old bell rang on every possible occasion, until it became an accusing voice of conscience to the parish. prayer meetings once more began sharp on the hour, and proceeded with old-time vigor. the interest spread until a real revival was in progress before the north penfield society were fairly aware of the change. still the "bell fund" lacked fifty dollars of completion. on the evening of the twentieth of december, in the midst of a furious storm, a knock was heard at the parsonage, and lo, at the hastily opened door stood squire radbourne, powdered with snowflakes, and beaming like a veritable santa claus. "i couldn't feel easy," he announced, after he had been relieved of coat and furs, and seated before the blazing fire, "to have next sunday go by without a new bell on the meeting-house. we must have some good hearty chimes on that morning, sure; it's the twenty-fifth, you know. so here's a little christmas present to the parish--or the lord, either way you want to put it." the crisp fifty dollar note he laid down before the delighted couple was all that was needed. harold made a quick calculation--he had already selected a bell at a foundry a hundred miles away--and sitting down at his desk, wrote rapidly. "i'll mail your letter," said the squire. "it's right on my way--or near enough. let's get it off to-night, to save time." and away he trudged again, through the deepening drifts and the blur of the white storm. on saturday evening, after all the village people were supposed to be abed and asleep, two dark figures might have been seen moving to and fro in the old meeting-house, with a lantern. after some irregular movements in the entry, the light appeared in the belfry, and a little later, one queer, flat, brassy note, uncommonly like the voice of the cracked bell, rang out on the night air. then there was absolute silence; and before long the meeting-house was locked up and left to itself again on christmas eve--alone, with the wonder-secret of a new song in its faithful heart, waiting to break forth in praise of god at dawn of day. how the people started that fair christmas morning, as the sweet, silvery notes fell on their ears! they hastened to the church; they pointed to the belfry where the bell swung to and fro in a joyous call of "_come! come! come! come!_" they listened in rapt silence, and some could not restrain their sobs, while others with grateful tears in their eyes looked upon the old, rusty, cracked bell that rested, silent, on the church floor; and as they looked, and even passed their hands lovingly over its worn sides, they thanked god for its faithful service and the good work it had wrought--and for the glad hopes that filled that blessed christmas day. chapter vii. solomon baranov. "all ashore!" sung out tom as the _queen_ touched the wharf at fort wrangell, at nine o'clock the next morning. "come on, all of you. we have four hours here, the captain says." mounting the rail for a jump, the boy brought upon himself a sharp rebuke from the officer; but the ship was soon safely moored and the gangplank run down to the wharf. the excursionists straggled ashore in twos and threes, and began an eager inspection of their first alaskan town. the percivals and their friends stroll down the single street of the village, which borders the shore with a row of low wooden houses. here are three or four squaws in gaudy blankets, crouching on a little wooden platform in front of their hut. their favorite position is that of a seal, or a pussy cat--half-reclining, face downward. spread out on the platform are baskets made of cedar-root, fiber and bark; carved wooden knives and forks; spoons of horn; little stone images, silver bracelets, and other curiosities of home manufacture. mr. percival purchased one or two of these trinkets for friends at home, and continued his walk, followed by a pack of yelping dogs. a singular object now came in view--a pole about twenty feet tall and two feet in diameter, carved in strange and fantastic shapes. there were the figures of a bear, a raven, a fish and a frog, with a grotesque human head at the top of all. this was one of the famous "totem poles," which indicate the tribe to which the owner belongs, and generally display an image of one or more ancestors. a thousand good american dollars could hardly purchase this ugly, worn, weather-beaten old pole from the natives who live in squalid poverty in the log hut behind it. [illustration: totem poles at fort wrangell.] here was another totem pole belonging to the chief of the bear tribe. it had simply the figure of a crouching bear on the top, with prints of his feet carved in the wood leading up to it. another had a raven in the same way. there was a huge wooden wolf set on the tomb of a prominent member of the "wolves"--once a powerful alaskan tribe. "do you suppose they would let us go inside their house?" whispered adelaide to her brother, glancing timidly in at one of the open front doors. "i'll see," he replied, and soon returned, laughing. "they don't object in the least," he said. "they seem used to visitors." entering the door, the party found themselves in a large square room, which comprised the whole interior of the house. the floor was of earth, beaten hard, but a wooden platform, raised about two feet, ran around three sides. in the exact center was a smouldering fire of logs, the smoke finding its way out through a hole in the roof. "where do you sleep?" asked rossiter. only one of the half-dozen natives who were seated around the fire could understand english. "bed," she said, pointing to a heap of blankets lying on the raised platform in one corner of the room. on the dingy walls of the little hut there hung a colored print of the saviour's face. all around were the strange heathen carvings and rude implements of the alaskan native. the four posts which supported the roof were "totems," representing in hideous caricature the tribe to which the inhabitants of the hut belonged. the natives themselves, slow of movement and speech, their dull eyes hardly glancing at the strangers, were grouped on the raised margin of the floor. i said the faces were dull. there was one exception. a young mother bent over a solemn brown baby who lay, round-eyed and contented, in her lap. the girl's eyes shone with mother-love; her dark hand was gentle as she smoothed baby's tumbled little blanket, and looked up shyly and proudly at the new-comers. the child in its mother's bosom; the christ face upon the wall: these were the two points of light in that shadowy home. christ, who came as a little child to bethlehem, had sent a baby to fort wrangell, and a thought, vague and unformed though it was, of the saviour whose face looked down upon the little group, from its rude frame upon the wall. the girls waved their hands to the round little brown berry of a baby, and the mother laughed and looked pleased, just as a new england mother would. mr. selborne left in her hand a silver coin--"two bits," everybody in alaska called a quarter--and said good-by. "what tribe do they belong to?" asked randolph, as they emerged from the gloomy hut. "stickeen," promptly replied tom. "let's give 'em a sing." and sing they did, until the solemn faces of the natives gathering about them on the beach, actually relaxed into the semblance of a smile. reaching the steamer once more, they displayed their treasures before bess, who could not yet quite venture on a long walk. there were toy paddles, with ravens' and bears' heads painted in red and black; horn spoons, dark and light, with finely carved profiles on the handle; great rough garnets, of which tom had purchased half a handful for a song, and many other oddities. of course the kodak army had been busy, but the results could not yet be seen. many a stickeen portrait and ugly totem lay snugly hidden in those black leather boxes, to be "developed," printed and laughed over in gay city parlors the coming winter. just as the boat cast off her moorings, an indian, fantastically dressed, appeared on the wharf, and gave a dance for the benefit of the departing passengers, who threw down bits of silver as the _queen_ once more started on her course. as the heart of the great ship began to throb and she swung slowly out toward the sea, one tall, quiet-faced man stood upon the old wharf among the indians, silently watching the departure of all that meant home and friends. he waved his hand and lifted his hat to some one on deck, then turned gravely, and with firm step walked back toward the straggling row of huts which sheltered the poor, degraded natives of fort wrangell. "who is that?" queried some one carelessly, and the answer came: "the missionary." it was mr. selborne who spoke last. he explained that he had just been talking with the man, who was doing noble work in this squalid, miserable community. his pay was a mere pittance, and the society supporting him were in sore need of funds for the establishment of a school or home for native children. rossiter paused. "let's give them a helping hand," said mr. percival, passing over a bill. another and another fell into the hat that was sent around, and a few days afterward that missionary's eyes filled with glad tears as he opened a package containing one hundred and thirty dollars for the needed home, from the passengers of the _queen_. another wonderfully beautiful evening followed the wrangell experience. at half-past nine fine print could be read by daylight, and at eleven it was by no means dark. the next day the steamer touched at douglas island, giving its passengers time for a run up to the richest gold mine in the world. in the early afternoon the _queen_ steamed across the strait to juneau, only a few miles distant, and stopped there for the night. it was a larger town than any they had yet seen in alaska, and curved around a fine bay at the base of high mountains, on whose high slopes could be seen patches of snow and "young glaciers," as fred called them. mr. selborne and his sister at once hunted up the mission house, and had a long talk with mrs. willard, the brave and gentle lady who gave up a happy and comfortable home life in the east to help the alaskan natives. "one could listen to her stories all day and not tire of them," said rossiter to mr. percival afterward. "the sufferings and the superstitions of these poor creatures are almost incredible." shortly after returning from the mission, he mailed to fort wrangell the valuable letter of which we have spoken. the young people scattered through the village as soon as the steamer was moored. mr. percival rode off with two gentlemen who met him upon the wharf, to look at the silver bow basin gold mines, of which he was part owner. tom and fred strolled along arm in arm, in front of the houses and stores that lined the beach, now and then stopping to speak to a native, or examine the trinkets and furs that were everywhere exposed for sale. they were handling an unusually fine brown bear rug, when a curious-looking man, perhaps fifty years of age, halted by their side. [illustration: tom and fred at juneau.] his hair and beard were long and rough, and his garments seemed to have been made for a wearer much shorter and stouter than himself. he was over six feet in height, and had a kindly, almost child-like look in his blue eyes, which, however, were keen as a hawk's, looking out from under a pair of shaggy eyebrows. "pretty good pelt, that," he remarked, running his hand over the skin. "thinkin' o' buyin'?" there was no mistaking the new england "down east" accent, which reminded tom of ruel at "the pines." "well, hardly that," answered fred, taking the man for the proprietor of the store. "we thought we might price some of these rugs, though. how much do you ask for this one?" "bless ye!" exclaimed the other, with a good-natured laugh; "i don't know nothin' 'baout selling 'em. ask the storekeeper in there." "oh! i thought"--began fred, blushing a little at his mistake. "i see," laughed their new friend; "ye took me for the owner. wall, you war'n't so fur aout o' the way, either. i was the owner o' that pelt, last fall." the boys waited for more; seeing which the hunter--for such he seemed to be--went on: "i shot that 'ar b'ar up 'n the yukon valley, last september. he was jest lookin' fer a place to den up, i reckon, when he run foul o' my rifle," he added, with a silent chuckle. "what kind of a bear is it?" asked tom. "a cinnamon?" "reg'lar cinnamon. braown b'ar, some folks call 'em. they're's thick's squirrels back in the maountings. but this was an extra fine one, an' no mistake." just then the storekeeper came out and greeted the party. "how do you do, gentlemen? won't you walk in? finest skins in juneau--no harm looking at 'em, whether you want to buy or not. halloo, solomon! round again? how soon do you start north?" "wall, in 'baout a month, i reckon. the musquiters are too thick to make it more'n half-comf'table in the woods jest naow." "that is solomon baranov, the best shot in these parts," explained the storekeeper, leading the way into his shop. "he shoots and traps all the time except in the hottest months of the year. he could tell you some good bear stories, i reckon!" "'baranov'? he's not a russian, is he?" "father was russian, and mother a yankee. she came from somewhere east, i'm told. now, what can i show you in the way of furs or indian curios, gentlemen? look at that for a fox robe!" the boys purchased a good gray wolf skin, handsomely mounted, knowing that juneau was the best place in alaska for buying fine furs. but they hurried out again as soon as this piece of business was transacted, anxious to renew their acquaintance with baranov. he was sitting on a raised platform at a little distance, smoking an old brierwood pipe, and talking seriously to a couple of black cubs, who gamboled clumsily about him, tugging at their chains and pushing their snouts into his capacious jacket pockets for eatables. "seems to me," he was saying gravely as the boys came up, "i'd think o' somethin' else besides eatin' all day. haven't ye got any ambition? don't it wear on ye bein' tied up, instead o' rootin' raound in the woods i took ye from last march? halloo, boys! find a pelt ye liked?" tom opened his package and displayed the wolf skin. "very good, very good," said the old hunter, running his hand through the fur. "an auk brought that in last winter. he got clawed up putty well, too, killin' the critter." "i wish you'd tell us something about the hunting around here," said tom, as he and fred flung themselves down beside the man. "tell ye somethin'! i'd show ye somethin' ef we only hed time. why, thar's b'ars within three gunshot o' this very spot, like's not, back a piece on the maounting. how long d'ye stay here?" "only to-night." "stoppin' on the _queen_?" "yes; with a big excursion from boston." "wall, then, your excursion won't get away from juneau before day after to-morrow evenin', at the arliest." "what do you mean? how's that?" cried both boys at once. "somethin's given aout in the steamer's machinery. i heard cap'n carroll say an hour ago that he must stop here to fix it, and 'twould take two days at least." "then we could go with you. will you take us?" "why, ef your folks is willin', and you ain't afraid of a long tramp, an' wet feet, and mebbe a b'ar or two--an' musquiters," he added in a comical tone, "we could fix it so's to git away arly to-morrow mornin', camp one night, and be back before noon thursday, ef nothin' happened." "but we haven't any guns"-- "oh! two rifles is all we'd want in this craowd. thar's my piece at home, and i'd borrow one somewhars in juneau." "well, i tell you what, fred," shouted tom, "if father's willing we should go, we can have a big time, and perhaps kill a bear!" "that's so!" said fred, catching fire from the other's enthusiasm. "that'll be seeing a bit of alaska that isn't down on the programme, eh?" "is your father raound?" asked solomon, with a meditative puff at his pipe. "he's gone off to look at some mines." "h'm--'silver bow,' i s'pose. when d'ye expect him back?" "before supper, he said. where can we find you, mr.--mr."-- "you c'n call me solomon or baranov, jest's ye please," said the hunter. "there ain't no 'mister' to it. i'll meet you here, or what's better, i'll be daown on the wharf at eight o'clock to-night. what's your names?" "tom percival and fred seacomb. i'll bring my father with me." and with mutual good-bys they parted for the afternoon. tom could think of nothing but the coming tramp, and dignified fred displayed a degree of excitement which was, to say the least, unusual. the girls looked anxious when they heard the plan, but admitted that if they were boys it would be great fun. "of course," remarked tom, "you'll be awfully lonesome without us, that day and a half. but you must bear up under it." "we'll try," said kittie demurely. "but if you go, we shall expect a good bear skin apiece, to pay for the lonesomeness." "don't let 'em put their paws on your shoulders, tom," counseled randolph solemnly. "nor try to pacify them with sugar," added pet, to whom randolph had basely confided the story of his cousin's adventure at glacier station. in the midst of the laughter, mr. percival arrived. "father, we want to go off on a bear-hunt," began tom, all in a breath. "of course you're willing, aren't you, sir? and solomon says"-- "wait, wait," laughed mr. percival, taking a seat on a stool--for this conversation took place on the deck of the _queen_, just in front of the open stateroom doors--"who is it that wants to go on a bear-hunt? bess, i suppose, and miss selborne?" they all shouted at this, adelaide as merrily as the rest. "oh! i don't want to hunt bears, mr. percival," she cried. "nothing short of elephants will do for me." then they all began talking at once, and at last mr. percival obtained some clear idea of the plan. he looked grave. "i'll see captain carroll first," he said, "and then i'll talk with your friend, baranov." and that was all the satisfaction he would give the eager young hunters. the captain, who seemed to know all the old miners, traders and hunters on the coast, must have given mr. percival a good report of solomon, for the father's face cleared as he talked with the bluff commander of the _queen_. supper over, all the interested parties descended to the wharf, where, in due time, the old hunter made his appearance. tom performed the necessary introductions, and for ten minutes there was an earnest conversation between the two men, as to the proposed trip. the boys watched every turn and gesture, as they talked. randolph had been asked to join the party, but he was greatly interested in the new works at the mine, and preferred to spend the day in visiting the basin and going through the great half-mile tunnel in which the gold was to be drawn off by the "placer" process. "tom," said mr. percival, wheeling around suddenly on his heel, "i have decided to let you go. baranov says he will take good care of you; and captain carroll tells me he always keeps his word." solomon inclined his head gravely, but smoked in silence. "you will start at three o'clock to-morrow morning," added mr. percival. "solomon will bring all the necessary outfit for the trip, including an extra rifle." "good-night," said baranov, moving off in a leisurely manner, as if he had engaged to step across the street, rather than take charge of two inexperienced city boys on a twenty-mile tramp over the mountain. chapter viii. alive or dead? it seemed to tom that he had hardly been asleep five minutes, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "wake up, my boy! baranov is on the wharf, waiting for you." with only half his wits about him, and a vague remembrance of his experience the previous year, tom sprang up hastily, crying out, "is there a fire?" then he saw his father's expression, amused, but a little anxious, and remembered the plan for the day. "what are you up for, father?" he asked, as he scrambled into his thick traveling suit. "you ought to be sound asleep in your berth." mr. percival smiled, in reply. "i wanted to see you start," he said simply. ah, these patient, loving, anxious fathers and mothers who get up early to see their children start, and sit up late to welcome them home! how little we think of it when we are boys--how the recollection of it all, and of our own heedlessness comes to us, in after years! fred was already up, as he shared tom's stateroom on the steamer. in a few minutes more they were out in the sweet morning air, and, stepping softly and speaking in low tones, not to disturb the sleepers, they passed through the gangway and down to the wharf, accompanied by mr. percival. the sun was just rising, and the whole sky was golden with its coming, over the dark eastern hills. it would be an hour or more before his first rays would rest on the house-tops of juneau. there was the old hunter, leaning against one of the mooring-posts, and looking off over the quiet sound, to the dim blue mountains beyond. at his feet lay a large pack, two tin dippers and an ax. in the hollow of his left arm he held two guns. as the travelers left the steamer, he turned toward them with an alert air that belied his previous slouching attitude and straggling, iron-gray hair. the first greetings over, he proceeded at once to divide the luggage. "i'll take the pack," said he, "and my ax. you two boys take the guns--we sha'n't need to load 'em much before noon. tie a tin dipper around your waist, each of ye. here's some twine." "have you got provisions?" asked mr. percival. "plenty," replied solomon. "all ready, boys?" "good-by! good-by!" they said, still speaking quietly. while fred, seeing a crimson handkerchief--which looked remarkably like one worn by kittie the day before--waving from one of the little stateroom windows, waved his in return. "good-by, fred. my dear boy," turning to tom, "take care of yourself. remember, if you are delayed, i shall not leave juneau without you. allow plenty of time for the return trip. be very careful of the guns. good-by!" the anxious father pressed both the boys' hands. they turned away, and passing around the buildings at the head of the wharf, were soon out of sight. once more he saw them, as they climbed the first low hill, back of the town. they waved their hats to him, then disappeared in the edge of the forest. all the party were rather grave at the breakfast table, that morning. mrs. percival had been greatly disinclined to consent to the hunt, but she was a strong woman, and was afraid of trusting her feelings in a matter where she admitted her husband was the best judge. in the forenoon randolph accompanied his uncle to the silver bow basin, and inspected for himself the marvelous valley whose sands are so filled with precious metal that miners for years have worked in it here and there, successfully washing out gold with the rudest contrivances. the superintendent in charge of the principal works showed them the tunnel, and the process of sluicing out the sand by a powerful stream of water, or "hydraulicking," as he called it. the stream plunged into the sand in a deep pit, and then rushed off rapidly through a long tunnel which had been dug and blasted through the rocky heart of the mountain toward the sea. "what takes the gold out?" asked randolph. "why, we place those cross pieces, or riffles, at short distances all the way down, in the sluice-way which runs the whole length of the tunnel. on the upper side of the riffles is placed a quantity of quicksilver for which the gold has such an affinity (it sinks to the bottom of the stream), that it combines with it. every week or so we have a 'clean up,' when a good many thousand dollars' worth of gold is taken out and shipped south." "when do you begin to work?" asked mr. percival. "well, we calculate to commence operations about the first of may. it's according to the season. of course we can't get our power until the snow melts on the mountains, and we get a good head of water." after a thorough examination of these mines, they returned to the village, and in the afternoon took the ferry boat to douglas island, where they once more inspected the great treadwell mine which sometimes turns out a hundred thousand dollars' worth of gold in a single month. [illustration: alaskan basket weavers at home.] the ore here is imbedded in quartz, which is crushed in an immense stamp-mill where the noise of the crushers was so great that the loudest shout could not be heard. randolph and mr. percival could only communicate with the guide and with each other by signs, as they walked through the building. while these two were off on their mining tour, bessie managed, with the help of a cane and mr. selborne's arm, to walk slowly along the main street of juneau. there were a number of fur stores, and others with beautiful displays of chilkat blankets and baskets, the latter in many odd varieties of shape and color. native women sat in groups, with their wares spread out on the sidewalk before them; baskets, carvings, silver bracelets, and a queer kind of orange-colored fruit which the visitors found were the famous "salmon berries" of alaska. rossiter bought a silver spoon, finely carved, with some sort of a bird's-head design. "what kind of a bird is it?" asked the minister. the alaskan shook his head, to show he did not understand. "what kind?" asked rossiter again, very slowly, and a little more loudly, as one is apt to speak, in trying to converse with a foreigner. the native seemed now to gather the meaning of the question, but was at a loss to express himself in reply. suddenly with a quick smile he flapped his arms like wings, and cried "caw! caw!" "ah," exclaimed selborne, "it's a raven!" and the vendor nodded his head violently, much gratified at the success of his pantomime. next morning the sole topic was, how soon will they return? have they found any game? won't they be tired! captain carroll pinned up a notice in the main saloon, stating that the steamer would sail at three in the afternoon, the repairs having been completed more quickly than he had expected. mr. percival looked troubled at the change of plan, but there was no help for it. every hour of delay was an additional expense to the company; and besides, certain perilous straits ahead had to be passed at exactly such a tide, and the captain had made his calculations accordingly. noon came, but with it no sign of the hunters. one o'clock. all the percival party, and indeed most of the steamer's passengers who knew the situation and were acquainted with the boys, gathered on deck, gazing anxiously toward the high slopes which rimmed the town. still no indication of the returning party. mr. percival now packed his own valise, as well as those of his son and fred, and told his family he should remain in juneau if the boys did not return in time for the boat. the _queen_ was to touch here, contrary to its usual custom, to take a shipment of bullion on its way back to the states. the party could manage quite well on board ship during the intervening four or five days; and although mrs. percival's heart was torn with anxiety, she could see no better plan. at three o'clock, therefore, mr. percival stood on the wharf with the three portmanteaus, and the _queen_, giving a long blast of its whistle, moved majestically northward. the head of the family who had thus remained behind soon found comfortable lodgings for himself near by, and then repaired directly to the wharf, where he was sure the belated hunters would hasten at once, on their return. supper-time came, and a poor meal he made of it, at his lodging-house. returning to the wharf he vainly paced the planks in the golden twilight until nearly midnight, when he slowly retraced his steps to his lodgings, full of forebodings and self-reproach for his weakness in consenting to indulge his heedless boy in such a reckless undertaking. in the morning he was astir at sunrise, but his repeated and anxious inquiries failed to reveal any news of the absent ones. looking haggard and old, he set about raising a relief party, to start up the mountain at once. alive or dead, they must be found! chapter ix. the silver-tip. on leaving the wharf, baranov had led the way directly up through the settlement, past the mission school, until he reached the very outskirts of the village, where, in a half-cleared patch of ground, the boys stopped to get breath and wave a last good-by to their father. "naow," said the guide, with some emphasis, "comes the tug of war. you've both got good thick boots on, i s'pose?" tom was well-equipped in this respect, and fred's shoes were heavy enough for ordinarily rough walking and weather. "i've got a blanket apiece _cached_ here," continued baranov, looking about him, and presently drawing out two bundles from beneath a big stump, where he must have hidden them the night before. "they'll be pretty heavy for ye to lug, but thar's no tent, and it'll be cold enough before mornin' to make you glad you brought 'em." he thereupon produced some twine and straps, and arranged a blanket on the back of each of the two boys, so as to make the loads as easy as possible. "i've got my blanket and a rubber to put under us," he added, "in my bag." "ho, this isn't any load!" shouted tom. "it's light's a feather." solomon smiled grimly as he swung his fifty-pound pack over his shoulder, picked up his ax, and started into the woods. "it'll grow a leetle heavier before night," he remarked. "it's a way them blankets have, in this country." "which way are you going?" asked fred, adjusting his eyeglasses for the tenth time, as he stumbled over a mossy log. "wall, i think we'll strike into the old trail that leads up to the silver bow, and foller that fer a piece. then--i'll see." a rough tract of land lay between the clearing and the path. baranov went right ahead, striding along over fallen trees and bowlders, with smoke-wreaths from his pipe floating back over his broad shoulders. the forest was carpeted with deep, wet moss, into which the boys often sank to their knees; and more than once they tripped and nearly fell. the mountain-side was thickly wooded with spruce, yellow cedar and hemlock, the tough branches of which, wet with dew, twisted around their legs and swished into their faces. "i say--thomas," sung out fred, after ten minutes of this sort of work, "is that blanket--any lighter--than 'twas?" "not much! it's gained--five pounds." "what do think--of the--scenery?" the emphasis on the last word was caused by his setting foot on the slippery surface of a rock concealed by moss, and sitting down with great firmness. "well, it's a pretty good fall landscape," gasped tom, leaning against a stump, weak from laughter. but lo! the stump, like many others of its kind thereabouts, was decayed, and over it went, carrying tom with it. when the boys had struggled to their feet, they found that baranov had stopped just ahead of them, and was chuckling over their mishaps. "look here, old fellow," cried tom, "is it going to be this way all day?" "no, no," said baranov. "mebbe i oughtn't to hev laughed at ye. but i saw no harm was done. ye've got good pluck, both of ye, not to ask me to slow up before naow. p'r'aps i put on a leetle extra steam, to see what ye was made of--with that ar light blanket"-- "o-oh!" "but the wust on it's over, for quite a spell. thar's the reg'lar basin trail jest ahead. we can follow that for a mile or two, before strikin' off up the side of the maounting." it was a relief to walk in a traveled path once more, although it was a very rough one. it was just five o'clock when solomon called a halt, and announced that they were something over three miles from the wharf at juneau, having been a little more than an hour and a half in reaching this point. "isn't this a glorious spot!" exclaimed tom, throwing himself down beside the path. the ground was clear for a little way in front of them, and just beyond lay the silver bow basin, narrowing and winding far up among the mountains. on every side the forest-clad slopes rose in grand sweeps from the basin, and curls of smoke here and there floated up from camps hidden among the trees. "what's that noise?" asked fred, as a metallic clicking not far away fell upon their ears. "oh! thar's always somebody prospectin' raound with his pick," remarked the hunter. "you'll hear 'em all over the maountings, pretty much." close beside them a stream of crystal clear water rushed over its stony bed, across the path toward the valley. the boys unfastened their dippers and drank deeply. "have some salmon berries?" asked solomon. and he threw down a branch of the orange-colored fruit he had just broken off. "naow," he said, after a few moments' silence, "we must take to the woods. i gave ye that leetle piece of rough travelin' to kinder harden ye fer what was comin'. are ye ready, boys?" "all ready!" they cried, springing to their feet. "lead the way, solomon!" the hunter now left the beaten path and followed up the bed of the stream, which crossed it at right angles. it was hard climbing, and the boys had to stop for frequent rests. their tramp proceeded, however, without special incident for a couple of hours more, when baranov threw down his pack and called out "breakfast." i ought to have mentioned that a cold lunch had been prepared the night before, and the three trampers had partaken sparingly of it before starting. now, however, they had a sharpened appetite, and ate ravenously of the doughnuts, hard bread and sandwiches which solomon brought out of his stores. this halt occupied about an hour, so that it was nearly nine when they resumed their walk. their progress now became very slow. the picks of the miners were no longer heard, and they realized that they were in the veritable alaskan wilderness. the rush of the little brook was the only sound that broke the silence of the moss-draped and carpeted forest. they had passed beyond the brow of the mountain immediately overlooking juneau, and, while the grade was not quite so steep, the evergreens grew more densely, and the stream was so narrow as to barely afford them a pathway. of course their feet had been soaked during the very first hour of their climb. there was now not a dry stitch on either of the boys, below the waist. for a few rods, solomon had been peering here and there; tom afterward declared he fairly sniffed the air for game, like a hound. "what is it, solomon?" called out tom, picking himself out of a crevice between two wet rocks. the hunter held up his hand for silence; then stooped and carefully examined a log just in front of him. calling the boys, he pointed to it with one of his silent chuckles. fred adjusted his glasses and eyed the log critically. "it seems just a common, every-day log, don't it, tom?" he remarked in a guarded voice to that young man. it was a fallen hemlock, lying directly across their path. baranov laid his finger lightly on a small reddish spot, where the bark had been scraped off. "a b'ar did that," he whispered. "an not long ago, neither." the boys instinctively clutched their empty guns. "give me my rifle," the hunter said, in the same tone. "i must load her an' hev her ready in case we come on the critter sudd'nly. but i'll let you do your own shootin' ef i can. fred, you must take the ax naow, an' be awful keerful of it. carry it blade aout from ye, an' not over your shoulder. naow foller me as easy's you kin." they crept along, indian file, for half an hour or more. tom's foot sank into something that crunched under the moss. "snow!" he exclaimed; and indeed they all were standing on the edge of a huge snow bank. something about this appeared to please solomon very much, though the boys could not tell why. but now he was stopping and pointing again. ah! that was why the old hunter was gratified by finding that the trail crossed a snow bank. master bruin could pass through the thick scrub of the forest so deftly that even the keen eye of the best guide in juneau could hardly distinguish the course of his journey. not so when he crossed the snow. there was his track, plain enough. "my! don't it look like a boy's barefoot mark?" exclaimed tom, quivering with excitement. "is he near here, do you think, solomon? what sort of a bear is it? is he a big one?" baranov answered at once, as he shouldered his pack and rifle again: "the trail's abaout an hour old. he's a purty good-sized black b'ar, i should say. an' it's my opinion we can fetch him afore night." on they went, faster than before. indeed, the boys soon noticed that they were now following a sort of beaten track--no other, solomon assured them, than one of the famous "bear-paths," thousands of which thread the deepest and loneliest jungles of alaska. they halted for a hasty dinner and then pressed forward. baranov could not be positive that the same bear was before them on this hard track, but it seemed highly improbable that _ursus americanus_ had left his easy highway for the almost impenetrable growth of evergreens on either side. it was about three in the afternoon when baranov halted so suddenly that fred, who was next behind him, fairly tumbled against him, nearly upsetting the hunter. the latter, however, paid no attention to this. he was too much occupied in examining half a dozen hairs, which he had picked from a low spruce bough projecting across the path. "what is it?" the boys whispered eagerly, their fatigue gone in a moment. "look at them ha'rs!" "why, they're almost white! they are white at the tips." "the animil that went through here ahead of us, left 'em behind," said the guide. "an' it wa'n't no black b'ar, neither, as you can see for yourselves." "what was it--not grizzly?" the idea was not wholly a pleasant one, and the young hunters looked nervously around. "no, no; it's no grizzly. it's my opinion that a big silver-tip, a glacier b'ar, some calls 'em, is just beyond," rejoined baranov. "a glacier bear? i never heard of one before," whispered fred. "they're ugly fellers, an' mighty scarce raound these parts. the trappers north of here call 'em mount st. elias b'ars, because there's more of 'em there. the pelt's wuth double a black b'ar's. it'll be great luck ef we find one." this whole conversation was carried on in an undertone, and without further noise or delay, the party pushed on. at the end of half an hour's forced march they found themselves on a sort of level tableland, at a great elevation above the sea. here and there were patches of snow, and small glaciers could be distinctly seen on distant mountain slopes, toward the east and north. the scene near at hand was utterly desolate and forbidding. the bear path, too, had "ended in a squirrel track and run up a tree," tom declared. he was on the point of proposing a halt for a rest, if not for the night, when he caught sight of a grayish patch in a clump of low spruces about a hundred yards distant. he was sure it had moved while he was looking. his heart beat violently as he gave a low whistle to attract baranov's attention. the guide's eye no sooner rested on the object than he sank as if he had been shot. the boys did the same, and cautiously crawled to his side. "slip a cartridge into that rifle quick," he whispered to fred. "that's old silver tip, sure, an' ef we work it jest right, we can drop him. naow don't you move for five minutes. before long, you'll see him start this way. when he gets up to that rock over thar between them two leetle spruces, tom, you let drive. don't you fire, fred, till tom gets another cartridge in. an' ef you miss him, run fer your lives." before the boys could ask where he was going or what his plans were, the old hunter had disappeared in the undergrowth, taking his ax with him. the wind was blowing freshly from bruin toward them. in the course of a few minutes, which seemed hours, they saw the animal push his snout out from the boughs and sniff the air curiously. there was a strange scent, he thought, lingering about this mountain-top. what could it be? whatever its nature, it evidently acted like the reverse end of the magnet to the shaggy beast; for after a moment's uneasy moving about, he started off in a line which would carry him very near the ambushed hunters. on he came, crashing through the boughs and clambering nimbly over mossy bowlders. fred could feel that his companion was trembling from head to foot from excitement. "rest over that twig, tom," he whispered in his ear. "you can't get a shot if you don't." the two spruces were reached. bang! slam! went two rifles; for forgetting solomon's injunction, fred pulled the trigger almost at the same instant with tom. "hooray!" shouted a welcome voice in the direction from which the bear had come. "you've done it, boys! wait till i come before you go near him!" with arms and legs flying like a windmill, and ax ready, solomon came floundering along the bear's track. "dropped him, fust shot!" he called out again. "he's dead, sure enough--look out!" for at that very moment the bear struggled to his feet and made a mad rush toward his assailants. fred had thrown down his rifle at solomon's last shout, but tom had the presence of mind to level his reloaded piece and fire. then he turned to run, but bruin, making one last plunge, threw out his big paw. tom felt a sensation like a shovelful of red-hot coals dropped down his right boot-leg, and with a howl of pain and fright, tumbled headlong. had not solomon reached the scene at that very moment with his ax, this story might have had a sad ending. one mighty sweep of that terrible weapon, and the battle was finished. "are ye hurt, boy?" cried the hunter. "your last shot did the business, but i had to kinder second the motion. whar are ye?" tom sat up straight, shouted: "here i am! hurrah!" and with a very queer feeling in his head, rolled over on the moss. when he came to himself, the first thing he saw was solomon bending over him, chafing his hands and trying to force some kind of hot liquor down his throat. there was the tinkling of a tiny stream somewhere among the moss close by, and a big douglas fir stretched its boughs overhead. "where--where are we?" he stammered, trying to rise. "naow don't ye go to rushin' raound," counseled baranov. "i've lugged ye off a piece to a first-rate leetle campin' graound, an' all you've got to do is to lay still whar ye be, while fred an' i fix things a leetle." "is the bear"--began tom, trying to remember, and wondering what made his head swim. "he's right whar we left him, an' thar he'll stay i reckon, till we get ready to borrer his coat. got some kindling, fred?" "here you are!" called that genteel young man, staggering up with an armful of dry boughs. his hands were covered with pitch and his eyeglasses dangled from the cord. "halloo, you scarred old veteran, you!" he cried, dropping on his knees beside tom. "feeling better? what a clip he did give you!" tom, beginning to feel conscious of a score or two of bees stinging his right leg, looked down at that member, and was surprised to find his boot was removed and its place supplied by bandages. "you won't be lame more'n a few days," said baranov consolingly. "he only jest raked you with his claws. but the bleeding made ye faint, most likely. you're all right naow." it was very pleasant lying there and watching the other two in their preparations for the night. a roaring fire was kindled, and although the sun was still high, the warmth of the red flames was by no means unwelcome. slash, slash! went solomon's keen ax, and tree after tree came swishing down before its strokes. some of them he trimmed with a dozen clips to each, and bade fred carry the boughs into camp. as if by magic a framework of crotched sticks, props and rafters grew under the sheltering fir, boughs were piled on and across them, and by six o'clock there was a snug brush camp ready for occupancy, with a bed of fragrant fir boughs two feet deep. then came the firewood--larger trees, felled and cut into six-foot lengths. when a good pile of these had been provided, and not before, solomon drove his ax into the trunk of the fir, pulled on his coat, and sitting down on a small log which, running across the front of the camp formed a sort of seat and threshold to it, opened his bag and drew out a black coffee-pot. this being placed on the fire, he started off for the scene of the late battle. "i 'low we'll have a good b'ar steak to-night," he said, as he went. "i'll be back in a minute." while he is preparing supper for the two tired and hungry boys, we will return to the gentler portion of the family, and follow the _queen_ northward on its voyage. chapter x. on the muir glacier. "away up here!" it was bessie who was speaking her thoughts aloud, as she leaned upon the rail of the good steamer _queen_, and looked dreamily out over the blue water toward the mountains on the mainland. "'way up here, in alaska! really in alaska! i can't realize it!" she went on, turning to rossiter selborne, who was seated by her side. "just think, that shore over there is a part of the pink patch in the map of north america, in the very upper left-hand corner. and i've come all the way from boston, across the whole continent." it was indeed hard to realize that they were in those strange, far-away waters. near the ship, porpoises leaped merrily through the sunlit spray of the waves. now and then a queer-looking canoe shot by, paddled by dark-faced natives. on shore they could see only the pathless, boundless forest that stretched away for a thousand miles--an unbroken wilderness--towards the north pole. it was late on the afternoon in which they sailed from juneau. whatever anxieties had been harbored in mr. percival's own mind, he had been at some pains to conceal them from the rest of the party. "the hunters had simply tramped farther than they had expected," he said, "and found themselves too tired, after their first night in the woods, to reach the ship at the time agreed upon. for his part, he was glad they were not hurrying." although mrs. percival was by no means reassured by these remarks, and her husband's indifferent manner, she did allow herself to be somewhat comforted; and the younger folk easily fell in with his method of accounting for the prolonged absence of the boys. with real pleasure, therefore, all but one settled themselves to a thorough enjoyment of the new scenes constantly opening around them. [illustration: the davidson glacier.] on leaving juneau the steamer passed around the lower end of douglas island, and then headed northward once more, toward what is called the "lynn canal." the sun came out, warm and bright, so that although there was a strong southerly breeze, it was calm and comfortable even on the hurricane deck. an old alaskan traveler had come on board at juneau, taking passage to a cannery in which he was interested, farther north. there was also a family of thlinket indians, bound for the same port. the stranger pointed out various objects of interest, as they passed, including many glaciers which sent their white tongues of ice down to the sea front, dividing the dark forest that clothed both mainland and islands as far as the eye could reach. "that is the largest glacier hereabouts--the davidson," he said, "and the most interesting. it's something like three miles wide at the foot." "oh! that doesn't seem possible," exclaimed a passenger standing near by. "it doesn't look over a dozen rods wide. are you sure you are right about that, sir?" "do you see that dark strip lying between this end of the glacier and the open sea?" "where--o, yes! what is it--moss, or low bushes?" "those bushes are tall trees. there is a great terminal moraine two miles from front to rear, pushed out by the davidson, and a whole forest grows upon it. here, take this glass, and you can see for yourself." the skeptical passenger was obliged to own himself in the wrong, and the great, silent glacier--so motionless, yet forever moving toward the ocean--seemed more mysterious and terrible even than the enormous ice-stream of the selkirks. the _queen_ now made her way past the chilkoot inlet, where, said randolph, who had followed tom's example in "reading up" alaska, schwatka started to cross the mountains and explore the head-waters of the yukon. pyramid harbor, at the head of chilkat inlet, was now reached, and at this point, the farthest northing of the route, or, to be exact, at latitude ° ´, the steamer stopped her wheels, while the obliging stranger and the thlinkets went ashore in a small boat, which tossed perilously on the choppy waves of the inlet. slowly the steamer swung round, and, having picked up the boat on its return, began its southward course. the wind now swept the decks with stinging force, driving the tourists below or into sheltered corners. against the western sky towered the mighty peaks of fairweather and crillon, lifting their white summits nearly sixteen thousand feet above the sea. until late in the evening the percivals talked, laughed and sang, while the never-ending day still glowed brightly, and the waves tossed their foam caps in the golden twilight. * * * * * thump! bump! the girls woke next morning to find the ship trembling from stem to stern. had the _queen_ run ashore? no, they were going smoothly enough now. it must have been a dream, that that-- thump! that was no dream, any way, for they were wide-awake now. out of her berth jumped kittie, and, drawing aside the curtain from their little stateroom window, looked out. what a sight it was! the ship was moving cautiously, at half-speed, up a narrow bay--glacier bay, they afterwards heard it called--surrounded by bare and desolate mountains, along whose upper slopes lay dreary banks of never-melting snow, and whose splintered summits were hidden in dull gray clouds. across the bay, at its upper end, miles away, stretched an odd-looking line of white cliffs. they could not yet make out what gave them that strange, marble-like look. the surface of the water was all dotted over with floating ice, of every size and shape imaginable. just in front of kittie's window (which overlooked the bridge), the captain, in thick coat and fur cap, was pacing to and fro. even while she looked, the ship's bow struck against a good sized iceberg. again the steamer shuddered, and the girls knew now what it was that had waked them. "sta-a-arboard a little!" called captain carroll sharply, as another great berg loomed up, just ahead. "starboard, sir," repeated the quartermaster and the second officer. "stead-a-a-ay!" "steady, sir!" "port a bit!" and so it went on, as the _queen_ dodged now this way, now that, under the direction of the best pilot and captain on the dangerous alaskan coast. it did not take long, you may be sure, for the girls to finish their toilet and rush out on deck to see the fun. one by one the passengers joined them, wrapped in all sorts of heavy ulsters and coats. the air was like that of mid-winter, and the wind blew sharply. the _queen_ steamed up as near as the captain dared, and there, about an eighth of a mile distant from the head of the bay, she waited. now, indeed, was discovered the true nature of that line of marble cliffs. they were of solid ice, rising to the awful height of three hundred feet above the fretted sea, and stretching across the bay in a mighty wall. as the passengers gathered, shivering, on the forward deck, and gazed at this wonderful ice-river--the great muir glacier of alaska--some one gave a sudden cry, and pointed to an ice pinnacle just abreast the ship. with a majestic movement the huge mass of glittering ice, larger than a church building, loosened itself from the cliff, and with a crash like thunder, plunged into the sea. a few moments later and the staunch ocean steamer rocked like a little boat on the waves made by the falling berg. again and again the ice came tumbling down. sometimes immense pieces which had broken off from the bottom of the glacier, seven hundred feet below the surface, rose slowly and unexpectedly from the depths, throwing the water high in air. these bottom fragments were not white, but as blue as indigo. from their gleaming sides the water poured in roaring cataracts. "what are those sailors up to?" sung out randolph suddenly, pointing to a boat's crew that was leaving the side of the ship. "going to fill the refrigerator, sir," replied a steward, who caught the question as he passed. randolph thought he was joking; but sure enough, the men in the boat grappled a huge floating cake of ice, towed it to the gangway, and made it fast to a tackle and fall, which picked it up and swayed it over on the deck--a fine young berg of beautiful clear ice weighing something over two tons. quickly it was stowed below, and other pieces followed. although it was floating in salt water, the ice coming from the glacier was perfectly fresh. in this way about forty tons were taken on board and stored. after breakfast all who wished to do so went ashore in the steamer's boats, landing on a gravelly beach about a mile from the foot of the glacier. bessie was obliged to remain on board with her mother, the rest joining the shore-going party. leaving the beach they walked up over slippery rocks, gravel and protruding bits of black ice, until, before they knew it, they were on the glacier itself. its surface was roughened and stained, and every now and then they came to a wide crack or "crevasse" in the ice, with sloping, treacherous sides, its shadowy depths reaching no one knew how far below. to fall into one would have been almost certain death. "i wonder how thick this glacier is?" asked some one, peering down into one of these terrible crevasses. "about a thousand feet," was the answer. "the front of the glacier is over three hundred feet high, above the sea; that gives about seven hundred beneath the surface." "do you know how long it is, from the source to the front?" "upwards of forty miles, i believe. and a mile wide at the mouth." they could look up into the far-away, misty mountain valleys, and still the ice stretched beyond the utmost bound of sight. as the party retraced their steps, the gentleman who had volunteered the information regarding height and distance, narrated the interesting story of the discovery of the glacier by professor john muir. he told them how the intrepid scotchman, on reaching cross sound, had hired an ancient native guide and two or three indians to paddle his canoe up glacier bay. as the mountain slopes surrounding the glacier were known to be bare of fuel, the voyagers filled their canoe with dry cedar and pine boughs, that they might have camp-fires to keep them alive in that almost arctic atmosphere, and to cook their food. when the percivals reached the head of the moraine, they were so fortunate as to find the professor himself standing there, talking with friends. he was spending the summer, it seemed, in a rude hut not far below, and in company with some hardy young college students, pursuing new investigations in this marvelous land of ice and granite. leaving professor muir, after an introduction and a pleasant word or two from the famous explorer, randolph and the rest descended to the beach, not by the long muddy path by which they had come, but by striking downward through a deep gulley, which brought them scrambling, sliding and laughing to the sand below. on this narrow strip of seashore, where were lying great blocks of ice stranded by the ebb tide, they walked a mile or more beneath frowning ice-cliffs, to the very foot of the glacier, and indeed under it, for there was a sort of cave formed by the huge pinnacles of clear blue ice, and into this dismal opening the young people penetrated for a few yards, when a crackling sound in the gleaming walls made them rush for the open air again in mad haste. they were just in time to escape an ugly fragment of ice, weighing at least threescore pounds, which had become detached from the ceiling. after this experience they were glad to walk back to the ship, which was now whistling a recall to its absent children. on the way kittie stopped to trace, with the tip of her parasol, her name on the smooth sand. she began another, but after printing a large f, rubbed it out, and with a little addition of color to her cheeks, joined the rest, who were now tiptoeing across a narrow plank to the boat. steam was up, and the _queen_ began at once to work southward. for fifteen miles she wriggled her way out of the icebergs as cautiously as she had wriggled in. then the broad pacific came in view, and as the bell in the engine room rang, "ahead, full speed!" and the ship emerged from the narrow channels and gloomy, landlocked inlets of the north, the great billows softly rocked in their arms the _queen_ and its passengers, while they sang merrily, "out on an ocean all boundless we ride, we're homeward bound, homeward bound!" "what shall we see next?" was the question on every tongue that night; and "sitka! sitka!" was the answer. it was a comfort to get out into the open ocean again. they had sailed so long through narrow passages and between dark, lofty sweeps of mountains, frowning with cliffs of bare rock, or shadowy with silent ranks of pine and fir, that, like the delectable mountains in "pilgrim's progress," the hills seemed about to fall on them and bury the good _queen_ out of sight under avalanches and icebergs. all that night the waves of the pacific rocked them gently, as the ship made its steady way southward. what a volume it would make, if we could have the dreams of this party of a hundred souls on board the _queen_ for that one night printed--and illustrated! at six o'clock next morning randolph went on deck. the steamer was motionless, anchored about half a mile from shore. she was in a bay, which was thickly sprinkled with pretty, wooded islands, as far out as the eye could reach. fourteen miles away westward, rose the peak of mount edgecumbe, its slopes reddened with ancient streams of lava. it was of that exact cone-shape, with its top cut squarely off or "truncated," that marks a volcanic formation; and indeed, edgecumbe was smoking away furiously only a generation or two ago. the shore line was rugged, like all the southern alaskan coast, with a narrow strip of level land running along the margin of the sea. following this line the eye presently rested upon a collection of houses--quite a town, it seemed, just ahead. one large, square building was a hundred feet or more above the rest. a sharply-pointed church steeple rose from among the lower roofs of the other buildings. then randolph knew it was sitka, the capital of alaska. he had hardly recognized the place when he heard his name called from the water. rushing to the side of the vessel, he spied a boat coming swiftly toward the _queen_, rowed with a sharp man-of-war stroke by four sailors in neat suits of blue. in the stern sheets sat--could it be?--yes, mr. percival, tom and fred, all three waving their caps and shouting wildly. in another moment the boat was alongside, the gangway steps were let down, and fred sprang on board. mr. percival came more slowly, assisting tom, who was observed to limp. the sailors passed up several pieces of baggage, the officer in charge touched his cap, and away went the boat toward sitka. as she receded, randolph could read on the stern the single word in gilt letters, _pinta_. what wild handshakings and congratulations and volleys of questions followed on the deck of the _queen_, you can well guess. but we must let tom explain for himself his adventures, his return to civilization, and his unexpected appearance in sitka harbor that morning. chapter xi. fair sitka. "it was pretty dark and lonesome up there, i can tell you," said tom, having described his long tramp and the death of the bear. "the wind rose at about nine o'clock, and cut like knives. solomon had built the camp so as to face away from the wind, and after supper fred and i were glad to curl up in our blankets on the fir boughs. solomon threw half a dozen of his big logs on the fire, and then sat down on our front doorstep to have a smoke. "i wish you could have heard some of his stories, randolph! some years ago, before there was any canadian pacific, or even a northern pacific railroad, he guided a party across the chilkoot pass and down the yukon. they were on a hunt for a 'mountain of cinnabar,' a 'red mountain,' which an indian had told about, somewhere in the interior. there were women in the party, and how they ever got through the woods, i don't see. "well, they struck off from the yukon, after having a brush with the indians, followed a native map, had to winter in the woods, almost starved to death, and at last found the 'red mountain' was mount wrangell--a volcano, you know, twenty thousand feet high." "did they find their cinnabar?" asked randolph. "only a small quantity. but there was enough outcrop of copper and gold to pay them for the trip. they rafted down the copper river, after leaving solomon to locate, and a year or two later sold out at a big profit to some san francisco capitalists. so far as solomon knows, the mines have never been worked yet, they are so far inland." "now tell us about your getting home," broke in kittie. "we're more interested in that than in your 'red mountain.' did you sleep any, poor boys?" "not very much," laughed fred. "the mosquitoes settled down to business pretty soon after midnight, and made things lively. baranov had some pieces of netting, and we put them over our heads, but they didn't seem to do much good." "they say the alaskan mosquitoes are so intelligent," remarked rossiter, "that two of them will hold the wings of a third close to his body, and push him through the meshes of a net. that accounts for their neighborliness in your camp. go on with the story." "my leg hurt so that i couldn't sleep much," said tom, taking up the narrative again. "whenever i did dose for a few minutes, i would wake up with a start and see solomon putting on another log. i don't believe he slept a wink all night. "toward morning fred and i both got a good nap of nearly an hour. when i opened my eyes, i looked for solomon, but he wasn't in sight"-- "then of course he must wake me," interrupted fred, "and i had to get up and put wood on the fire, lest that his royal highness should feel cold. i had just got a good blaze going when baranov hove in sight, with a big bear steak in one hand and a string of trout in the other. "'where in the world did you get those fish?' tom sung out. "'oh! back here a piece, in a leetle pool i knew about,' says solomon. 'i 'lowed we'll have a dish o' fried traouts fer breakfast, ef the brook hedn't dried up.'" there was a shout at fred's imitation of baranov's tone. "the trout were delicious," said tom, when he could make himself heard; "and the flavor of the bear meat was all right, but 'twas tough as leather. after breakfast solomon skinned the bear in good shape"-- "where is the skin now?" put in bess. "i didn't see it in your bundles." "it's at juneau," said mr. percival. "solomon said he'd have it nicely dressed, and as soon as it was cured and prepared for mounting, he would ship it to our boston address. tom wanted it for a rug with the head on, and fred generously yielded all claim to it." kittie smiled such warm approval at his generosity that the young student blushed, and gave tom a dig to go ahead with his account of their adventures. "i was so stiff and lame that i could just hobble when we first started, right away after dinner. i knew father and all of you would be worried, but it couldn't be helped. we managed to get down about three quarters of the way, before it was time to stop for the night. of course it was ever so much easier going down than up, but it hurt some, you can believe! solomon helped me over the bad places, and fred took a double load. "we camped right beside the brook we had followed up the day before, and started on again before sunrise next morning. just as we reached the clearing above juneau, we met a dozen men, with father at their head, starting up the mountain after us." "what i want to know," broke in randolph, "is how you ever got to sitka as soon as we did?" "why, father made inquiries for a doctor, and was told the best one in juneau was the surgeon of the _pinta_. she's a government steamer, you know, stationed on this coast to look after our sealing and fishery interests and the like. dr. parks was awfully kind, and a splendid doctor, i guess, by the way he treated my bear scratch. he put some kind of a liniment on, then bound it all up in good shape, and wouldn't take a fee, either--not a cent. when he heard our story, he told father the _pinta_ was going to run over to sitka that very day, starting before noon. if we liked, he believed the captain would take us on board, and we could meet you there instead of waiting for you at juneau, and leaving you to worry all that extra time. "we said good-by to baranov--i don't know how much father insisted on paying him--went on board the little _pinta_, arrived safe and sound at sitka, and here we are!" as soon as tom had finished his story, he was showered with questions, and it was an hour longer before the party, having taken breakfast, assembled on deck to witness the approach to the wharf. another boat from the south, much smaller and dirtier, headed for her moorings at the same time. the _queen_, like a true king's daughter, permitted the other to pass her and make fast to the wharf. in stately wise, her majesty then moved quietly up beside her companion, and the percivals landed over the latter's decks. i will not try to describe sitka for you; in the first place, because other people have written and printed a great deal about it, which you can find for yourselves in the books on alaska on the third shelf of the fourth alcove of your public library; and secondly, because rossiter selborne gave his mother so concise an account of his impressions of the place, that i shall put a part of his letter into this chapter, as i did at banff. [illustration: the greek church at sitka.] after describing the buildings about the wharf, he told how he and one or two others walked directly up the main street to the famous church of sitka; continuing as follows: "the little church, long ago built by the russians (from whom, you know, the united states bought alaska for about seven million dollars in ), was a quaint building, with a solemn guardian, who demanded a small fee before he permitted us to enter. there was an altar arranged after the requirements and ceremonies of the eastern catholic church; some fine priestly robes, and a really beautiful painting of mary, the mother of jesus. services are still held in the church every sunday. "coming out of the church we walked along the narrow streets, looking at the houses built of squared logs by the russians many years ago. the building on the hill was of logs like the rest, and proved to be the castle of stern old governor baranov. i found pieces of bear's fur still sticking to the walls, where the great hides had once been nailed up, to keep out the bitter cold of winter. "such funny times we had buying trinkets of the indians, squatting in a long row on the broad sidewalk! all the english the indian squaws seemed to know was, 'one tollar!' 'two tollar!' "i must not forget to tell you about the mission school. you walk to it along the curving, sandy beach, near which the school buildings stand, about half a mile from the wharf. such fine, intelligent faces the boys and girls have, compared with the natives outside! it is beautiful to see the human, the divine, driving the animal look out of the dark faces, the eyes kindling with light, the whole, god-given soul waking up before your very eyes. the old fairy story of the fair princess, sleeping beauty, brought to life by the kiss of a prince, is pretty; but it will hardly move one, after seeing the wonderful awakening of a poor, sitkan woman-child, at the touch of loving hands--at the sound of her father's voice, speaking through the noble men and women who are doing his work in these desolate northern lands. "a little paper, the 'northern star,' is printed at the school, and gives all the latest items of news concerning it. it costs fifty cents a year, and the gentle lady who conducted us through the buildings was so pleased when two or three of us subscribed. of course the paper comes irregularly in the winter, when the sea-passages are dangerous with fogs and icebergs; but you are sure to get all your numbers sooner or later. "i wish you could have seen mr. percival sitting in the mission parlor, holding a dot of a thlinket child on each knee! one of them was named marion, and the other had a long, funny indian name that i forgot the beginning of, before she'd got to the end of it. "the scholars had a prayer meeting at the close of day, and sang our dear, familiar hymns with strange words to them. here is one verse of 'i am so glad that jesus loves me,' in the thlinket tongue: "'hä ish dickeewoo [)u]htoowoo y[)u]keh hä een ukkonniknooch dookoos[)a]h[)u]nne, thl[=e]koodze ut dookookwoo käd[=a] häteen: uh y[)u]keh kl[)u]h hutsehunne jesus. _cho._ uhtoowoo y[)u]keh jesus h[)u]tseh[)u], jesus hutsehun, jesus hutsehun; uhtoowoo y[)u]keh jesus hutsehun; jesus kluh hutsehun.' "it seems as if our father must smile tenderly when he hears such uncouth sounds. yet he understands them all, and answers each shyly murmured sitka prayer, just as he does the 'now i lay me,' lisped by new england baby lips. "the long, beautiful northern day drew to a close. we left the bustling town, and walking past the mission school, kept on around the shore of the bay. now the path wound in and out of the forest; now it emerged upon the beach, where the ripples softly patted the sand and laughed and played together. before long we reached the banks of indian river, and crossed it by a rustic foot-bridge. the air was fragrant with odors of balsam fir and all the cool, delicious scents of the forest. we turned back toward the ship. although it was near the hour of ten, the western sky was all golden with sunset. against it rose the delicate spire of the russian church, and the sturdy bulk of the castle. out across the bay the gulls and ravens wavered their slow way among the islands." chapter xii. the "chichagoff decade." "we have two whole days before us," said kittie the next morning, as she promenaded up and down the deck with fred, "and the steamer is going right over the same path we took in coming. can't we get up something new so as to have some fun?" "we might have charades, or tableaux," suggested fred. "but we should have to stay below, getting ready for them." "and we've had 'em all before," interpolated tom, who was stretched out at his ease in a steamer chair. "it's going to be pretty foggy, i'm afraid," said randolph, joining the group. "they say that will delay us, for we shall have to run half-speed, or stop altogether. do you see how thick it begins to look ahead?" they had left sitka in the early morning, and had only juneau to touch at--probably in the night--before reaching the coaling station of nanaimo, on vancouver's island. "why don't you get up a paper?" suggested mr. percival. "that's what arctic explorers do, i believe, when they are frozen in for the winter." "good, good!" cried pet. "and everybody in our party must contribute--except me!" there was a laugh at this, and kittie, seizing her friend around the waist, gave her a little impromptu waltz which set her hair flying and eyes dancing more merrily than ever. "what shall we call it?" was the next question. "'the alaskan herald.'" "'the northern light.'" "'the illustrated totem pole'"--this from the wounded warrior in the chair. all these names being rejected, they decided to leave the choice of names to the editor, to which position mr. selborne was unanimously chosen. "all contributions," he announced, "must be in my hands at five o'clock this afternoon. the paper will then be put to press, and will be read aloud at precisely eight o'clock, on deck, in front of stateroom (mr. percival's), if the weather permits; if not, in a corner of the lower cabin, after the supper table has been cleared." all that day the literary circle thus suddenly formed were hard at work at their manuscripts; and many were the gales of laughter in which the girls indulged, as they compared notes from time to time. the editor, it should be said, had laid down the rule that any contribution might be in verse or prose, but if the latter, it should not contain over twelve hundred words. one by one in the course of the afternoon, the manuscripts, signed by fictitious names, were dropped into a box provided by the editor, who was busy, meanwhile, not only with his own contribution, but in arranging an artistic heading for the sheet which was to form the first page of the paper. he had also furnished all the aspiring authors and authoresses with sermon paper of uniform size, so that the whole collection might afterward be bound together, if desired. evening came at last, and to the gratification of all concerned, the fog lifted, so that there was a bright sunset, which would render out-of-doors reading easy until after ten o'clock. the party accordingly met at the appointed spot on deck, having kept their plan a profound secret among themselves, so as not to have strangers present at the reading. mrs. percival sat just within the door of her stateroom, while the rest grouped themselves outside in various comfortable attitudes. the editor, with a formidable-looking flat package in his hand, took his position on the seat by the rail, where the light was favorable for reading. "i will first," he said, "pass round the title page of this unique periodical, merely premising that its simple and musical title was suggested in part by the name of the island, the wood-clad shores of which we were passing when the idea of the paper was first promulgated." the title sheet was accordingly inspected and praised, with shouts of laughter, by the circle of authors. fortunately it has been preserved, and can be given here in fac-simile, just as it came from the hand of rossiter and of his sister, who, he admitted, had helped him by drawing the lifelike designs with which it was embellished. the title chosen, as you see, was the "tri-weekly chichagoff decade." "why 'tri-weekly'?" asked pet and mr. percival together. "because," replied mr. selborne, in his gravest tones, "it has greatly interested your editor to see you all _try weakly_ to produce"-- the rest of the sentence was drowned in a chorus of outcries and laughter. "but," persisted mr. percival, "do you expect to sail these waters again, in just ten years from now? else, why is it the 'decade'?" "oh! that, sir, merely indicates that it is a _deck aid_ to cheerfulness." here tom collapsed and fell over upon randolph, murmuring that it was enough to give a _weakly-chick-a-cough_ to hear such puns. but such ill-timed levity was promptly suppressed. mr. selborne now squared his shoulders, and opened the reading with a short editorial, which he called his salutatory. it is seldom that an editor finds himself in the position of one who greets his friends with one hand and bids them farewell with the other; who combines, as it were, his welcoming and his parting bow; who enters the room and backs out of it simultaneously; who, in short, is obliged to write at one and the same moment, his salutatory and valedictory. such is the novel and mildly exciting task of the present incumbent of the editorial chair of the "decade." we greet most heartily the host of subscribers who are sure to flock to its standard; and we beg to assure them of the integrity of its aims, and the sound financial basis of this enterprise. we pledge ourselves to endeavor, at any cost, to maintain the high standard we have set up, and so long as the "decade" is published, to suffer no unworthy line to disgrace its fair pages. at the same time we feel obliged to give notice that this is the last issue of the paper. circumstances over which we have no control compel the proprietors to suspend its publication. the editor, in resigning his position, wishes to express his deep sense of the obligation under which his readers have placed him, in the universal and constant support they have given him and his assistants, from the very inception of the enterprise, and the kindly criticism with which he has always been favored. * * * * * the editorial was received with a round of subdued applause, which subsided the more quickly that the little circle around the reader saw curious eyes cast in their direction, and an evident inclination on the part of other passengers to share in the fun, which was, however, of too personal a nature to admit a general public. "the opening piece," remarked mr. selborne, "is contributed by a noted historian, who of late seems to have given his most serious attention to verse. i am glad to have the opportunity of laying before you this exquisite production, which gives an accurate review of our travels thus far, and, as the dullest reader must admit" ("don't look at me!" put in tom), "blends instruction with poetry with the most delightful result. the poem is entitled--with no reference, i believe, to the farming interests of the territories-- westward, ho! an historico-poetical review. by herodotus keats macaulay, a. e. "what does 'a. e.' stand for?" asked mrs. percival. "'animated excursionist,' i presume, ma'am." [illustration: reading the "chichagoff decade."] "alaskan editor," "expatriated amateur," and various other suggestions were kindly offered by the boys, but were frowned down by the older members, who now called for the poem itself. "one bright summer morning in early july our party assembled in boston, to try of travels abroad an entirely new version afforded by raymond & whitcomb's excursion." "hold on!" shouted tom, who was privileged by his lameness. "that's an ad. herodotus keats wants a free ticket next year. who is he, i wonder?" "thomas," remarked fred, eying him severely through his glasses, "don't display your ignorance of the great authors, nor interrupt with ribald comments. go on, please, mr. selborne." "i know now, any way," muttered the irrepressible. the editor paid no further attention to him, but resumed the reading: "the train was on hand in a place you all know well, the causeway street depot marked "boston & lowell"; it started, and cheers rose above lamentation as, waving our hands, we rolled out of the station. the daisies were white in the fields around boston, like meadows in autumn with garments of frost on; and fair were the skies over merrimac's stream, as onward, still onward, with rattle and scream, we flew o'er the rails ever faster and faster, with never a thought of impending disaster." "but there wasn't any disaster--unless the historian foresaw, in his prophetic soul, a certain bear"-- "oh! let up, ran. that's poetical license. macaulay couldn't find anything else to rhyme with 'faster.'" "arriving at weirs, on lake winnepesaukee, our iron steed stopped, and became sort of balky, backed, snorted and started again with such speed that some of us nearly 'got left' then, indeed! at the pemigewasset we halted to dine, then northward we sped to the canada line, where thomas was homesick until pretty soon he began to sing sadly of dear 'annie rooney.' in montreal all the attractions were seen; we dizzily whirled down the falls of lachine till we hardly knew whether 'twas memphremagog or the turbulent rapids of far caugnawauga." "oh!" groaned tom. "and now came the splendid canadian pacific-- through scenes now sublime, now tame, now terrific, past forests of fir, and along the wild shore and storm-beaten crags of lake sup-e-ri-or. there was such an outcry at this that the captain, who was facing the bridge, looked back to see what was the matter. "all right, captain," sung out randolph. "no iceberg in sight--only a queer kind of ore." "i'm glad it isn't mine," remarked tom. "the winnepeg grasshoppers followed miss bess entangling themselves in each silken tress, nor struggled for freedom, for when they were caught they thought them but meshes the sunbeams had wrought. "we halted at banff, where the bow and the spray come leaping from cradles of snow far away; and joining white hands, the bridegroom and bride glide silently down toward the sea side by side. "again we have entered our palace on wheels, and cry out anew, 'how homelike it feels!' the 'nepigon' broad and the stately 'toronto' we can never forget, not e'en if we want to; nor 'calgary' sturdy, and fair 'missanabie'; but nearest our hearts, there can no better car be throughout the whole world, whatever befall, than faithful old 'kamloops,' the dearest of all. "at glacier we saw the great river of ice, and a bear almost ate up a boy in a trice; while one of the girls gave her poor little ankle a twist and a wrench, whose twinges still rankle! at last we arrive at our long journey's end; the continent crossed, at vancouver we send one glance of regret and a farewell combined o'er the car we are leaving forever behind. "at our next stopping place we had to try hard to pronounce the name of our hotel 'dri-árd'; victoria's awfully english, you know, and nothing that's 'yankee' was found high or low, except our excursionists, everywhere seen until they embarked, northward bound, on the _queen_. we sailed and we sailed, through channels and reaches, past wild, rocky shores and verdure-clad beeches, until we emerged from the tortuous tangle and moored at the dreary old wharf of fort wrangell, where many a totem pole reared its proud head, once gorgeous in trappings of sable and red. "at juneau we halted--ah! how can i tell of all the adventures that shortly befell two hunters, who started out boldly to kill any sort of a beast that roamed on the hill. their perils and hardships, when distant from juneau and lost in the woods, i am sure that you do know enough that on meeting the enemy there, _venerunt, viderunt, vicerunt_--a bear! "since then our startling events have been fewer; we've mounted the glacier that's named after muir, and trembled to see its blue pinnacles fall in fragments before us, like jericho's wall. we saw all we could in the fair town of sitka, but could not go far for want of a fit car, and now we're sailing o'er frederick's sound, on board the good _queen_ safe and well, homeward bound!" the applause which followed this effusion was tremendous. it was suggested that the last half of the journey had been rather slighted; but mr. selborne explained that he had it direct from the author that this disproportionate treatment was caused by lack of time in which to fill out the poem as originally sketched. "the next piece," he continued, "was in the nature of an epic. it was certainly personal in its bearings; but so was every epic, and too much delicacy in an editor always results in an insipid periodical." the curiosity of his auditors having been thus aroused, he gravely read: the bear-hunter's fate. by an old subscriber. tom, tom, the valiant one, shot a bear and away he run; the bear was fleet, poor tom was beat, and bruin stepped upon his feet. "is that what kittie manes by my 'fate'?" shouted tom, laughing good-naturedly with the rest. "sure i knew something was brewin' when i saw her writing!" "the contribution i have now to read," said the editor, as soon as silence was restored, "is accompanied with an apology from the author, stating that for lack of original material he has drawn largely upon such printed sources as were at his command, in giving you a brief account of mysterious alaska. by darwin fitz-agassiz thompson. the interior of alaska is at present one of the few remaining habitable spots on the surface of the globe, which remain practically unexplored by the white man. a few years ago central africa held this distinction, but speke, grant, du chaillu, livingstone, stanley, and dozens of others have now penetrated those somber jungles, the land of mystery, the fabled abode of hideous monsters, giants and dwarfs, and soon a transcontinental railroad will connect zanzibar with stanley pool and the mouth of the congo. within half a dozen years, alaska has been similarly assailed, and at this very moment there are bands of intrepid men camping here and there in that lonely interior, and calling upon the hitherto impenetrable forests and desolate tundras to deliver up the secrets they have held for untold ages. doubtless many wonderful discoveries await these explorers and their successors. new plants will be found, mountains of precious ore, a vast wealth of timber and water-power, and, it may be, strange creatures hitherto unknown to science. it is believed by many that the mastodon, whose skeleton rears itself high above the elephant's, in our museums, is not entirely extinct, but actually roams the tangled thickets of inner alaska. it is stated that professor john muir himself lends countenance to this belief, asserting that he has seen the bones of these mighty animals, with the fresh flesh adhering to them. certain it is that the great, curved tusks of the mammoth (as it is sometimes called) are found all over the southwestern slope of africa, and that natives report encounters with huge living animals with similar tusks. an animal which is unnamed, save by the coast hunters hereabouts, is the "mt. st. elias bear," such as was shot by members of our party last week. the head is very broad, and the fur a silvery gray. the skin is highly prized, not only for its rarity, but for its beauty, and indians have been known to refuse a hundred dollars for one. they sometimes hang up such a skin in front of the "big house" of their village, as a talisman to aid them in future hunting, such is its magic power. within a few years the american bison, once so familiar in all stories of western adventure, has become almost wholly extinct. a few individuals are said to lurk in the meadows and high tablelands of alaska; but soon they must rank with the mastodon. i have had time to but touch upon the mysteries of our great northwestern territories. little by little its marvels, its wealth, its beauties will unfold to modern research, and the schoolboy of a generation hence will look back with incredulous wonder upon the maps, the charts and the scientific works upon alaska that alone are available to-day. * * * * * "i know who wrote that," said randolph, looking meaningly at the editor. the latter, however, took no notice of the implication, and, turning over the next sheet in the pile, read aloud the following poem, which was unsigned: a christmas carol. only a bird on a bough of fir-- look, can you see his feathers stir, and hear his wee notes, soft and low, echoes of songs of long ago? i am not bearing my cross, you see, for the cross itself is bearing me. when birds are frightened, or suffer loss, alone in the darkness, they fly to a cross, and never are heard to moan, "i must," but always twitter, "i trust! i trust!" for not a fluttering sparrow can fall but into his hand, who loveth all. lord, hear thy children while they pray, make us thy sparrows this christmas day. "bessie wrote that," whispered pet, glancing at the little captain, who did not deny the authorship, but smiled a little as she nestled closer to her father's side. "while i am reading verse," remarked mr. selborne, "i may as well read, though a little out of course, another short poem about sparrows. sparrows. from the orchard, sweet with blossoms, from the waving meadow-grasses, from the heated, dusty pavement where a tired city passes, rise the happy sparrow-voices, chirps and trills, and songs of gladness-- bits of sunshine, changed to music, brightening, scattering clouds of sadness. at the first fair flush of dawning, at the twilight's last faint shining, sparrows sing, through storm and darkness, never doubting nor repining. fluttering to and fro, wherever faith is fainting, life is dreary, bear they each his little message to the hopeless and the weary: "sparrows trust their heavenly father; centuries ago he told us we should never fall unheeded; in his love he would enfold us. "so we cast our care upon him, never fearing for to-morrow; and we're sent by him to help you, when your sky is dark with sorrow." "i think the assistant editor knows who wrote that," said mr. percival, glancing toward adelaide with a smile. "mr. selborne, it is getting rather late. how many more articles have you in the----?" "three, sir; and one of them is very short, being a four-line poem or quatrain. shall i read it now?" "if you please." "this poem is printed so neatly that the writer has evidently spent as much time upon it as the producers of some of the longer pieces," the editor remarked, holding the sheet for all to see. excelsior. by a. m. ateur. 'tis said that in life the most exquisite rapture lies not in possession, but striving to capture. be sure that the proudest success is in vain that helps not a loftier conquest to gain. "very well, tom," said fred seacomb approvingly. "the sentiment does you credit, my son. i recognize the authorship, however, by the style of print rather than the high moral tone of the poem." tom laughed with the rest, and to cover his retreat called for the next piece, which he knew must be by pet, as every one else but mr. percival was accounted for; and his was pretty sure to be a story. mr. selborne's voice became very gentle as he read the story of the three wishes. "o, dear! i wish i were a tall palm-tree on the borders of a desert, where caravans and missionaries and pilgrims would rest in my shade. then i should really be of some use in the world." that is what the pine said. "o, dear! i wish i lived away up on a mountain-top, where the wind always blows cold and clear, and the snows lie deep in winter. people would come from far countries to visit the mountain, and i would be a guide by the way. then i should really be of some use in the world." that is what the palm said. "o, dear! i wish i were a palm-tree down in the valley, where birds might build their nests in my boughs, and artists would make beautiful pictures of me. then i should really be of some use in the world." that is what the little stunted fir said, on the mountain-top. days and weeks came and went. the pine waited impatiently, and rustled all its branches in the autumn winds, and let fall its brown needles, until a thick carpet of them lay about its trunk on the mossy ground. and out from the moss peeped a few rough green leaves. the pine noticed that they were shivering in the november wind, and pityingly dropped a few more needles around them. when the storms of winter came, it stretched its broad, evergreen boughs above the leaves, and sheltered them with its shaggy trunk. the long, cold months passed at last, and it was spring. still the pine grieved and sighed because it could be of no use in the world. to be sure it had protected the timid, furry leaves so well that they had lived, and now bore in their midst a cluster of small pink blossoms. just before sunset a man with coarse, roughened features and a bad look in his face, came and threw himself down on the ground beneath the pine. his fists were clenched, for he was very angry about something, and, although the pine never knew it, he was being tempted to a terrible crime. as the man lay there thinking evil thoughts, and almost making up his mind to the wicked deed, he caught a breath of fragrance which made him for a moment forget his anger. it reminded him of home, of his boyhood, of a wee sister with blue eyes and waving golden hair, with whom he used to wander into the pine-woods near the old farmhouse and gather flowers. he looked about him, and his eye fell upon the pink flowers. "mayflowers!" he murmured half-aloud. and stretching out his hand he gathered them and held their pure, sweet faces up to his own. the fierce look left his eyes, and a strange moisture came instead. his lips quivered. he was thinking now of his mother. she had left her children for a far country while they were still tiny creatures. but he could remember her face as she lay in the darkened room, resting so peacefully. and some one--was it the little blue-eyed sister?--had placed a bunch of mayflowers-- the man rose, and placing a small green spray of pine with the blossoms, carried them away in his big rough hand. and the wicked deed was never done. the palm sheltered many weary travelers; but the greatest good it did was after it died. one day a stranger arrived and cut the tall tree down. from its broad leaves a hundred fans were made, and many were the fevered, throbbing brows that were cooled by the palm as its leaves, now hundreds of leagues apart, waved to and fro above the sufferers. so the palm, although it never knew it, was permitted to do the work of the master, refreshing and healing those who were sick with all manner of diseases. as to the fir, it tried to keep a brave heart, but it became more and more discouraged as not only months but years rolled by, and it grew no bigger, and could not see that it was of any use in the world. "so homely am i, too!" it whispered to itself, glancing down at its little thick, gnarled trunk and crooked boughs. its only comfort was in giving a shelter to such small birds, and even insects, as were blown about on these heights by the fierce mountain tempests. once it had a whole night of real joy, when a white rabbit, caught by the storm miles away from home, crouched under its boughs and lay there snugly, a warm, sleepy ball of white fur, till the sun called it home in the morning. "_o, schwesterchen, seh 'auf! 's ist ein tannenbaum!_" of course all firs understand german, and our little friend knew the child said, "o, little sister, look here! it's a fir-tree!" the next word it heard filled it with delight. it was the girl who spoke this time, hardly above her breath, "_weihnachtsbaum!_" which was only a queer way of saying, "christmas-tree!" they were, in fact, the children of a german peasant, who lived in a small hut far down the mountain-side. the fir did not know it, but in reality the peasant had been unfortunate of late, and had grown so cross and surly that he declared he would have no christmas in his house that year. and hans and gretchen had wandered away mournfully on the mountain-side to talk it over. the fir was so glad they talked german! if it had been french, now, i don't believe it could have understood them at all. "it is such a little one!" said hans. "and it has such lovely crosses at the end of its boughs!" said gretchen. (the fir never knew before that it had crosses. but there they were, sure enough.) "let's cut it down and try," said both together. so hans swung his small ax sturdily, and down came the tree. that is, it was too short to fall. it just tipped over on its side a little. well, to make the story short, the fir was carried down and decked out in such simple ways as they could provide without spending any money. when the peasant saw it for the first time on christmas eve--they had kept it for a surprise--he clapped his hands with delight, in spite of all his surliness. and that night, for the first time for many weeks, he brought out the old leather-covered bible and read a chapter before bed-time. and what chapter was it? why, the story of the first christmas eve, when christ was born in bethlehem. * * * * * as there was now but one article left, all knew that it must be mr. percival's. they therefore composed themselves to listen with much interest to the story entitled getting square with him. by the oldest inhabitant. "let that girl alone!" the speaker was a tall, slightly-built boy of perhaps sixteen. his eyes flashed, and his fists clenched nervously. "let that girl alone, i say, or"-- "well, or what?" sneered a coarse-looking fellow, some two or three years older than the first. "you needn't think you own this town, winthrop ayre, if you did come from boston!" and he once more advanced toward a neatly-dressed girl, who was timidly cowering in a corner by a stone wall and a high fence, to avoid the touch of her rough tormentor. the latter was supported by two more of his kind, and all three were evidently trying to frighten her by their fierce looks and rude words. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, mort lapham!" exclaimed winthrop indignantly, placing himself directly in front of the frightened girl. "deacon lapham's son might be in better business than insulting girls in the street." "so you want to put your finger in the pie, do you? here, fellows, let's give him a lesson!" winthrop noticed that the attention of all three was now upon him alone, and motioned to the girl to run. she moved slowly a few steps down the street, and then stopped. meanwhile the big bully raised his hand and tried to slap the city boy in the face. winthrop warded off the blow easily, and retreated into the corner where the girl had been. "you'd better keep away, mort," he said quietly, though his cheeks were hot; "and you, too, dick and phil. i don't want to fight, and now you've let the girl go, there's nothing to fight about, that i know of." "coward!" cried mort, enraged at missing his blow. "don't you wish you had your sunday-school teacher here to take care of you! she wouldn't let any one hurt you, would she, sonny?" the color in winthrop's face deepened, but he said nothing. he was rapidly turning over the question in his mind, whether miss kingsbury would want him to turn his cheek if three boys struck him at once. a tingling blow on that exact spot put to flight his meditations. his fist drew back impulsively, but he would not strike yet. he was in splendid training, this boy, and still stood entirely on the defense, knowing that the true hero is not he who fights for himself, like a brute creature, but for somebody else. "coward!" hissed mort lapham once more, cautiously keeping out of reach of the other's arm. "hit him again, phil!" as the three closed about him, a determined look in their ugly faces, the girl who had lingered irresolutely at a few paces distance, gave a low cry for help, and rushed up to the group as if to protect her protector. "take that!" shouted mort, throwing out his hand and striking her, perhaps harder than he really meant to, full in the face. before he had time to see the effect of his blow, there was a crash between his eyes, and the earth seemed suddenly flying up into the sky. as he lay on the ground half-stunned, winthrop, who felt that it was at last time to act, turned fiercely on his other opponents. surprised by the suddenness of his attack, they forgot the superiority of their numbers, and started backwards. another nervous blow from the slender young athlete, and phil was on his back beside his leader, while dick stanwood, tripping over a stone--purposely or not the boys never knew--went down ingloriously with the rest. above them stood young ayre, like saint michael over his enemies, panting and glowing. "oh! are you hurt?" asked the girl, hurrying up to "saint michael," and laying her hand on his arm. winthrop laughed. "well, i'm able to walk," he said reassuringly. then: "let's leave these rascals to come to their senses. may i see you home?" the girl flushed prettily in her eagerness. "you are so kind," she said. "i live just the other side of that hill, and if you'll come in a few minutes and see grandpa, i'll be very much obliged." "but your forehead," added winthrop, as they walked along the dusty road side by side, leaving their three late assailants to sneak off in the opposite direction; "i'm afraid that fellow hurt you, though i don't believe he meant to strike you so hard." "oh! it isn't much. i haven't told you who i am," she added shyly. "i know about you and your sister marie, over at the elms. your uncle ayre and my grandfather are dear friends." "then you must be 'puss' rowan!" "yes," she laughed; "though it's rather saucy for you to say it. my real name is cecilia." "excuse me, miss cecilia." "o, dear me! don't call me that, or i shall think you are speaking to somebody else. 'puss' i've always been, and 'puss' i must be, i suppose!" and she gave a comical little sigh, ending in another ripple of laughter, which was very pleasant to hear. "yes," she went on, more soberly, "i've heard how your sister was ill, and you brought her here for her health, to stay all summer. may i come and see her? she's just about my age, grandpa says." "do! it will do her good, i'm sure," replied winthrop warmly, glancing at his companion's pretty face and sunny curls. puss blushed a little, and suddenly became very demure. "here's grandpa's, where i live," she said, pausing before an old, gambrel-roofed house. "won't you come in?" all the houses in taconic were pleasant inside and out. this one looked particularly so. "thank you; just for a minute," said winthrop, walking up with puss between two rows of lilac bushes. the girl led him into a cool, old-fashioned parlor, which had shells on the mantel-piece, and great, irregular beams in the ceiling. mr. rowan, a silvery-haired gentleman, with much stately dignity and kindly manner, soon entered, and talked pleasantly with the boy, of his uncle's younger days and winthrop's own affairs. altogether a half-hour passed very quickly, and winthrop was sorry to feel obliged to take his leave. puss went down to the gate with him. "be sure to tell your sister i am coming to-morrow," she said. "and you'll call again here yourself, won't you? i shall not soon forget how you took care of me!" winthrop drew himself up and lifted his hat in elegant city fashion; which, however, only made puss laugh and shake her curls. "it's no use to be the least bit dignified with me," she said merrily, "for i don't know what to do back. we just shake hands, here in the country, and say good-by." "good-by," said winthrop, taking her little brown hand with mock solemnity. "good-by," laughed puss, "that's better. don't forget your message!" as winthrop walked rapidly toward his uncle's house, he went over and over the exciting events of the afternoon. he had only arrived about a week before, but he had already come in contact with the three boys who had been amusing themselves by rudely teasing miss cecilia rowan, the gentlest and prettiest girl in the village. they were notorious, he had soon found, for their ill-behavior and rough manners, and had even been suspected of certain petty thefts in the neighborhood. winthrop could not help feeling that he should hear from them again. the meeting between his sister and puss rowan took place the very next day, and the two girls were almost immediately warm friends. as winthrop had predicted, puss's bright face and winsome ways won the heart of the pale city maiden at once, and "did her good," too. one or two pleasant afternoons they passed together, and several delightful trips were planned. one of these was a small lunch party, to a favorite spot for the village young folks, called "willow brook." it was about four miles from taconic corner, and the road to it lay through deep woods, adding an enjoyable drive to and fro, to the pleasures of the day. willow brook is a noisy little stream that comes dancing down from a spur of the white mountains, finding its way through a heavy growth of spruce and fir, over half a dozen granite ledges, and so onward until it reaches the upper taconic meadows, where it suddenly becomes demure and quiet; but, nevertheless, is all dimples when the wind whispers to it through the sedges, or teases for a romp under the shadow of the birch-trees that line its bank here and there. at length it reaches a small picturesque valley, where the hills, though by no means lofty, perhaps remind it of its mountain childhood; for there it pauses, and holds in its bosom the pictures of the gently rising uplands, with their peacefully browsing flocks of lambs--and gathers white lilies, and so rests a while from its journey. at times, it is true, a dimple of the old-time fun, or an anxious shadow as it hears the roar of machinery and busy life beyond, hides the treasured secrets of its heart, but as the ruffled brow smooths, you can see again in those quiet depths, lambs, lilies, fleecy clouds, alike snowy white and beautiful. the mill had stood at the foot of "lily pond," where the road crossed the stream, nobody knows how long. there was an old-fashioned dam, built of a few logs and a good deal of earth and rock, now overgrown with grass and bushes up to the very sluiceway of the mill. the waste-board, over which the water flowed in a thin, glistening sheet in the early spring when the pond was high, was scarcely more than ten feet long. about a hundred feet further down the stream was a shady grove of willows and other trees, growing down close to the water's edge. toward this spot winthrop with his sister, puss and her father rode merrily enough that hot july day. mr. rowan did not go down to the grove at once, but, having let the young people jump out with their baskets at the lily pond bridge, drove on to a neighbor's to transact some business, promising to join the party at lunch a half an hour later. winthrop assisted his sister carefully down over a steep embankment to the willows, puss springing ahead and calling to her companions that she had found "a lovely place right beside the water." baskets and shawls were soon safely stowed away, and winthrop, with the help of the girls, arranged a sort of shelter of boughs. when a small fire had been kindled on a flat rock just in front, puss laughed with delight, and marie's delicate face showed a glow of healthy pleasure, which her brother noted with quiet satisfaction. plainly taconic life was bringing the frail invalid back to strength and health. leaving the girls to chatter over the beauties of the place and their plans for the coming weeks, winthrop strayed down stream a few rods, following a cat-bird, whose whimsical calls led him to suspect a nest among the alders which lined the river at that point. the bird kept persistently out of sight, but repeated its cry in a more and more distressed tone, until winthrop reached the very heart of a thicket. "i've got you now!" he said aloud, as he stooped and thrust aside a mass of foliage. then he started to his feet. he had very nearly laid his hand on--not the pretty, rounded nest of the gray-winged thrush, but the evil, grinning features of mort lapham. "i rayther guess we've got you this time, my boston daisy," said mort, rising in his turn. "tie him up, fellows!" the ugly youth's two boon comrades sprang forward from the rear, and before winthrop could offer the slightest resistance, entangled as he was in the tough, slender stems of the alders, he was bound, hand and foot. "what are you going to do with me, phil bradford?" asked the prisoner quietly, though his heart sank as the three cowardly assailants hurried him roughly through the underbush. "you'll find out soon enough," growled the other, who had not forgotten the blow given in defense of the girl by the roadside. they emerged presently in a little opening that crowned a bluff, some half a dozen feet or more above the surface of the river, where it here made a sudden bend toward the steep bank forming at its base a deep, black pool, with here and there a few pine needles turning slowly in its eddies. in all this time winthrop had not uttered a cry. he would not alarm the girls unnecessarily, and might include them in his own dangerous situation. "now," said mort, with a cruel leer, "we'll square up our accounts. the next time i'm having a little fun on my own account, i reckon you'll mind your own business!" with these words he proceeded to tie his victim firmly to a stout young pine that grew close to the edge of the bluff. they placed his face to the trunk, and clasping his hands around it, lashed them tightly together. "i say," interposed dick, as he saw the cords cut into the captive's wrists, "you needn't pull 'em so tight! don't you see--you're hurting him awfully!" winthrop set his lips together, and said nothing. "hurting him!" repeated mort savagely. "i guess he'll wish he wa'n't hurt any more'n that, before i get through with him! gimme that whip!" "don't whip him!" cried dick again. "we've scared him enough, now. you said you only wanted to frighten him, mort." "git out o' the way, will you? i'm running this job, and this slim sunday-school chap from the city has got to have a little more scarin' yet." "but"-- "if you don't want a taste yourself, you'll keep quiet, dick stanwood. phil an' i'll duck ye in the river, 'f you say much more!" "all right," said dick, who evidently regretted his part in the matter. "if that's all the thanks i get, i'm off!" and turning suddenly on his heel, he walked away through the woods. "hold on! stop him, will you, phil?" cried mort angrily. but dick had hastened his steps and was already out of sight. still winthrop said never a word. his face was white, and the two guards thought he was too frightened to speak. "strip off his coat and vest," commanded mort, brandishing the whip. phil obeyed his leader like a lamb, untying the captive's hands cautiously, and, with mort's aid, fastening them again more securely than ever. "now, then, here's one for interfering between me and the girl!" down came the leather lash across the thinly clad shoulders. "one more for the lick you gave me between the eyes!" again the stinging, burning blow. still winthrop did not cry out. "you want some more, do you?" cried mort, enraged at his victim's silence. the lash was raised again. as mort raised and swung it, to give the full force of the blow, he stepped backward. the embankment, long ago undermined by the river, crumbled under the bully's feet; with a shriek of terror he toppled over, and disappeared beneath the black eddies of the pool. winthrop could not see what had happened, for his back, now smarting as if living coals were bound to it, was toward the bank. from the sound of the falling earth, the cry of his tormentor, and the loud splash that followed, he guessed what had occurred. "untie me, quick!" he shouted to phil, who stood gazing stupidly at the whirling bubbles where his leader had disappeared. "no, cut the rope--take my knife out of my pocket!" phil, who was always ready to follow the party in power, obeyed mechanically. in a few seconds winthrop was free. "can't he swim?" he cried, kicking off the last coils of the rope, as mort rose, screaming and splashing to the surface, and went under again. "not a stroke," said phil stoically. "serves him right, don't it? say, win, i'm awful sorry"-- but he was apologizing only to the pine-tree and the cut cords. winthrop had sprung into the pool, and even now had his late assailant by the collar and was striking out for the shore lower down, where the bank was not so high. "don't drown me!" yelled mort, rolling up his eyes. "i didn't mean"-- "stop kicking--you're all right!" gasped winthrop. "there--put your feet down--can't you touch bottom?" "winthrop, my lad! here--give me your hand!" cried a new voice; and puss's father leaned perilously far over the bank to assist the boy. at the same time phil and dick--the latter of whom had brought mr. rowan to the scene--helped the choking, crest-fallen, dripping mort to his feet. "what does this mean?" demanded the older man sternly, surveying the cords and whip. "o, winthrop!--brother!" and the two girls came hurrying down to the river's edge. winthrop tried to toss on his coat, but did not succeed before the stains on his poor, smarting back told the story to his sister's anxious eye. of course the picnic was ended for that day. the whole party hurried to the wagon and drove home. on the way, winthrop begged mr. rowan not to have either of his late captors prosecuted, or punished in any way. "i'm satisfied," he said, "if they are." "well, i'm not!" burst out mort suddenly, "and i sha'n't be, till i get square with you somehow!" the girls turned and looked at him in new amazement and terror. but winthrop understood him better. "all right, old fellow," he replied simply, holding out his hand to the other. mort grasped it and said no more. * * * * * "good story, father!" called out tom, whose voice, whether for approval or criticism, was never wanting. "i'd like to know how mort got square with him, though." mr. percival laughed as he rose. "that is not of so much consequence. in such a case, 'the readiness is all.' does that finish the paper, mr. editor?" "it does," said selborne gravely. "and the publication of the 'tri-weekly chichagoff decade' is suspended until further notice." chapter xiii. homeward bound. the voyage southward proceeded without special incident. "glaciers" were gradually left behind, but "gulfs" and bays, channels and narrow passages were still a part of the programme. the day following the reading of the "decade" was sunday. mr. selborne at the request of many of the passengers, preached in the cabin, the percivals organizing a choir which led the singing with their clear young voices. on monday the _queen_ reached nanaimo, a city and coaling-station for ships, on the east shore of vancouver's island. tom and fred hired a team and drove half a dozen miles inland to a trout-brook of which they had heard. tom could not walk about much, but he enjoyed the ride immensely, and when they reached the brook he limped along the bank to a shady spot, from which he shouted various comments, disparaging and otherwise, on his companion's methods of angling and rather limited success. they returned tired but happy, with a dozen silvery little fish as trophies. in the late afternoon randolph and pet headed a party to explore the city, which they found a hot and dusty one, but, in its upper portions, abounding in wonderfully bright flowers. at one garden they stopped and bought a great ball of nasturtiums. it was nearly twilight, and as the travelers leaned against the fence, idly watching the owner of the garden as he gathered the nosegay, they saw whole flocks of evening primroses opening their wings like yellow butterflies, one by one. this gardener, it seemed, was a blacksmith, employed by day in a coal mine which ran out half a mile under the sea. his business, he said, was to keep the mules shod. the shaft of this great mine came up in the outskirts of the town, and the percivals, earlier in the day, had seen the huge buckets come rushing up from the bowels of the earth, six hundred and forty feet below, laden with coal and streaming with water. the evening was memorable for a row in the harbor to an indian burying-ground, where strange and hideously carved figures kept watch over the neglected graves. until a late hour, after their return from this boating excursion, the party remained on deck, talking over the events of the day. "do you know," asked tom, "how this place started?" "well?" said mr. percival, who was always pleased to have his boy thorough in looking up the history of a place. "an englishman named richard dunsmuir, was riding horseback along a trail back on the mountain. the horse stumbled, and when dunsmuir came to look at the log or stone, it was coal. he started a big mine, with two partners who put in about five thousand dollars apiece. a few years later one of them sold out to dunsmuir for two hundred and fifty thousand, and afterward the second one sold for seven hundred and fifty thousand." "whew!" whistled randolph. "i say, tom, let's give up latin and go into the coal-mining business." "all right," says tom cheerfully. "you buy a horse and gallop through the woods till you both tumble down. then i'll pick you up, point out the coal--if it doesn't turn out to be a stump--and we'll go halves. or i'll sell out now for ten dollars and fifteen cents!" just as the steamer cast off her fasts and started her paddles, selborne announced that the bright sky had, as usual, cajoled them into keeping late hours, for it was now nearly eleven, and in four hours it would be daylight again. whereupon the deck party broke up. next morning they found themselves at victoria, where they stopped long enough to complete their purchases of miniature totem poles and other indian curiosities, which were displayed for sale upon the wharf. all through that bright day the _queen_ ploughed her way southward through a blue, sunlit sea. it was puget sound, said tom, the cartographer of the occasion. they touched at port townsend and at seattle. at the latter port the ship left half her passengers, as the excursion was too large to be quartered at one hotel. the rest, including the individuals in whom we are specially interested, kept on to tacoma. here they said good-by to the _queen_--now as homelike as the "kamloops"--and took up their abode in a large hotel which they found to be delightfully situated on high ground, with a broad, cool veranda overlooking the sound. immediately after supper tom rushed out to have his kodak refilled. he had already taken nearly a hundred pictures, and reveled in anticipation of showing them, especially the instantaneous and surreptitious views of his unconscious relatives and friends, together with many captive bears, to an admiring circle during the coming winter. the following day was spent in riding about the city, the planked streets and sidewalks of which struck them as very odd, and in visiting the indian reservation at puyallup, a few miles distant. the country was very dry, and forest fires were smouldering all along the road. at seattle, the next stopping-place, the historian ("i'm a regular 'pooh bah' on this trip," exclaimed tom) was called on for statistics concerning the city. "be accurate, my son," added fred; "but above all, be brief." "population rising forty thousand," rattled off tom, who had his lesson well this time; "twice destroyed by fire, the last time in . now nearly rebuilt again. situated between a big body of fresh water called lake washington, and puget sound. always fighting, good-naturedly enough, with its rival tacoma." oh! the dust, the dust. it lay in the streets four inches deep. it filled the air at every step, and powdered the pretty traveling dresses of the girls. but it was a wonderful city, with its push and rush and fever of building and money-getting. to-day a vacant lot, to-morrow an eight-story bank building; to-day a peaceful bit of upland pasture, to-morrow a huge hotel, crowded with guests from all parts of the world. "nobody can stop to walk, or even ride in carriages," observed bess. "it fairly takes away my breath here. you get into a cable car and whirl off at ten miles an hour, up hill and down dale. do they ever sleep, do you suppose?" the percivals had a really enjoyable excursion to lake washington, where they sailed and steamed to their hearts' content. a cable car took them to and from the lake, and beside the road they could see lots of land offered for sale at high foot-rates, with tall forest-trees still standing in them; others, partly built upon, and occupied by fine dwelling-houses, with the back yard full of charred stumps. the busiest streets of the city, like those of tacoma, were "paved" with four-inch planks. electric cars, as well as those run by cable, dashed to and fro with startling speed. the air was so filled with smoke from forest fires that ships in the harbor could hardly be distinguished from the shore. a day's ride through a wonderfully fertile country brought them to portland, oregon, where randolph's first move was to hunt up bert martin. bert and susie were overjoyed to see their old friends. they lived in a pretty cottage not far from the railroad station, and randolph had to bring kittie, pet, tom, fred and bess to take tea with them. when supper was finished, and the young people had talked over the dear old latin school days, and the gay summer at the isles of shoals, bert got a step-ladder and gathered handfuls of red roses from the trellis over the front door, where they grew in true oregonian abundance. tom and susie got on marvelously well together, and the former showed a singular eagerness to have bert correspond with him, after he should have arrived home in the east. from portland the managers had provided their travelers with a little two-day side trip to the dalles. they rode in the cars all one afternoon along the southern shore of the columbia, stopping to scramble up a steep hillside to the foot of the beautiful multnomah falls, and arriving at dalles just after dark. randolph and fred were the only ones who cared to explore the town, which they conscientiously did, traveling miles, they averred, over the plank sidewalks, and hopelessly losing their way on several occasions; but turning up in good season at last at the depot. the train was side-tracked here, and tooting and puffing engines, shifting freight cars, kept sleep from the eyes of most of the party. at daybreak they rose and made their way sleepily down to the river, where a steamer was waiting for them. back they went, down the river to portland. a thick fog hid the "mountainous and precipitous cliffs" and "bold headlands" which the guide-book promised them. wearily they boarded the cars standing ready at the portland depot, and took possession of their comfortable compartments and drawing-rooms for their eastward journey. the next morning found them at tacoma, and then on the northern pacific, striking across the new state of washington. the cascade mountains--a long and insurmountable barrier between east and west--had to be crossed, and up went the train, curving, groaning and winding, as the canadian pacific had through the rockies. "longest tunnel in america except the hoosac!" screamed tom above the din of the cars, as they plunged into the "stampede." "nearly two miles from end to end, and half a mile above the level of the sea." and now came the most wearisome part of the homeward journey. the sun rose in a cloudless sky, and disclosed only hot, treeless, rolling prairie as far as the eye could reach. in the cars the mercury stood at ninety-six degrees, and linen dusters were once more brought to light. in the evening they reached spokane falls, and set forward their watches one hour. it gave the travelers a queer sensation to arrive at a station at nine o'clock, stop half an hour, and start on at half-past ten. the following day they recrossed the rocky mountains and descended the eastern slope, through a pleasant farming country, to the city of helena. here there was a stop of several hours, and the boys had a good swim in the great tank which was fed by hot springs. when they were on board the train and in motion once more, tom was called on for the "probabilities." "to-morrow morning," he announced, "we shall be in cinnabar, seven miles from the mammoth hot springs. there we shall divide up into parties, and 'do' the yellowstone park in four-horse mountain-wagons, taking about five days for the job. it's going to be one of the biggest things on the whole trip, too." but we must leave yellowstone park, surnamed "the wonderland of america," for another chapter. chapter xiv. wonderland. "hurrah!" cried tom, who had now fully recovered from his recent unpleasantness with the silver-tip. "hurrah! here we are in cinnabar." he had jumped from the car, and was tapping at kittie's curtained window. kittie waved her hand to signify assent and keep him quiet, and before long all the passengers were hurrying through their breakfast and preparing for the long coach journey through the park. while this is going on, in the now motionless northern pacific train, we have time for a few words regarding the great reservation itself. about one thirtieth of the new state of wyoming--the extreme northwest corner--is reserved by the united states government for the "yellowstone national park." nearly the whole area thus set apart remains a virgin wilderness, traversed only by rough and narrow carriage roads, and hardly affording shelter to the increasing number of tourists each summer in its hastily erected hotels. the whole park is about the size of rhode island and delaware combined. the government, through the secretary of the interior, has issued certain regulations regarding the conduct of travelers in the park. these relate chiefly to camping, destroying trees, etc. one of the most stringent rules forbids the discharge of firearms within the limits of the reservation. mounted soldiers of the regular united states army are scattered all through the park, doing police duty; and if you are caught firing a gun, or even having one (unsealed) in your possession, good-by to your fowling-piece and good-by to the park. the former is at once confiscated, and you are marched out of the latter without ceremony. those travelers who wish to take firearms are obliged to have the lock sealed by a government official, at the entrance of the park. the result of this wholesome regulation is that wild game of all sorts is on the rapid increase, in this favored spot. about one hundred and fifty buffalo, the remnant of the immense herds that once roamed the western prairies, are peacefully quartered somewhere among these wild hills--nobody knows exactly where. most of these facts tom hastily repeated to his companions in the "broadwater," as the dining-car was called. the ride over to mammoth hot springs was full of interest, the road following a wild mountain-stream, and finding its way farther and farther into the wilderness. at one point an exclamation from randolph called the attention of the rest to an eagle's nest on a jutting cliff that almost overhung the road. the heads of the young eagles could be plainly seen over the edge of the nest, and far overhead soared the parent birds. on making up the wagon parties at the hotel, the percivals found to their delight that all could go in one team, including mr. and miss selborne. off they went with shouts and cheers, leaving the wonders of the "mammoth" district for their return trip. up and up, along the edge of frightful precipices, where the road was built of planking, with great props, sheer out around promontories of rock; up and up, to the high tablelands of the park; through evergreen forests, along silent lakes, haunted by beavers and strange water-fowl; beside black cliffs of volcanic glass, or "obsidian"; across unbridged streams where the horses plunged into the swift-running waters, and the wagon lurched from side to side, hub-deep in the flood. so onward until they had covered twenty-two miles, and reached the norris geyser basin, where dinner was served in a long, shed-like structure called a hotel. as soon as the meal was over, the young people hurried ahead on foot, to see their first geysers. a quarter of a mile walk, and a sudden turn of the road brought them into view. strange, uncanny things they were, bursting upward at intervals through the treacherous and chalk-like "formation," and throwing their jets of steaming water into the air with hollow gurgles and growls from their hot throats. the atmosphere was charged with sulphurous odors, and while the travelers were fascinated with the novelty and mystery of the scene, they were glad to enter their wagons once more and press forward on their journey. they all felt the rarity of the air, being about a thousand feet higher than the summit of mt. washington, above the level of the sea. it became very cold, too, as the sun went down. the girls were glad to don their sealskin capes, and the boys turned up their coat-collars. eighteen miles over the wildest country they had yet seen, brought them to the lower geyser basin. that night the hotel was so crowded that each room was shared by three or four occupants. tom, randolph, fred and rossiter were allotted to a chamber in an outbuilding. they had to reach it by an outside stairway, and i grieve to state that all four--not excepting the reverend rossiter selborne--told stories and laughed over them until very nearly midnight. next morning rossiter left the room before the boys were up, and walked out in the clear, cold air. he had not taken a dozen steps when he saw bess and kittie emerging from the main building, which was dignified by the term "hotel." hailing them merrily, he was soon at their side, and the three walked down to the firehole river, from whose sulphurous waters there arose a warm, faint odor, as it foamed along its white-and-yellow-streaked bed. over they went, one by one, on a narrow log bridge to the further bank, which they followed down to a little fir grove. there they had a tiny camp-fire, taking great precautions to keep the blaze down and use only dry twigs, so as not to make a smoke. after breakfast the teams were ready again, and the journey was resumed. for twelve miles they rode among geysers and springs, through low fir woods, over chalky formation, to the upper basin, where they were to spend the night. on the way, it should be mentioned, they stopped to view a singular mud spring, called the "mammoth paint pot." there was a bowl-shaped crater nearly filled with gray, pasty mud, through the surface of which great bubbles slowly forced themselves, as in a boiling kettle of molasses candy, nearly done. as one of the guide-books said, there was "a continuous bubbling up of mud, producing sounds like a hoarsely whispered 'plop, plop.'" travelers were further informed that these bubbling circlets of mud fell into beautiful floral forms; but kittie could find in them no resemblance to anything but electric bell knobs; while her mother plaintively declared they looked like nothing so much as old-fashioned doughnuts. that evening tom caused great merriment at the supper-table by gravely asking mrs. percival to "pass the plops," he having previously ordered doughnuts for that purpose. but if i were to tell you of all the wonders the percivals visited and heard with their ears and saw with their eyes, i might be accused of writing a guide-book myself. i can only add that during the next forty-eight hours our friends became intimately acquainted with a dozen or more great geysers, knowing their names and the times for their appearance to the hour, if not the minute. there was the "excelsior" (this was passed on the right between the lower and upper basins), the largest geyser in the world; the "giant," throwing a huge volume of scalding water high into the air every eight days; the "grotto," with a crater of strange, irregular walls as if built by gnomes; the "castle," to the brink of which two of the girls climbed and gazed fearlessly down into the terrible throat; and "old faithful" which spouts a hundred feet once every sixty-five minutes, and has probably been as prompt as a clock, scientific men tell us, for the last twenty thousand years. a comical incident occurred as the party were standing near the last-named geyser waiting for it to "erupt." tom had timed it by his watch, and had given out word that it would begin to play in just three minutes and a half. while the words were on his lips, a man was seen approaching from a camp near by, carrying a bucket and some clothes which he evidently intended to wash in warm water from one of the many pools near the crater's mouth. it was then merely a hole, some four or five feet in diameter, from which came occasional wreaths of steam, and an ominous gurgling growl which the new-comer disregarded altogether. "you wait!" cried tom to the rest. "he isn't near enough to get hurt, but he'll be about the most astonished man in wyoming in just one minute and three quarters." the camper proceeded to dip up a bucket full of water with great coolness, and, having taken a comfortable seat on a ridge of "formation," was just proceeding to immerse his wash, when up came "old faithful's" head. in less time than it takes to tell it, the great, roaring, boiling jet was hurling itself far aloft, and descending in floods of hot, sulphurous water. the man had given one startled look over his shoulder at the first outbreak, and then fled like a deer, leaving his property to be reclaimed later in the day. the sight of his ludicrously startled face and flying heels was irresistible, and the boys screamed with laughter. beside the great, active geysers, there were multitudes of hot springs, some of them many feet wide and deep, with treacherous, overhanging banks and exquisitely tinted depths of turquoise and sapphire, through which arose a continuous train of silvery bubbles. there was a story told, that summer, of a lady who had neglected the precautions which others took, and straying carelessly among these springs, broke through the thin crust of sulphurous deposit. she was instantly drawn out, but not before she was terribly scalded. while the percivals were at the "upper geyser basin," they were invited to witness a queer sight in the edge of the woods about a quarter of a mile from the hotel, just at dusk. one of the men employed about the place began to call coaxingly, "barney! barney!" and now a dark form appeared among the pines, and out came a huge black bear. he approached timidly within a few feet of the silent group, now advancing, now bounding lightly away at the cracking of a twig, and took several pieces of raw meat from a stump near by. when his silent meal was finished, he gave the spectators one inquiring look, and wheeling round, disappeared in the shadow of the forest. all this time it was very cold, especially at night when, although it was in august, ice formed over pools about the hotel. reluctantly the tourists left the wonders of the "upper basin" behind, and drove on toward the next point of interest, yellowstone lake. "give us the points, tom," randolph sings out, as the driver cracks his whip and the wagon rattles down the road. "tell us about the lake." "nearly eight thousand feet above the sea," rejoins tom. he is so ready with his figures that skeptical kittie declares he makes them up, whenever his memory fails him. "perhaps you think," rejoins thomas, with dignity, "that the lake doesn't cover one hundred and thirty-nine square miles, and hasn't a hundred miles of shore line, and isn't chock-full of splendid trout, and hasn't a beautiful beach of obsidian five miles long, 'reflecting the sun's rays like brilliant gems,' and doesn't"-- "oh! stop, stop, davy; i'll come down," cried kittie; while fred strikes up "annie rooney" at the top of his voice. it was afternoon when they drove down into a pretty valley where were clustered three or four large white tents. "what's this--a circus?" shouted tom. "it's larry matthews' hotel," replied the driver. out came larry himself, as the teams drew up with a flourish, before the door of the principal tent. "glad to see yez, ladies an' gintlemen!" he cried, with broad, rich brogue. "step right into me parlor, but be careful of the carpet, av ye plase!" as the tent knew no floor but turf, this raised a laugh, and this was followed by another and another at larry's quaint observations, which he showered without stint on his guests. when they were all seated at long tables, he was everywhere at once. "milk, sor? milk it is. eggs? there's wan the little speckled hin laid for you, mem! coffee? do take another cup! there's plenty more to be had--the geyser's playin' right along." the meal was eaten in a gale of merriment, and all hands declared that sandwiches, boiled eggs and coffee--for of these viands it largely consisted--had never tasted so good. after dinner there was an hour or two of leisure, during which the travelers strolled about on the hillside overlooking "trout creek" (for which this little encampment was named), securing kodak views, and enjoying life generally. "good-by, sor! good-by, mem!" shouted larry to his guests, as they at length clambered to their seats and rode off. "long life to yez all! come ag'in!" they now had a dozen miles of beautiful prairie, river and mountain scenery before reaching the lake. the ride was not without attractions also, that bordered on the perilous. at one point they were told by the driver that only three weeks before, a huge buffalo had suddenly emerged from the woods, and with lowered head galloped across the road. the six horses of the team immediately in front had been thrown into wild panic, and wheeling about, had dashed off, dragging a broken wagon after them. "so i had to dodge a buffalo and a runaway team," concluded john grimly. the wheel-tracks showed plainly in the turf where he had lashed his own horses out of the road. he added that one of the passengers, a lady from the east, was quite severely injured in jumping from the forward wagon. they saw deer feeding quietly beside the road. great white pelicans floated on the calm surface of the river; eagles flew overhead in full view. there are many pumas, or "mountain lions," as they are called there, in the lonelier tracts of the park, and bears, brown, black and grizzly, roam to and fro unmolested. but the great feature of the ride was presented about five miles further on--when they were driving close to the banks of a clear flowing stream. "what's that creature down by the water?" asked adelaide carelessly. "a calf?" they all glanced toward the river, when tom--who was unquestionably authority on the subject--sung out, "a bear! a bear!" the driver pulled up his horses with a jerk, and none too soon. up scrambled a huge brown, or "cinnamon" bear from the bank of the river, not a hundred yards ahead of them. she jumped a log which lay along the embankment, and crossing the road, began to climb the steep, wooded hill on their left. presently a woolly cub, about the size of a half-grown newfoundland dog, came hurrying after her. he tried to climb the log as she had done, but after straining to get over, exactly like a boy endeavoring to mount a horizontal bar, tumbled backward into the brush. fred and tom cheered him on, and the second attempt succeeded. down he went, head over heels, into the dusty road, and then how he did scramble up hill after his mother! the boys laughed and shouted to him until both bears were out of sight among the pines, far up the mountain slope. the horses had acted bravely during this scene, merely standing with quivering limbs and alert ears until little bruin and his mother had passed. at yellowstone lake the boys hastily organized a fishing excursion, and came back with a fine string of trout, averaging a pound to a pound and a half apiece. in the evening they took the girls out on the lake for a moonlight row. the songs they sang were of a gentler and more plaintive character than usual; for they realized that the beautiful journey over gulf and glacier, and through wonderland, was fast drawing to a close. "row, brothers, row!" rang out pet's sweet soprano; and even fred's "jolly boating weather" had an undertone of sadness, as the chorus came in, full and strong, at the end of each verse. ah! how far ahead a "good-by" casts its shadow. how will it seem to reach a land where the word is not known! "the rapids are near, and the daylight's past," sang pet; while the moonlight quivered on the waters of the strange, wild mountain lake. i must hurry on, myself, in my story of those fair, sweet days and silvery nights; for i find myself lingering only too long among the hills--dreading perhaps, as i trust some of you do, my boy and girl readers, the parting from the glad young lives that, in the course of these six volumes, have become a part of my very own. yes, my manly randolph, impulsive, good-hearted tom, merry kittie, golden-haired pet, and sweet, gentle "captain bess," i must leave you all too soon, in the fair morning-land where hearts beat warmly and young faces glow with mirth and noble resolve; whither in very truth, i have tried, poorly and feebly but most earnestly, to take the real, living boys and girls who have gathered around the pine-cone fires and many a time have sent me words of cheer from their own far-away firesides, year after year. god bless them, every one! * * * * * randolph and fred were loath to leave the fine fishing-grounds of the lake, but the word was "onward!" and another day's ride took the party away from those picturesque shores to the grand cañon of the yellowstone. on horseback they rode slowly along the banks of this mighty ravine, whose tawny flanks have given the river its name. one moment the girls were speechless with laughter over tom's dismay as his horse began to slide down a steep descent; the next they caught their breath with wonder and awe, as they came out on the brink of the mighty cañon, and, making their way on foot to the very edge of a jutting promontory, gazed downward into the fearful depths of a sheer thousand feet below. a few rods from their narrow perch was an eagle's nest, and it made the head giddy and the pulse beat fast to see the great birds float out over the abyss. coiling along the very base of the precipices was the river, a silken thread of twisted white and emerald. but oh! the falls. here the yellowstone gathered itself, at the head of the cañon, and leaped abroad into the air, falling three hundred feet before it knitted together its torn threads on the rocks below. "in his hands are the deep places of the earth," murmured mr. percival, half to himself. "the strength of the hills is his also!" finished the young clergyman, involuntarily baring his head, as if in the visible presence of the creator. "how can he--how can he think of our little every-day-nesses, and of that!" said bess, not turning to the last speaker, but knowing that he heard. rossiter stooped, picked a single blade of grass from the brink of the awful cataract, and handed it to her without a word. and she understood, and was grateful. chapter xv. white lilies. "home again, from a foreign shore!" sang the percival glee club, as the mountain wagon rattled down a long hill, across a dusty plain, and whirled up to the front door of a great hotel. it wasn't home, really, but only the mammoth hot springs, which they had left nearly a week before. half of the excursion had taken the circuit through the park in the opposite direction, and now that all were united once more, many were the handshakings, and loud and eager the exchange of experiences. "did you take dinner at larry's?" "i almost tumbled into the 'morning glory'"-- "oh! what a funny hotel that was at the upper basin--walls of pasteboard between the rooms, and all peeling off, you know"-- "weren't you awfully cold?" "how many trout did you catch, doctor?" "my! wasn't mary's hill steep? we got out and walked. the horses just went up hand over hand, as if 'twas a ladder"-- "did you see a bear?" this last from tom, who became the center of a knot of eager questioners, and assumed airs of importance accordingly. the attractions of the mammoth springs, marvelous though they were, were rather slighted by the tourists, who were sated with "formations" and boiling pools. that afternoon the train bore them over the branch road to livingston, where fine furs were purchased by several parties, this little frontier town being a regular emporium for such articles. at nightfall they had a jolly supper in the car, and afterward made their pullman ring with "the soldier's farewell" and--well--"a. r.!" all the next day they rode at thirty-five miles an hour through the "bad lands" and across north dakota, reaching minneapolis the following morning. "i tell you, it's good to see green grass again, after those scorched-up prairies!" exclaimed tom; and the rest echoed his words. for weeks not a drop of rain had fallen in the northwest, and our new englanders had longed for a sight of the fresh verdure of their own homeland. there was plenty of sightseeing in minneapolis to crowd the few hours allowed there. the younger percivals, in particular, rushed furiously about the city, visited the falls of minnehaha, "which were extremely interesting," fred seacomb remarked, "except that there were no falls there"--only a narrow rivulet trickling over some mossy rocks in a park; and climbed (by elevator) to the top of a twelve-story building on the roof of which was a flourishing garden, as well as an elegant restaurant. later in the day they hurriedly inspected one of the great "pillsbury" mills, which turn out seven thousand barrels of flour a day. "i like this better than even the falls in the grand cañon," whispered bess to kittie, as they watched the flour pouring down through the boxes in a beautiful white flood. "there it was a great power, you know; as if you were somehow seeing the world made; but here is where he makes answers for prayers for daily bread--just think, seven thousand people a day getting a whole barrel apiece, somewhere!" i am glad mr. selborne happened to hear that last sentence. he was learning to know the little captain better and better every day; and he understood what she meant, perhaps even better than bright, saucy pet did. "it is pleasant to remember, miss bessie," he said, taking up the conversation very simply, "that the power and the giving are not separate, but each a part of the great, lovely plan that guides the world's living. 'he watereth the hills,' you know, 'from his chambers,' and the flood that roared over the brink of that precipice is sure to fall somewhere on the earth, at some time, in gentle rain." "i know," said bess, catching her breath a little, as she has a pretty way of doing when she is deeply moved; "and there was the blade of grass!" she might have said "is," for don't i know that that self-same blade was safely pressed in her little testament, in the steamer trunk that she had shared with kittie throughout the journey? they "finished" minneapolis and its sturdy rival st. paul, and hurried on to chicago. several in the original hundred of the excursion had left them, and strangers had taken their places. it began to seem like breaking up in earnest. there was one thing that disturbed randolph; namely, that he had been unable to fulfill a laughing request made by pet at almost the outset of the journey. he had competed with tom in securing wild flowers for the girls, and, it must be confessed, the finest specimens had somehow found their way into miss pet's lap. one variety had followed another during the passage by rail, across new england and canada, until pet had cried out, "you've given me everything!" "not every kind," he replied, breathing hard after a run he had just made for some great golden daisies. "isn't there some special flower you want, that you haven't had?" "well, let me see--a water lily!" said the girl merrily, choosing the most unlikely flower she could think of at the moment. randolph had laughed, too, but had resolved in his inmost heart to procure just that particular white blossom, if it could be had for love, muscle or money. but no lilies could be found. all through manitoba, assiniboia and alberta he had looked in vain. alaska yielded fir and spruce in abundance, but no water lilies. nor was he more successful during the homeward-bound trip, across the states. pet said nothing more about it--indeed, i think she forgot her careless suggestion almost the moment it was made; but randolph felt himself put on his mettle, and failure stared him in the face. no, i am not writing a "love story," unless you grant that all true stories are that, in which pure, sweet young lives are thrown together, and drawn to one another by finest and frankest sympathy, looking ahead no farther than the sunset of that day or the sunrise of the next. what might come in the future, these honest, joyous young people did not try to fathom. perhaps for some of them the sacredness of a life-long companionship was waiting--who could tell? but now they just took the sweetness and comradery of to-day, and were satisfied. as for randolph's failure to procure the lily, more of that by and by. for there was one marvel, familiar to some, but new to most of the party, yet to come--the falls of niagara. chicago, with its never-ceasing stir of business activity, its broad streets, its huge "auditorium" building, twenty stories high, its art galleries and its good-natured western hurry and hospitality, was left behind, and one misty morning in early september the excursion train deposited its passengers at the niagara depot, from which they were whirled round to the cataract house for breakfast. "tom hates to waste his time eating in the vicinity of niagara falls," said fred at the table, "but i am glad to see that he is going through the form, at any rate." a glance at the latter's heaped-up plate was convincing. "certainly a splendid imitation of a hungry boy," remarked kittie. "take another biscuit, won't you, tommy?" but when at last they did enter prospect park, and huddled together at the brink of the mighty american falls, there were no more jests. all the world seemed sweeping onward and over, into that white uproar. the solid rock beneath them trembled in the thunderous fall of many waters. some of the party walked over the little rustic bridge to goat island, and out to the bit of rock where terrapin tower once stood. but it was all too terrible to invite a long stay. glad they were to reach the quiet of the grove again, where moss and furrowed bark and waving fern told their simple story of peace, and the sparrow's twitter was heard against the deep undertone of the fall. in the afternoon half a dozen of the bolder spirits went down the inclined plane to the shore below the falls, and embarked on the _maid of the mist_. they had to encase themselves in rubber coats and tarpaulin hats, while the little boat steamed up into the verge of the boiling caldron until its awe-struck passengers were deafened and drenched by the columns of rolling spray from the cataract. evening came, and for the last time the percivals, with their special friends, gathered in the car for a final "concert." nearly one half of the excursion party had left them at niagara, waving handkerchiefs and singing, "should auld acquaintance be forgot?" mr. rossiter and his sister were to reach their journey's end at a little town in western massachusetts, and would leave the train in the early morning, while their comrades were still asleep. altogether, despite the anticipation of getting home once more, it was a sad evening, as "good-by" evenings must always be. next morning all was eagerness and bustle, for when breakfast was over the train was within twenty miles of boston. alaskan paddles and totem poles were lashed together, and the sharp noses and bright eyes of stuffed foxes from mandan peered from their paper wrappings as their owners prepared for the last disembarkation. near historic concord the train stopped for a local freight to pull out of the way. randolph carelessly strolled out to the car platform, and cast his eye along a little stream which was crossed by the track at that point. something made him start suddenly and beckon to a group of boys who were idling near. "a silver dollar for the boy that brings me a pond lily before the train starts!" he cried, pointing to the river. how those boys did scatter, some up stream, some down! one bright little fellow, who had just divested himself for a bath, plunged in and swam lustily for the prize. another waded in, waist-deep, regardless of clothes. half a dozen more threw themselves on to a rude raft, capsized it, and scrambling on board again, poled it toward the white beauties, floating serenely on the dark waters of the assabet. randolph stood waiting eagerly, with the dollar in his hand, expecting every moment to hear the signal-whistle for starting. a group of workmen engaged in repairing the bridge left off working and cheered the boys on, laughing, and shouting to the little fellows. "go it, dick! now, billy, there's a big one in front of you--no, to your right, to your right! hurry, pat, you'll get it! good for you!" "off brakes!" rang out the whistle sharply. the train started. four boys scrambled, panting, up the steep, sandy bank. randolph jumped on the lowest step of the car and stretched out his hand. "here they are, mister!" and four snowy, perfumed blossoms were thrust by grimy little fingers into his own. "catch!" he shouted, throwing out four bright silver quarters for which he had hastily changed the dollar. "thank you, boys. good-by!" and the train rolled on. randolph entered the car, his eyes shining. evidently no one within had witnessed this little episode. "almost home," he said, coming up behind pet. "too bad i couldn't"-- "oh! that lily," laughed the girl. "well, randolph, perhaps it will do you good to fail just once. it's a sort of discipline, you know." "i'm afraid i shall have to get my discipline some other way," said randolph demurely; and he deposited the lilies in the lap of astonished pet. just what she saw in those exquisite, fragrant things, all dripping from the cool depths from which they had come to greet her, i cannot say. she looked her delight at randolph, and then buried the pretty pink of her own cheeks in the white petals. i believe she did not even thank the giver; but he was satisfied. twenty minutes later the train thundered into the fitchburg depot in boston, and the long, ten-thousand mile journey was at an end. chapter xvi. conclusion. i have entitled this chapter "conclusion," because it seems necessary to have the last chapter of a book named in that way. but the author might as well have named it "beginning," for there is no such thing in life as a "conclusion," unless, indeed (as randolph, looking over my shoulder, and fresh from the classic shades of cambridge, suggests), we take the literal meaning of the word, a "shutting together"--of the covers of this book! no; life is full of beginnings, and stories can never, never, to all eternity, "conclude." because the "pine cone stories" can have but just six volumes, of so many pages each, we must let the story go on without us. but it will not conclude, any more than your life or mine forever. with which little "preachment," as miss alcott's young people somewhere call it, let us take a last look at the friends whose stories are drifting away out of our sight. more than three years have passed since tom delivered that lucky shot at old silver-tip; since bessie gazed thoughtfully down into the mighty cañon in the yellowstone, and took in her hand the slender ribbon of grass for a token. it is christmas time, and we are in an old mansion house in the depths of a deep forest in the pine tree state. you recognize the room at once, i hope--for it is uncle will's little secret chamber at the pines. it is night, and the north wind is smiting grandly his "thunder harp of pines," while the window panes whiten and rattle with the sheets of snow that are flung against them by the storm. there is a glorious fire in the fireplace, throwing great billows of flame far up the chimney, crackling, snapping and purring, sending a ruddy glow into every corner of the room and over its inmates. for the chamber is not empty; the fire is not talking to itself, but to a goodly company that gather around it, with all the old-time cheer. uncle will is there, sturdy and broad-shouldered as ever, with hair only a little whiter than when we first met him, standing beside his good horses at the pineville depot years ago. aunt puss, too, is not far away, and her husband's occasional "eunice" is even more full of tenderness than in earlier days, when they met by the lilac bushes. close by her side nestles golden-haired pet, who turns, however, as she talks, to a tall youth with a dark curling mustache, whom she addresses as randolph. the flush on her cheeks and the brightness in her happy eyes is not alone borrowed from the dancing fire; for randolph has just stooped down and whispered to his aunt--pet knew perfectly well, too, what he was saying, sly puss!--that the wedding-day was set for the first of may. in another corner of the room tom, now a grave senior at harvard, is reading by the fire-light a letter postmarked "portland, oregon." i don't believe bert martin wrote it, though there is a great deal in the letter about him; for the handwriting is decidedly feminine. can it be that bert employs his sister as an amanuensis? the young lady in navy blue, next to tom, must be kittie, whose engagement to fred seacomb "came out" simultaneously with randolph and pet's. she tells me privately that she can not help teasing him, he's so dignified with his new instructorship in the university of pennsylvania; but then he's good-natured and don't seem to mind it a bit--"'so long as he has me,' he says--foolish fellow!" "have you heard from bess lately?" asks uncle will. "only last week," replies tom, throwing a handful of cones on the fire, and then trying to get the pitch off his white hands. "she and ross were in geneva, and having a glorious time." "i shall be glad when she is back in this country again," remarks aunt puss, stroking pet's bright hair. "if all my girls should run away so far, as soon as they were married, i don't know what i should do!" pet laughs and blushes a little, and assures her aunt that "there's no danger!" for she and randolph have talked it over, you see, and have resolved on another alaskan trip, where they can renew their memories of that bright summer among the gulfs and glaciers of the far northwest. "just for the sake of old times" uncle will tells a story, while the red blaze crackles around a plentiful supply of cones and curling sheets of "silver rags." without, the northern crosses all through the wood are white with snow, and the wind rises until in its continuous voice can be heard a roar as of the kelp-laden surges around the lonely reefs of appledore. there is silence in the little chamber as young folk and old gaze dreamily into the heart of the fire, their thoughts full of dear old days, yet looking forward, strong, trustful, hopeful, to the shelter that shall be for them in the heart of every storm that may assail them; to the work and the joy and the gladness of life that is set before them. * * * * * d. lothrop company's select list of books. boyd (pliny steele). up and down the merrimac. illustrated, mo, . . a vacation trip upon one of the most charming rivers in the world, made in a dory by the author and his two sons for the purpose of hunting, fishing and a good time generally. "the author is a shrewd thinker; his reflections upon men and things which run through its pages render it peculiarly attractive."--_philadelphia item._ boyden (anna l.). echoes from hospital and white house. mo, . . (= =) "anna l. boyden has undertaken to commemorate the services of mrs. rebecca r. pomroy in the hospitals of the army and in the family of president lincoln during the rebellion. the book is a well-written, earnest account of mrs. pomroy's valuable work as a nurse, and, as such, an addition which all will be glad to have to the bibliography of the late war."--_chicago tribune._ boyesen (hjalmar hjorth). vagabond tales. square mo, . . a collection of characteristic novellettes by one of the most entertaining and most popular of modern story-tellers. no writer living--scarcely excepting even the great bjornstein--so thoroughly understands the norse character and when into this is infused the american element, the success of prof. boyesen's tales is easily understood. there is a breeziness, a vigor and a manliness about his characters that captivate the reader at once and combine dramatic force with literary skill. the stories included in this volume are: crooked john; a child of the age; monk tellenbach's exile; a disastrous partnership; liberty's victim; a perilous incognito; charity. boy's workshop (a). by a boy and his friends. with an introduction by henry randall waite. illustrated, mo, . . "written by 'a boy and his friends,' and takes you right into _a boy's workshop_; tells you how to make and to use a saw-horse and a work-bench; how to use tools and to care for them; lets you into the secret of book-rests, foot-rests, tables, cabinets, catch-alls, etc.; shows you how to build wooden tents, make a fernery, construct a railway and train, bind magazines, take photographs, tie knots, and do a great many other things. it is a book that every boy would like to have, and that he ought to have."--_advance_, chicago. "next to actual service with an intelligent carpenter or cabinet-maker this book is to be valued for its instruction in the art and mystery of tools."--_christian advocate_, new york. brave girls. mo, illustrated, . . when young people see the name of nora perry, mary hartwell catherwood or frank h. converse appended to a story, they prick up their ears at once, for they have learned to expect something of unusual interest. they will not be disappointed when they open this book and read about glen hastings, kate oxford, sharly raymond and bessy may--brave girls every one, but in divers ways. other writers almost as well known as these favorites have helped in no slight degree to swell this tribute to the girls. faith and action. selections from the writings of f. d. maurice. with preface by rev. phillips brooks, d. d. mo, . . few english clergymen are better known in this country than frederic d. maurice, whose untimely death, some years ago, deprived not only england, but the christian world, of one of its ablest religious teachers. he devoted a great deal of his time to the social and religious needs of the common people. maurice was a dear friend of tennyson. the following lines in one of the poet's best-known pieces refer to his friend: "how best to help the slender store, how mend the dwellings of the poor, how gain in life as life advances, valor and charity more and more." farman (ella). (mrs. c. s. pratt.) ella farman is the editor of wide awake, and her books are full of sympathy with girl-life, always sunshiny and hopeful, always pointing out new ways to do things and unexpected causes for happiness and gladness. the cooking-club of tu-whit hollow. mo, illustrated, . . the practical instructions in housewifery, which are abundant, are set in the midst of a bright wholesome story. girls who read this book will not be able to keep house at once, but they will learn to do some things, and they will have an hour or two of genuine pleasure in discovering how there came to be a cooking-club and in tracing its history. good-for-nothing polly. mo, illustrated, . . polly is not a girl at all, but a boy, a slangy, school-hating, fun-loving, wilful, big-hearted boy. "nagged" continually at home, he wastes his time upon the streets and finally runs away. the book tells of his adventures. mrs. pratt has a keen insight into the joys and sorrows of the little appreciated boy-life. like robert j. burdette, she is a master of humor and often touches a tender chord of pathos. every boy will be delighted with this book and every mother ought to read it who is, all unwittingly perhaps, "freezing" her own noisy boy out of the home. "'good-for-nothing polly' will doubtless gain the admiration and win the graces of as large a circle of readers in england as it has already done in the united states."--_bookseller_, london. how two girls tried farming. mo, illustrated, . . a narrative of an actual experience. "the two girls who tried farming solved a problem by taking the bull by the horns, and that is often as effectual a means as can be resorted to. they had for capital one thousand dollars. with this they bought thirty-five acres of scraggy farm land. then they hired out as lady help for the winter and laid by enough money to buy clover seed, and a horse and a few other necessities. dolly had learned to plough and harrow and make hay, and even to cut wood. both girls worked hard and it is pleasant to chronicle their success. now they have a prosperous farm, and raise cows, sheep, pigs and chickens, and as they do everything to the best of their ability, their products are in constant demand."--_st. louis post despatch._ "we recommend it to those girls who are wearing out their lives at the sewing-machine, behind counters or even at the teacher's desk."--_new york herald._ "the success of the farm is almost surpassed by the charm of the record. it shows a touch of refinement and a degree of literary skill no less uncommon than the enterprise which has converted a bleak hill-top of michigan into a smiling garden."--_new york tribune._ [illustration: the mer de glace showing the cleft station at trélaporte, les echelets, the tacul, the périades and the grande jorasse.] the glaciers of the alps. being a narrative of excursions and ascents, an account of the origin and phenomena of glaciers, and an exposition of the physical principles to which they are related. by john tyndall, f.r.s. with illustrations. _new edition._ longmans, green, and co. london, new york, and bombay. . _all rights reserved_ to michael faraday, this book is affectionately inscribed. . preface. in the following work i have not attempted to mix narrative and science, believing that the mind once interested in the one, cannot with satisfaction pass abruptly to the other. the book is therefore divided into two parts: the first chiefly narrative, and the second chiefly scientific. in part i. i have sought to convey some notion of the life of an alpine explorer, and of the means by which his knowledge is acquired. in part ii. an attempt is made to classify such knowledge, and to refer the observed phenomena to their physical causes. the second part of the work is written with a desire to interest intelligent persons who may not possess any special scientific culture. for their sakes i have dwelt more fully on principles than i should have done in presence of a purely scientific audience. the brief sketch of the nature of light and heat, with which part ii. is commenced, will not, i trust, prove uninteresting to the reader for whom it is more especially designed. should any obscurity exist as to the meaning of the terms structure, dirt-bands, regelation, interference, and others, which occur in part i., it will entirely disappear in the perusal of part ii. two ascents of mont blanc and two of monte rosa are recorded; but the aspects of nature, and other circumstances which attracted my attention, were so different in the respective cases, that repetition was scarcely possible. the numerous interesting articles on glaciers which have been published during the last eighteen months, and the various lively discussions to which the subject has given birth, have induced me to make myself better acquainted than i had previously been with the historic aspect of the question. in some important cases i have stated, with the utmost possible brevity, the results of my reading, and thus, i trust, contributed to the formation of a just estimate of men whose labours in this field were long anterior to my own. j. t. _royal institution, june, ._ prefatory note. "glaciers of the alps" was published nearly six and thirty years ago, and has been long out of print, its teaching in a condensed form having been embodied in the little book called "forms of water." the two books are, however, distinct in character; each appears to me to supplement the other; and as the older work is still frequently asked for, i have, at the suggestion of my husband's publishers, consented to the present reprint, which may be followed later on by a reprint of "hours of exercise." before reproducing a book written so long ago, i sought to assure myself that it contained nothing touching the views of others which my husband might have wished at the present time to alter or omit. with this object i asked lord kelvin to be good enough to read over for me the pages which deal with the history of the subject and with discussions in which he himself took an active part. in kind response he writes:--"... after carefully going through all the passages relating to those old differences i could not advise the omission of any of them from the reprint. there were, no doubt, some keen differences of opinion and judgement among us, and other friends now gone from us, but i think the statements on controversial points in this beautiful and interesting book of your husband's are all thoroughly courteous and considerate of feelings, and have been felt to be so by those whose views were contested or criticised in them." the current spelling of swiss names has changed considerably since "glaciers of the alps" was written, but, except in the very few cases where an obvious oversight called for correction, the text has been left unaltered. only the index has been made somewhat fuller than it was. l. c. t. _january, ._ contents. part i. page .--introductory. visit to penrhyn; the cleavage of slate rocks; sedgwick's theory--its difficulties; sharpe's observations; sorby's experiments; lecture at the royal institution; glacier lamination; arrangement of an expedition to switzerland .--expedition of : the oberland. valley of lauterbrunnen; pliability of rocks; the wengern alp; the jungfrau and silberhorn; ice avalanches; glaciers formed from them; scene from the little scheideck; the lower grindelwald glacier; the heisse platte--its avalanches; ice minarets and blocks; echoes of the wetterhorn; analogy with the reflection of light from angular mirrors; the reichenbach cascade; handeck fall; the grimsel; the unteraar glacier; hut of m. dollfuss; hôtel des neufchâtelois; the rhone glacier from the mayenwand; expedition up the glacier; coloured rings round the sun; crevasses of the _névé_; extraordinary meteorological phenomenon; spirit of the brocken .--the tyrol. kaunserthal and the gebatsch alp; senner or cheesemakers; gebatsch glacier; a night in a cowshed; passage to lantaufer; a chamois on the rocks; my guide; the atmospheric snow-line; passage of the stelvio; colour of fresh snow; bormio; the pass recrossed by night; aspect of the mountains; meran to unserfrau; passage of the hochjoch to fend; singular hailstorm; wild glacier region; hidden crevasses; first paper presented to the royal society .--expedition of : the lake of geneva. blueness of the water; the head of the lake; appearance of the rhone; subsidence of particles; mirage .--chamouni and the montanvert. arrival; coloured shadows on the snow; source of the arveiron; fall of the vault; "sunrise in the valley of chamouni;" scratched rocks; quarters at the montanvert .--the mer de glace. not a _sea_ but a _river_ of ice; wave-forms on its surface; their explanation; structure and strata; glacier tables; first view of the dirt bands; influence of illumination in rendering them visible; the eye incapable of detecting differences between intense lights . measurements commenced; the "cleft station" at trélaporte; regelation of snow granules; two chamois; view of the mer de glace and its tributaries; _séracs_ of the col du géant; sliding and viscous theories; rending of the ice; striæ on its surface; white ice-seams . alone upon the glacier; lakes and rivulets; parallel between glacier and geological disturbance; splendid rainbow; aspect of the glacier at the base of the séracs; visit to the chief guide at chamouni; liberties granted .--the jardin. glacier du talèfre; jardin divides the névé; blue veins near the summit; surrounding scene; moraines and avalanches; cascade du talèfre; dangers on approaching it from above . lightning and rain; spherical hailstones; an evening among the crevasses; dangerous leap; ice-practice; preparations for an ascent of mont blanc .--first ascent of mont blanc ( ). across the mountain to the glacier des bossons; its crevasses; ladder left behind; consequent difficulties; the grands mulets; twinkling and change of colour of the stars; moonlight on the mountains; start with one guide; difficulties among the crevasses; the petit plateau; séracs of the dôme du goûter; bad condition of snow; the grand plateau; coloured spectra round the sun; the lost guides; the route missed; dangerous ice-slope; guide exhausted; cutting steps; cheerless prospect; the corridor; the mur de la côte; the petits mulets; food and drink disappear; physiological experiences on the calotte; summit attained; the clouds and mountains; experiment on sound; colour of the snow; the descent; a solitary prisoner; second night at the grands mulets; inflammation of eyes; a blind man among the crevasses; descent to chamouni; thunder on mont blanc . life at the montanvert; glacier "blower;" cascade of the talèfre; difficulties in setting out lines; departure from the montanvert; my hosts; prospect from the glacier des bois; edouard simond .--expedition of . origin and aim of the expedition; laminated structure of the ice .--passage of the strahleck. unpromising weather; appearance of the glacier and of the adjacent mountains; transverse protuberances; dirt bands; structure; a slip on a snow slope; the finsteraarhorn; the schreckhorn; extraordinary atmospheric effects; summit of the strahleck; grand amphitheatre; mutations of the clouds; descent of the rocks; a bergschrund; fog in the valley; descent to the grimsel . ancient glaciers in the valley of hasli; rounded, polished, and striated rocks; level of the ancient ice; groovings on the grimsel pass; glacier of the rhone; descent of the rhone valley; the Æggischhorn; cloud iridescences; the aletsch glacier; the märjelen see; icebergs; tributaries of the aletsch; grand glacier-region; crevasses; a chamois deceived .--ascent of the finsteraarhorn. character of my guide; iridescent cloud; evening on the faulberg; the jungfrau and her neighbours; a mountain cave; the jungfrau before dawn; contemplated visit; the grünhorn lücke; magnificent corridor; sunrise; névé of the viesch glacier; halt at the base of the finsteraarhorn; spurs and couloirs of the mountain; pyramidal crest; scene of agassiz's observations; a hard climb; discipline of such an ascent; boiling point; registering thermometer, its fate; daring utterance; descent by glissades; the viesch glacier; hidden crevasses; a brave and competent guide . subsequent days at the Æggischhorn; afloat on the icebergs; bedding and structure; ancient moraines of the aletsch; scratched rocks; passage of the mountains to the end of the glacier; a wild gorge; arrival at zermatt; the riffelberg .--first ascent of monte rosa. the ascent new to myself and my guide; directions; ulrich lauener; ominous clouds; passage of the görner glacier; roches moutonnées; avalanche from the twins; gradual advance of clouds; bridged chasms; scene from a cliff; apparent atmospheric struggle; sound of the snow; dangerous edge; overhanging cornice; staff driven through it; increased obscurity; rocky crest; loss of pocket-book; summit attained; boiling point; fall of snow; exquisite forms of the snow crystals; a shower of frozen blossoms; the descent; mode of attachment; startling avalanche; blue light emitted from the fissures of the fresh snow; stifling heat; return to the riffel . the rothe kumm; pleasant companions; difficult descent; temperatures of rock, air, and grass; singular cavern in the ice; structure and stratification .--the görner grat and the riffelhorn; magnetic phenomena. formation and dissipation of clouds; scene from the görner grat; magnetism of the rocks; the compass and sun at variance; ascent of the riffelhorn; magnetic effects; places of most intense action; scratched and polished rocks; exfoliation of crust produced by the sliding of ancient glaciers; magnetic polarity; consequent points; bearings from the riffelhorn; action on a distant needle . fog on the riffelberg; its dissipation; sunset from the görner grat; cloud-wreaths on the matterhorn; streamers of flame; grand interference phenomenon; investigation of structure; the görnerhorn glacier; western glacier of monte rosa; the schwarze, trifti, and théodule glaciers; welding of the tributaries to parallel strips; temptation .--second ascent of monte rosa ( ). a light scrip; my guide lent; a substitute; a party on the mountain; across the glacier and up the rocks; the guide expostulates; among the crevasses; the guide halts; left alone; beauty of the mountain; splendid effects of diffraction; cheer from the summit; on the kamm; climbers meet; among the rocks; alone on the summit; the axe slips; the prospect; the descent; serious accident; a word on climbing alone . the furgge glacier; thunder and lightning; the weissthor given up; excursion by stalden to saas; herr imseng; the mattmark see and hotel; ascent of a boulder; snow-storm; cold quarters; the monte moro; the allalein glacier; a noble vault; structure and dirt-bands; stormy weather; avalanches at saas; the fée glacier; frozen dust on the mischabelhörner; snow, vapour, and cloud; curious effect on the hearing; "a terrible hole;" singular group; a song from 'the robbers' . need of observations on alpine temperature; balmat's intention; aid from the royal society; difficulties at chamouni in ; the intendant memorialised; his response; the séracs revisited; crevasses and crumples; bad weather; thermometers placed at the jardin; avalanches of the talèfre; wondrous sky .--second ascent of mont blanc ( ). shadows of the aiguilles; silver trees at sunrise; m. necker's letter; birds as sparks and stars against the sky; crevasse bridged; ladder rejected; a hunt for a _pont_; crevasses crossed; magnificent sunset; illuminated clouds; storm on the grands mulets; a comet discovered; start by starlight; the petit plateau a reservoir for avalanches; balmat's warning; the grand plateau at dawn; blue of the ice; balmat in danger; clouds upon the calotte; the summit; wind and snow-dust; balmat frostbitten; halt on the calotte; descent to chamouni; good conduct of porters . hostility of chief guide; procès verbal; the british association; application to the sardinian authorities; president's letter; royal society; testimonial to balmat .--winter expedition to the mer de glace, . first defeat and fresh attempt; geneva to chamouni; deep snow; desolation; slow progress; a horse in the snow; a struggle; chamouni on christmas night; mountains hidden; climb to the montanvert; snow on the pines; débris of avalanches; breaking of snow; atmospheric changes; the mountains concealed and revealed; colour of the snow; the montanvert in winter; footprints in the snow; wonderful frost figures; crystal curtain; the mer de glace in winter; the first night; "a rose of dawn;" crimson banners of the aiguilles; the stakes fixed; a hurricane on the glacier; the second night; wild snow-storm; a man in a crevasse; calm; magnificent snow crystals; sound through the falling snow; swift descent; source of the arveiron; crystal cave; appearance of water; westward from the vault; majestic scene; farewell part ii. .--light and heat. what is light?--notion of the ancients; requires time to pass through space; römer, bradley, fizeau; emission theory supported by newton, opposed by huyghens; the wave theory established by young and fresnel; theory explained; nature of sound; of music; of pitch; nature of light; of colour; two sounds may produce silence; two rays of light may produce darkness; two rays of heat may produce cold; length and number of waves of light; liquid waves; interference; diffraction; colours of thin plates; applications of the foregoing to cloud iridescences, luminous trees, twinkling of stars, the spirit of the brocken, &c. .--radiant heat. the sun emits a multitude of non-luminous rays; rays of heat differ from rays of light as one colour differs from another; the same ray may produce the sensations of light and heat .--qualities of heat. heat a kind of motion; system of exchanges; luminous and obscure heat; absorption by gases; gases may be transparent to light, but opaque to heat; heat selected from luminous sources; the atmosphere acts the part of a ratchet-wheel; possible heat of a distant planet; causes of cold in the upper strata of the earth's atmosphere .--origin of glaciers. application of principles; the snow-line; its meaning; waters piled annually in a solid form on the summits of the hills; the glaciers furnish the chief means of escape; superior and inferior snow-line . whiteness of snow; whiteness of ice; round air-bubbles; melting and freezing; conversion of snow into ice by pressure .--colour of water and ice. waves of ether not entangled; they are separated in the prism; they are differently absorbed; colour due to this; water and ice blue; water and ice opaque to radiant heat; long waves shivered on the molecules; experiment; grotto of capri; the laugs of iceland .--colours of the sky. newton's idea; goethe's theory; clausius and brücke; suspended particles; singular effect on a painting explained by goethe; light separated without absorption; reflected and transmitted light; blueness of milk and juices; the sun through london smoke; experiments; blue of the eye; colours of steam; the lake of geneva .--the moraines. glacier loaded along its edges by the ruins of the mountains; lateral moraines; medial moraines; their number _one_ less than the number of tributaries; moraines of the mer de glace; successive shrinkings; glacier tables explained; 'dip' of stones upon the glacier enables us to draw the meridian line; type 'table;' sand cones; moraines engulfed and disgorged; transparency of ice under the moraines .--glacier motion,--preliminary. névé and glacier; first measurements; hugi and agassiz; escher's defeat on the aletsch; piles fixed across the aar glacier by agassiz in ; professor forbes invited by m. agassiz; forbes's first observations on the mer de glace in ; motion of agassiz's piles measured by m. wild; centre of the glacier moves quickest; state of the question .--motion of the mer de glace. the theodolite; mode of measurement; first line; centre point not the quickest; second line; former result confirmed; law of motion sought; the glacier moves through a sinuous valley; effect of flexure; western half of glacier moves quickest; point of maximum motion crosses axis; eastern half moves quickest; locus of point of maximum motion; new law; motion of the géant; motion of the léchaud; squeezing of the tributaries through the neck of the valley at trélaporte; the léchaud a driblet .--ice wall at the tacul,--velocities of top and bottom. first attempt by mr. hirst; second attempt, stakes fixed at top, bottom, and centre; dense fog; the stakes lost; process repeated; velocities determined .--winter motion of the mer de glace. first line, above the montanvert; second line, below the montanvert; ratio of winter to summer motion .--cause of glacier motion,--de saussure's theory. first attempt at a theory by scheuchzer in ; charpentier's theory, or the theory of dilatation; agassiz's theory; altmann and grüner; theory of de saussure, or the sliding theory; in part true; strained interpretation of this theory .--rendu's theory. character of rendu; his essay entitled 'théorie des glaciers de la savoie;' extracts from the essay; he ascribes "circulation" to natural forces; classifies glaciers; assigns the cause of the conversion of snow into ice; notices veined structure; "time and affinity;" notices regelation; diminution of _glaciers réservoirs_; remarkable passage; announces swifter motion of centre; north british review; discrepancies explained by rendu; liquid motion ascribed to glacier; all the phenomena of a river reproduced upon the mer de glace; ratio of side and central velocities; errors removed . anticipations of rendu confirmed by agassiz and forbes; analogies with liquid motion established by forbes; his measurements in ; measurements in and ; measurements of agassiz and wild in , , , and ; agassiz notices the "migration" of the point of swiftest motion; true meaning of this observation; summary of contributions on this part of the question .--forbes's theory. discussions as to its meaning; facts and principles; definition of theory; some experiments on the mer de glace to test the viscosity of the ice .--the crevasses. caused by the motion; ice sculpture; fantastic figures; beauty of the crevasses of the highest glaciers; birth of a crevasse; mechanical origin; line of greatest strain; marginal crevasses; transverse crevasses; longitudinal crevasses; bergschrunds; influence of flexure; why the convex sides of glaciers are most crevassed . further considerations on viscosity; numerical test; formation of crevasses opposed to viscosity .--heat and work. connexion of natural forces; equivalence of heat and work; heat produced by mechanical action; heat consumed in producing work; chemical attractions; attraction of gravitation; amount of heat which would be produced by the stoppage of the earth in its orbit; amount produced by the falling of the earth into the sun; shifting of atoms; heat consumed in molecular work; specific heat; latent heat; 'friability' of ice near its melting point; rotten ice and softened wax . papers presented to the royal society by professor forbes in ; capillary hypothesis of glacier motion; hypothesis examined .--thomson's theory. statement of theory; influence of pressure on the melting point of ice; difficulties of theory; calculation of requisite pressure; actual pressure insufficient .--pressure theory. pressure and tension; possible experiments; ice may be moulded into vases and statuettes or coiled into knots; this no proof of viscosity; actual experiments; a sphere of ice moulded to a lens; a lens moulded to a cylinder; a lump of ice moulded to a cup; straight bars of ice bent; ice thus moulded incapable of being sensibly stretched; when tension is substituted for pressure, analogy with viscous body breaks down .--regelation. faraday's first experiments; freezing together of pieces of ice at °; freezing in hot water; faraday's recent experiments; regelation not due to pressure nor to capillary attraction; it takes place in vacuo; fracture and regelation; no viscidity discovered .--crystallization and internal liquefaction. how crystals are 'nursed;' snow-crystals; crystal stars formed in water; arrangement of atoms of lake ice; dissection of ice by a sunbeam; liquid flowers formed in ice; associated vacuous spots; curious sounds; their explanation; cohesion of water when free from air; liquid snaps like a broken spring; ebullition converted into explosion; noise of crepitation; water-cells in glacier ice; vacuous spots mistaken for bubbles; not flattened by pressure; experiments; cause of regelation .--the moulins. their character; depth of moulin on grindelwald glacier; explanation the grand moulin of the mer de glace; motion of moulins .--dirt-bands of the mer de glace. their discovery by professor forbes; view of bands from a point near the flégère; bands as seen from les charmoz; skew surface of glacier; aspect of bands from the cleft station; origin of bands; tendency to become straight; differences between observers .--veined structure of glaciers. general appearance; grooves upon the glacier; first observations; description by m. guyot; observations of professor forbes; structure and stratification; subject examined; marginal structure; transverse structure; longitudinal structure; experimental illustrations; the structure complementary to the crevasses; glaciers of the oberland, valais, and savoy examined with reference to this question .--the veined structure and differential motion. marginal structure oblique to sides; drag towards the centre; difficulties of theory which ascribes the structure to differential sliding; it persists _across_ the lines of maximum sliding .--the ripple theory of the veined structure. ripples in water supposed to correspond to glacier structure; analysis of theory; observation of the mm. weber; water dropping from an oar; stream cleft by an obstacle; two divergent lines of ripple; single line produced by lateral obstacle; direction of ripples compounded of river's motion and wave motion; structure and ripples due to different causes; their positions also different .--the veined structure and pressure. supposed case of pressed prism of glass; experiments of nature; quartz-pebbles flattened and indented; pressure would produce lamination; tangential action .--the veined structure and the liquefaction of ice by pressure. influence of pressure on melting and boiling points; some substances swell, others shrink in melting; effects of pressure different on the two classes of bodies; theoretic anticipation by mr. james thomson; melting point of ice lowered by pressure; internal liquefaction of a prism of solid ice by pressure; liquefaction in layers; application to the veined structure .--white ice-seams of the glacier du géant. aspect of seams; they sweep across the glacier concentric with structure; structure at the base of the talèfre cascade; crumples; scaling off by pressure; origin of seams of white ice . glacier du géant in a state of longitudinal compression; measurements which prove that its hinder parts are advancing upon those in front; shortening of its undulations; squeezing of white ice-seams; development of veined structure summary appendix index illustrations. the mer de glace.--showing the cleft station at trélaporte, the echelets, the tacul, the périades, and the grand jorasse. _frontispiece_ fig. page . ice minaret . diagram of an angular reflector , . boats' sails inverted by atmospheric refraction . wave-like forms on the mer de glace . glacier table . tributaries of the mer de glace . magnetic boulder of the riffelhorn , , , . luminous trees projected against the sky at sunrise , . snow on the pines , . snow crystals . chasing produced by waves . diagram explanatory of interference . interference spectra, produced by diffraction _to face_ . moraines of the mer de glace " . typical section of a glacier table . locus of the point of maximum motion . inclinations of ice cascade of the glacier des bois . inclinations of mer de glace above l'angle . fantastic mass of ice . diagram explanatory of the mechanical origin of crevasses . diagram showing the line of greatest strain a, b. section and plan of a portion of the lower grindelwald glacier . diagram illustrating the crevassing of convex sides of glacier . diagram illustrating test of viscosity , , , . moulds used in experiments with ice - . liquid flowers in lake ice . dirt-bands of the mer de glace, as seen from a point near the flégère _to face_ . ditto, as seen from les charmoz " . ditto, as seen from the cleft station, trélaporte " . plan of dirt-bands taken from johnson's 'physical atlas' . veined structure on the walls of crevasses . figure explanatory of the marginal structure . plan of part of ice-fall, and of glacier below it (glacier of the rhone) . section of ditto . figure explanatory of longitudinal structure . structure and bedding on the great aletsch glacier , . structure and stratification on the furgge glacier . diagram illustrating differential motion , . diagrams explanatory of the formation of ripples , , . appearance of a prism of ice partially liquefied by pressure. , . figures illustrative of compression and liquefaction of ice. , . sections of white ice-seams , . variations in the dip of the veined structure , . section of three glacier crumples . wall of a crevasse, with incipient crumpling . plan of a stream on the glacier du géant . plan of a seam of white ice on ditto part i. chiefly narrative. ages are your days, ye grand expressors of the present tense and types of permanence; firm ensigns of the fatal being amid these coward shapes of joy and grief that will not bide the seeing. hither we bring our insect miseries to the rocks, and the whole flight with pestering wing vanish and end their murmuring, vanish beside these dedicated blocks. emerson glaciers of the alps. introductory. ( .) in the autumn of i attended the meeting of the british association at liverpool; and, after it was over, availed myself of my position to make an excursion into north wales. guided by a friend who knew the country, i became acquainted with its chief beauties, and concluded the expedition by a visit to bangor and the neighbouring slate quarries of penrhyn. from my boyhood i had been accustomed to handle slates; had seen them used as roofing materials, and had worked the usual amount of arithmetic upon them at school; but now, as i saw the rocks blasted, the broken masses removed to the sheds surrounding the quarry, and there cloven into thin plates, a new interest was excited, and i could not help asking after the cause of this extraordinary property of cleavage. it sufficed to strike the point of an iron instrument into the edge of a plate of rock to cause the mass to yield and open, as wood opens in advance of a wedge driven into it. i walked round the quarry and observed that the planes of cleavage were everywhere parallel; the rock was capable of being split in one direction only, and this direction remained perfectly constant throughout the entire quarry. [sidenote: cleavage of slate rocks.] i was puzzled, and, on expressing my perplexity to my companion, he suggested that the cleavage was nothing more than the layers in which the rock had been originally deposited, and which, by some subsequent disturbance, had been set on end, like the strata of the sandstone rocks and chalk cliffs of alum bay. but though i was too ignorant to combat this notion successfully, it by no means satisfied me. i did not know that at the time of my visit this very question of slaty cleavage was exciting the greatest attention among english geologists, and i quitted the place with that feeling of intellectual discontent which, however unpleasant it may be for a time, is very useful as a stimulant, and perhaps as necessary to the true appreciation of knowledge as a healthy appetite is to the enjoyment of food. on inquiry i found that the subject had been treated by three english writers, professor sedgwick, mr. daniel sharpe, and mr. sorby. from professor sedgwick i learned that cleavage and stratification were things totally distinct from each other; that in many cases the strata could be observed with the cleavage passing through them at a high angle; and that this was the case throughout vast areas in north wales and cumberland. i read the lucid and important memoir of this eminent geologist with great interest: it placed the data of the problem before me, as far as they were then known, and i found myself, to some extent at least, in a condition to appreciate the value of a theoretic explanation. everybody has heard of the force of gravitation, and of that of cohesion; but there is a more subtle play of forces exerted by the molecules of bodies upon each other when these molecules possess sufficient freedom of action. in virtue of such forces, the ultimate particles of matter are enabled to build themselves up into those wondrous edifices which we call crystals. a diamond is a crystal self-erected from atoms of carbon; an amethyst is a crystal built up from particles of silica; iceland spar is a crystal built by particles of carbonate of lime. by artificial means we can allow the particles of bodies the free play necessary to their crystallization. thus a solution of saltpetre exposed to slow evaporation produces crystals of saltpetre; alum crystals of great size and beauty may be obtained in a similar manner; and in the formation of a bit of common sugar-candy there are agencies at play, the contemplation of which, as mere objects of thought, is sufficient to make the wisest philosopher bow down in wonder, and confess himself a child. [sidenote: crystallization theory.] the particles of certain crystalline bodies are found to arrange themselves in layers, like courses of atomic masonry, and along these layers such crystals may be easily cloven into the thinnest laminæ. some crystals possess _one_ such direction in which they may be cloven, some several; some, on the other hand, may be split with different facility in different directions. rock salt may be cloven with equal facility in three directions at right angles to each other; that is, it may be split into cubes; calcspar may be cloven in three directions oblique to each other; that is, into rhomboids. heavy spar may also be cloven in three directions, but one cleavage is much more perfect, or more _eminent_ as it is sometimes called, than the rest. mica is a crystal which cleaves very readily in one direction, and it is sufficiently tough to furnish films of extreme tenuity: finally, any boy, with sufficient skill, who tries a good crystal of sugar-candy in various directions with the blade of his penknife, will find that it possesses one direction in particular, along which, if the blade of the knife be placed and struck, the crystal will split into plates possessing clean and shining surfaces of cleavage. [sidenote: polar forces.] professor sedgwick was intimately acquainted with all these facts, and a great many more, when he investigated the cleavage of slate rocks; and seeing no other explanation open to him, he ascribed to slaty cleavage a crystalline origin. he supposed that the particles of slate rock were acted on, after their deposition, by "polar forces," which so arranged them as to produce the cleavage. according to this theory, therefore, honister crag and the cliffs of penrhyn are to be regarded as portions of enormous crystals; a length of time commensurate with the vastness of the supposed action being assumed to have elapsed between the deposition of the rock and its final crystallization. when, however, we look closely into this bold and beautiful hypothesis, we find that the only analogy which exists between the physical structure of slate rocks and of crystals is this single one of cleavage. such a coincidence might fairly give rise to the conjecture that both were due to a common cause; but there is great difficulty in accepting this as a theoretic truth. when we examine the structure of a slate rock, we find that the substance is composed of the débris of former rocks; that it was once a fine mud, composed of particles of _sensible magnitude_. is it meant that these particles, each taken as a whole, were re-arranged after deposition? if so, the force which effected such an arrangement must be wholly different from that of crystallization, for the latter is essentially _molecular_. what is this force? nature, as far as we know, furnishes none competent, under the conditions, to produce the effect. is it meant that the molecules composing these sensible particles have re-arranged themselves? we find no evidence of such an action in the individual fragments: the mica is still mica, and possesses all the properties of mica; and so of the other ingredients of which the rock is composed. independent of this, that an aggregate of heterogeneous mineral fragments should, without any assignable external cause, so shift its molecules as to produce a plane of cleavage common to them all, is, in my opinion, an assumption too heavy for any theory to bear. nevertheless, the paper of professor sedgwick invested the subject of slaty cleavage with an interest not to be forgotten, and proved the stimulus to further inquiry. the structure of slate rocks was more closely examined; the fossils which they contained were subjected to rigid scrutiny, and their shapes compared with those of the same species taken from other rocks. thus proceeding, the late mr. daniel sharpe found that the fossils contained in slate rocks are distorted in shape, being uniformly flattened out in the direction of the planes of cleavage. here, then, was a fact of capital importance,--the shells became the indicators of an action to which the mass containing them had been subjected; they demonstrated the operation of pressure acting at right angles to the planes of cleavage. [sidenote: mechanical theory.] the more the subject was investigated, the more clearly were the evidences of pressure made out. subsequent to mr. sharpe, mr. sorby entered upon this field of inquiry. with great skill and patience he prepared sections of slate rock, which he submitted to microscopic examination, and his observations showed that the evidences of pressure could be plainly traced, even in his minute specimens. the subject has been since ably followed up by professors haughton, harkness, and others; but to the two gentlemen first mentioned we are, i think, indebted for the prime facts on which rests the _mechanical theory_ of slaty cleavage.[a] [sidenote: lecture at the royal institution.] the observations just referred to showed the co-existence of the two phenomena, but they did not prove that pressure and cleavage stood to each other in the relation of cause and effect. "can the pressure produce the cleavage?" was still an open question, and it was one which mere reasoning, unaided by experiment, was incompetent to answer. sharpe despaired of an experimental solution, regarding our means as inadequate, and our time on earth too short to produce the result. mr. sorby was more hopeful. submitting mixtures of gypsum and oxide of iron scales to pressure, he found that the scales set themselves approximately at right angles to the direction in which the pressure was applied. the position of the scales resembled that of the plates of mica which his researches had disclosed to him in slate rock, and he inferred that the presence of such plates, and of flat or elongated fragments generally, lying all in the same general direction, was the cause of slaty cleavage. at the meeting of the british association at glasgow, in , i had the pleasure of seeing some of mr. sorby's specimens, and, though the cleavage they exhibited was very rough, still, the tendency to yield at right angles to the direction in which the pressure had been applied, appeared sufficiently manifest. at the time now referred to i was engaged, and had been for a long time previously, in examining the effects of pressure upon the magnetic force, and, as far back as , i had noticed that some of the bodies which i had subjected to pressure exhibited a cleavage of surpassing beauty and delicacy. the bearing of such facts upon the present question now forcibly occurred to me. i followed up the observations; visited slate yards and quarries, observed the exfoliation of rails, the fibres of iron, the structure of tiles, pottery, and cheese, and had several practical lessons in the manufacture of puff-paste and other laminated confectionery. my observations, i thought, pointed to a theory of slaty cleavage different from any previously given, and which, moreover, referred a great number of apparently unrelated phenomena to a common cause. on the th of june, , i made them the subject of a friday evening's discourse at the royal institution.[b] [sidenote: origin of researches.] such are the circumstances, apparently remote enough, under which my connexion with glaciers originated. my friend professor huxley was present at the lecture referred to: he was well acquainted with the work of professor forbes, entitled 'travels in the alps,' and he surmised that the question of slaty cleavage, in its new aspect, might have some bearing upon the laminated structure of glacier-ice discussed in the work referred to. he therefore urged me to read the 'travels,' which i did with care, and the book made the same impression upon me that it had produced upon my friend. we were both going to switzerland that year, and it required but a slight modification of our plans to arrange a joint excursion over some of the glaciers of the oberland, and thus afford ourselves the means of observing together the veined structure of the ice. had the results of this arrangement been revealed to me beforehand, i should have paused before entering upon an investigation which required of me so long a renunciation of my old and more favourite pursuits. but no man knows when he commences the examination of a physical problem into what new and complicated mental alliances it may lead him. no fragment of nature can be studied alone; each part is related to every other part; and hence it is, that, following up the links of law which connect phenomena, the physical investigator often finds himself led far beyond the scope of his original intentions, the danger in this respect augmenting in direct proportion to the wish of the inquirer to render his knowledge solid and complete. [sidenote: a boy's book.] when the idea of writing this book first occurred to me, it was not my intention to confine myself to the glaciers alone, but to make the work a vehicle for the familiar explanation of such general physical phenomena as had come under my notice. nor did i intend to address it to a cultured man of science, but to a youth of average intelligence, and furnished with the education which england now offers to the young. i wished indeed to make it a boy's class-book, which should reveal the mode of life, as well as the scientific objects, of an explorer of the alps. the incidents of the past year have caused me to deviate, in some degree, from this intention, but its traces will be sufficiently manifest; and this reference to it will, i trust, excuse an occasional liberty of style and simplicity of treatment which would be out of place if intended for a reader of riper years. footnotes: [a] mr. sorby has drawn my attention to an able and interesting paper by m. bauer, in karsten's 'archiv' for ; in which it is announced that cleavage is a tension of the mass _produced by pressure_. the author refers to the experiments of mr. hopkins as bearing upon the question. [b] see appendix. [sidenote: the oberland. .] expedition of . the oberland. ( .) on the th of august, , i received my alpenstock from the hands of dr. hooker, in the garden of the pension ober, at interlaken. it bore my name, not marked, however, by the vulgar brands of the country, but by the solar beams which had been converged upon it by the pocket lens of my friend. i was the companion of mr. huxley, and our first aim was to cross the wengern alp. light and shadow enriched the crags and green slopes as we advanced up the valley of lauterbrunnen, and each occupied himself with that which most interested him. my companion examined the drift, i the cleavage, while both of us looked with interest at the contortions of the strata to our left, and at the shadowy, unsubstantial aspect of the pines, gleaming through the sunhaze to our right. [sidenote: folded rocks. .] what was the physical condition of the rock when it was thus bent and folded like a pliant mass? was it necessarily softer than it is at present? i do not think so. the shock which would crush a railway carriage, if communicated to it at once, is harmless when distributed over the interval necessary for the pushing in of the buffer. by suddenly stopping a cock from which water flows you may burst the conveyance pipe, while a slow turning of the cock keeps all safe. might not a solid rock by ages of pressure be folded as above? it is a physical axiom that no body is perfectly hard, none perfectly soft, none perfectly elastic. the hardest body subjected to pressure yields, however little, and the same body when the pressure is removed cannot return to its original form. if it did not yield in the slightest degree it would be perfectly hard; if it could completely return to its original shape it would be perfectly elastic. let a pound weight be placed upon a cube of granite; the cube is flattened, though in an infinitesimal degree. let the weight be removed, the cube _remains_ a little flattened; it cannot quite return to its primitive condition. let us call the cube thus flattened no. . starting with no. as a new mass, let the pound weight be laid upon it; the mass yields, and on removing the weight it cannot return to the dimensions of no. ; we have a more flattened mass, no. . proceeding in this manner, it is manifest that by a repetition of the process we should produce a series of masses, each succeeding one more flattened than the former. this appears to be a necessary consequence of the physical axiom referred to above. now if, instead of removing and replacing the weight in the manner supposed, we cause it to rest continuously upon the cube, the flattening, which above was intermittent, will be continuous; no matter how hard the cube may be, there will be a gradual yielding of its mass under the pressure. apply this to squeezed rocks--to those, for example, which form the base of an obelisk like the matterhorn; that this base must yield, seems a certain consequence of the physical constitution of matter: the conclusion seems inevitable that the mountain is sinking by its own weight. let two points be fixed, one near the summit, the other near the base of the obelisk; next year these points will have approached each other. whether the amount of approach in a human lifetime be measureable we know not; but it seems certain that ages would leave their impress upon the mass, and render visible to the eye an action which at present is appreciable by the imagination only. [sidenote: the jungfrau and silberhorn. .] we halted on the night of the th at the jungfrau hotel, and next morning we saw the beams of the rising sun fall upon the peaked snow of the silberhorn. slowly and solemnly the pure white cone appeared to rise higher and higher into the sunlight, being afterwards mottled with gold and gloom, as clouds drifted between it and the sun. i descended alone towards the base of the mountain, making my way through a rugged gorge, the sides of which were strewn with pine-trees, splintered, broken across, and torn up by the roots. i finally reached the end of a glacier, formed by the snow and shattered ice which fall from the shoulders of the jungfrau. the view from this place had a savage magnificence such as i had not previously beheld, and it was not without some slight feeling of awe that i clambered up the end of the glacier. it was the first i had actually stood upon. the loneliness of the place was very impressive, the silence being only broken by fitful gusts of wind, or by the weird rattle of the débris which fell at intervals from the melting ice. [sidenote: avalanches. .] once i noticed what appeared to be the sudden and enormous augmentation of the waters of a cascade, but the sound soon informed me that the increase was due to an avalanche which had chosen the track of the cascade for its rush. soon afterwards my eyes were fixed upon a white slope some thousands of feet above me; i saw the ice give way, and, after a sensible interval, the thunder of another avalanche reached me. a kind of zigzag channel had been worn on the side of the mountain, and through this the avalanche rushed, hidden at intervals, and anon shooting forth, and leaping like a cataract down the precipices. the sound was sometimes continuous, but sometimes broken into rounded explosions which seemed to assert a passionate predominance over the general level of the roar. these avalanches, when they first give way, usually consist of enormous blocks of ice, which are more and more shattered as they descend. partly to the echoes of the first crash, but mainly, i think, to the shock of the harder masses which preserve their cohesion, the explosions which occur during the descent of the avalanche are to be ascribed. much of the ice is crushed to powder; and thus, when an avalanche pours cataract-like over a ledge, the heavier masses, being less influenced by the atmospheric resistance, shoot forward like descending rockets, leaving the lighter powder in trains behind them. such is the material of which a class of the smaller glaciers in the alps is composed. they are the products of avalanches, the crushed ice being recompacted into a solid mass, which exhibits on a smaller scale most of the characteristics of the large glaciers. after three hours' absence i reascended to the hotel, breakfasted, and afterwards returned with mr. huxley to the glacier. while we were engaged upon it the weather suddenly changed; lightning flashed about the summits of the jungfrau, and thunder "leaped" among her crags. heavy rain fell, but it cleared up afterwards with magical speed, and we returned to our hotel. heedless of the forebodings of many prophets of evil weather we set out for grindelwald. the scene from the summit of the little scheideck was exceedingly grand. the upper air exhibited a commotion which we did not experience; clouds were wildly driven against the flanks of the eiger, the jungfrau thundered behind, while in front of us a magnificent rainbow, fixing one of its arms in the valley of grindelwald, and, throwing the other right over the crown of the wetterhorn, clasped the mountain in its embrace. through jagged apertures in the clouds floods of golden light were poured down the sides of the mountain. on the slopes were innumerable chalets, glistening in the sunbeams, herds browsing peacefully and shaking their mellow bells; while the blackness of the pine-trees, crowded into woods, or scattered in pleasant clusters over alp and valley, contrasted forcibly with the lively green of the fields. [sidenote: the heisse platte. .] at grindelwald, on the th, we engaged a strong and competent guide, named christian kaufmann, and proceeded to the lower glacier. after a steep ascent, we gained a point from which we could look down upon the frozen mass. at first the ice presented an appearance of utter confusion, but we soon reached a position where the mechanical conditions of the glacier revealed themselves, and where we might learn, had we not known it before, that confusion is merely the unknown intermixture of laws, and becomes order and beauty when we rise to their comprehension. we reached the so-called eismeer--ice sea. in front of us was the range of the viescherhörner, and a vast snow slope, from which one branch of the glacier was fed. near the base of this _névé_, and surrounded on all sides by ice, lay a brown rock, to which our attention was directed as a place noted for avalanches; on this rock snow or ice never rests, and it is hence called the _heisse platte_--the hot plate. at the base of the rock, and far below it, the glacier was covered with clean crushed ice, which had fallen from a crown of frozen cliffs encircling the brow of the rock. one obelisk in particular signalised itself from all others by its exceeding grace and beauty. its general surface was dazzling white, but from its clefts and fissures issued a delicate blue light, which deepened in hue from the edges inwards. it stood upon a pedestal of its own substance, and seemed as accurately fixed as if rule and plummet had been employed in its erection. fig. represents this beautiful minaret of ice. [sidenote: ice minaret. .] [illustration: fig. . ice minaret.] while we were in sight of the heisse platte, a dozen avalanches rushed downwards from its summit. in most cases we were informed of the descent of an avalanche by the sound, but sometimes the white mass was seen gliding down the rock, and scattering its _smoke_ in the air, long before the sound reached us. it is difficult to reconcile the insignificant appearance presented by avalanches, when seen from a distance, with the volume of sound which they generate; but on this day we saw sufficient to account for the noise. one block of solid ice which we found below the heisse platte measured feet inches in length, feet inches in height, and feet inches in depth. a second mass was feet long, feet high, and feet wide. it contained therefore cubic feet of ice, which had been cast to a distance of nearly yards down the glacier. the shock of such hard and ponderous projectiles against rocks and ice, reinforced by the echoes from the surrounding mountains, will appear sufficient to account for the peals by which their descent is accompanied. [sidenote: echoes of the wetterhorn. .] a second day, in company with dr. hooker, completed the examination of this glacier in ; after which i parted from my friends, mr. huxley intending to rejoin me at the grimsel. on the morning of the th of august i strapped on my knapsack and ascended the green slopes from grindelwald towards the great scheideck. before reaching the summit i frequently heard the wonderful echoes of the wetterhorn. some travellers were in advance of me, and to amuse them an alpine horn was blown. the direct sound was cut off from me by a hill, but the echoes talked down to me from the mountain walls. the sonorous waves arrived after one, two, three, and more reflections, diminishing gradually in intensity, but increasing in softness, as if in its wanderings from crag to crag the sound had undergone a kind of sifting process, leaving all its grossness behind, and returning in delightful flute notes to the ear. let us investigate this point a little. if two looking-glasses be placed perfectly parallel to each other, with a lighted candle between them, an infinite series of images of the candle will be seen at both sides, the images diminishing in brightness the further they recede. but if the looking-glasses, instead of being parallel, enclose an angle, a limited number of images only will be seen. the smaller the angle which the reflectors make with each other, or, in other words, the nearer they approach parallelism, the greater will be the number of images observed. to find the number of images the following is the rule:--divide , or the number of degrees in a circle, by the number of degrees in the angle enclosed by the two mirrors, the quotient will be _one more_ than the number of images; or, counting the object itself, the quotient is always equal to the number of images plus the object. in fig. i have given the number and position of the images produced by two mirrors placed at an angle of °. a b and b c mark the edges of the mirrors, and represents the candle, which, for the sake of simplicity, i have placed midway between them. fix one point of a pair of compasses at b, and with the distance b sweep a circle:--_all the images will be ranged upon the circumference of this circle_. the number of images found by the foregoing rule is , and their positions are marked in the figure by the numbers , , , &c. [illustration: fig. . diagram of an angular reflector.] [sidenote: echoes explained. .] suppose the _ear_ to occupy the place of the eye, and that _a sounding body_ occupies the place of the luminous one, we should then have just as many _echoes_ as we had _images_ in the former case. these echoes would diminish in loudness just as the images of the candle diminish in brightness. at each reflection a portion both of sound and light is lost; hence the oftener light is reflected the dimmer it becomes, and the oftener sound is reflected the fainter it is. now the cliffs of the wetterhorn are so many rough angular reflectors of the sound: some of them send it back directly to the listener, and we have a first echo; some of them send it on to others from which it is again reflected, forming a second echo. thus, by repeated reflection, successive echoes are sent to the ear, until, at length, they become so faint as to be inaudible. the sound, as it diminishes in intensity, appears to come from greater and greater distances, as if it were receding into the mountain solitudes; the final echoes being inexpressibly soft and pure. [sidenote: reichenbach and handeck. .] after crossing the scheideck i descended to meyringen, visiting the reichenbach waterfall on my way. a peculiarity of the descending water here is, that it is broken up in one of the basins into nodular masses, each of which in falling leaves the light foaming mass which surrounds it as a train in the air behind; the effect exactly resembles that of the avalanches of the jungfrau, in which the more solid blocks of ice shoot forward in advance of the lighter débris, which is held back by the friction of the air. next day i ascended the valley of hasli, and observed upon the rocks and mountains the action of ancient glaciers which once filled the valley to the height of more than a thousand feet above its present level. i paused, of course, at the waterfall of handeck, and stood for a time upon the wooden bridge which spans the river at its top. the aar comes gambolling down to the bridge from its parent glacier, takes one short jump upon a projecting ledge, boils up into foam, and then leaps into a chasm, from the bottom of which its roar ascends through the gloom. a rivulet named the aarlenbach joins the aar from the left in the very jaws of the chasm: falling, at first, upon a projection at some depth below the edge, and, rebounding from this, it darts at the aar, and both plunge together like a pair of fighting demons to the bottom of the gorge. the foam of the aarlenbach is white, that of the aar is yellow, and this enables the observer to trace the passage of the one cataract _through_ the other. as i stood upon the bridge the sun shone brightly upon the spray and foam; my shadow was oblique to the river, and hence a symmetrical rainbow could not be formed in the spray, but one half of a lovely bow, with its base in the chasm, leaned over against the opposite rocks, the colours advancing and retreating as the spray shifted its position. i had been watching the water intently for some time, when a little swiss boy, who stood beside me, observed, in his trenchant german, "there plunge stones ever downwards." the stones were palpable enough, carried down by the cataract, and sometimes completely breaking loose from it, but i did not see them until my attention was withdrawn from the water. [sidenote: hut of m. dollfuss. .] on my arrival at the grimsel i found mr. huxley already there, and, after a few minutes' conversation, we decided to spend a night in a hut built by m. dollfuss in , beside the unteraar glacier, about feet above the hospice. we hoped thus to be able to examine the glacier to its origin on the following day. two days' food and some blankets were sent up from the hospice, and, accompanied by our guide, we proceeded to the glacier. [sidenote: hÔtel des neufchÂtelois. .] having climbed a great terminal moraine, and tramped for a considerable time amid loose shingle and boulders, we came upon the ice. the finest specimens of "tables" which i have ever seen are to be found upon this glacier--huge masses of clean granite poised on pedestals of ice. here are also "dirt-cones" of the largest size, and numerous shafts, the forsaken passages of ancient "moulins," some filled with water, others simply with deep blue light. i reserve the description and explanation of both cones and moulins for another place. the surfaces of some of the small pools were sprinkled lightly over with snow, which the water underneath was unable to melt; a coating of snow granules was thus formed, flexible as chain armour, but so close that the air could not escape through it. some bubbles which had risen through the water had lifted the coating here and there into little rounded domes, which, by gentle pressure, could be shifted hither and thither, and several of them collected into one. we reached the hut, the floor of which appeared to be of the original mountain slab; there was a space for cooking walled off from the sleeping-room, half of which was raised above the floor, and contained a quantity of old hay. the number mètres, the height, i suppose, of the place above the sea, was painted on the door, behind which were also the names of several well-known observers--agassiz, forbes, desor, dollfuss, ramsay, and others--cut in the wood. a loft contained a number of instruments for boring, a surveyor's chain, ropes, and other matters. after dinner i made my way alone towards the junction of the finsteraar and lauteraar glaciers, which unite at the abschwung to form the trunk stream of the unteraar glacier. upon the great central moraine which runs between the branches were perched enormous masses of rock, and, under the overhanging ledge of one of these, m. agassiz had his _hôtel des neufchâtelois_. the rock is still there, bearing traces of names now nearly obliterated by the weather, while the fragments around also bear inscriptions. there in the wilderness, in the gray light of evening, these blurred and faded evidences of human activity wore an aspect of sadness. it was a temple of science now in ruins, and i a solitary pilgrim to the desecrated blocks. as the day declined, rain began to fall, and i turned my face towards my new home; where in due time we betook ourselves to our hay, and waited hopefully for the morning. but our hopes were doomed to disappointment. a vast quantity of snow fell during the night, and, when we arose, we found the glacier covered, and the air thick with the descending flakes. we waited, hoping that it might clear up, but noon arrived and passed without improvement; our fire-wood was exhausted, the weather intensely cold, and, according to the men's opinion, hopelessly bad; they opposed the idea of ascending further, and we had therefore no alternative but to pack up and move downwards. what was snow at the higher elevations changed to rain lower down, and drenched us completely before we reached the grimsel. but though thus partially foiled in our design, this visit taught us much regarding the structure and general phenomena of the glacier. [sidenote: the rhone glacier. .] the morning of the th was clear and calm: we rose with the sun, refreshed and strong, and crossed the grimsel pass at an early hour. the view from the summit of the pass was lovely in the extreme; the sky a deep blue, the surrounding summits all enamelled with the newly-fallen snow, which gleamed with dazzling whiteness in the sunlight. it was sunday, and the scene was itself a sabbath, with no sound to disturb its perfect rest. in a lake which we passed the mountains were mirrored without distortion, for there was no motion of the air to ruffle its surface. from the summit of the mayenwand we looked down upon the rhone glacier, and a noble object it seemed,--i hardly know a finer of its kind in the alps. forcing itself through the narrow gorge which holds the ice cascade in its jaws, and where it is greatly riven and dislocated, it spreads out in the valley below in such a manner as clearly to reveal to the mind's eye the nature of the forces to which it is subjected. longfellow's figure is quite correct; the glacier resembles a vast gauntlet, of which the gorge represents the wrist; while the lower glacier, cleft by its fissures into finger-like ridges, is typified by the hand. furnishing ourselves with provisions at the adjacent inn, we devoted some hours to the examination of the lower portion of the glacier. the dirt upon its surface was arranged in grooves as fine as if produced by the passage of a rake, while the laminated structure of the deeper ice always corresponded to the superficial grooving. we found several shafts, some empty, some filled with water. at one place our attention was attracted by a singular noise, evidently produced by the forcing of air and water through passages in the body of the glacier; the sound rose and fell for several minutes, like a kind of intermittent snore, reminding one of hugi's hypothesis that the glacier was alive. [sidenote: rings around the sun. .] we afterwards climbed to a point from which the whole glacier was visible to us from its origin to its end. adjacent to us rose the mighty mass of the finsteraarhorn, the monarch of the oberland. the galenstock was also at hand, while round about the _névé_ of the glacier a mountain wall projected its jagged outline against the sky. at a distance was the grand cone of the weisshorn, then, and i believe still, unscaled;[a] further to the left the magnificent peaks of the mischabel; while between them, in savage isolation, stood the obelisk of the matterhorn. near us was the chain of the furca, all covered with shining snow, while overhead the dark blue of the firmament so influenced the general scene as to inspire a sentiment of wonder approaching to awe. we descended to the glacier, and proceeded towards its source. as we advanced an unusual light fell upon the mountains, and looking upwards we saw a series of coloured rings, drawn like a vivid circular rainbow quite round the sun. between the orb and us spread a thin veil of cloud on which the circles were painted; the western side of the veil soon melted away, and with it the colours, but the eastern half remained a quarter of an hour longer, and then in its turn disappeared. the crevasses became more frequent and dangerous as we ascended. they were usually furnished with overhanging eaves of snow, from which long icicles depended, and to tread on which might be fatal. we were near the source of the glacier, but the time necessary to reach it was nevertheless indefinite, so great was the entanglement of fissures. we followed one huge chasm for some hundreds of yards, hoping to cross it; but after half an hour's fruitless effort we found ourselves baffled and forced to retrace our steps. [sidenote: spirit of the brocken. .] the sun was sloping to the west, and we thought it wise to return; so down the glacier we went, mingling our footsteps with the tracks of chamois, while the frightened marmots piped incessantly from the rocks. we reached the land once more, and halted for a time to look upon the scene within view. the marvellous blueness of the sky in the earlier part of the day indicated that the air was charged, almost to saturation, with transparent aqueous vapour. as the sun sank the shadow of the finsteraarhorn was cast through the adjacent atmosphere, which, thus deprived of the direct rays, curdled up into visible fog. the condensed vapour moved slowly along the flanks of the mountain, and poured itself cataract-like into the valley of the rhone. here it met the sun again, which reduced it once more to the invisible state. thus, though there was an incessant supply from the generator behind, the fog made no progress; as in the case of the moving glacier, the end of the cloud-river remained stationary where consumption was equal to supply. proceeding along the mountain to the furca, we found the valley at the further side of the pass also filled with fog, which rose, like a wall, high above the region of actual shadow. once on turning a corner an exclamation of surprise burst simultaneously from my companion and myself. before each of us and against the wall of fog, stood a spectral image of a man, of colossal dimensions; dark as a whole, but bounded by a coloured outline. we stretched forth our arms; the spectres did the same. we raised our alpenstocks; the spectres also flourished their bâtons. all our actions were imitated by these fringed and gigantic shades. we had, in fact, _the spirit of the brocken_ before us in perfection. at the time here referred to i had had but little experience of alpine phenomena. i had been through the oberland in , but was then too ignorant to learn much from my excursion. hence the novelty of this day's experience may have rendered it impressive: still even now i think there was an intrinsic grandeur in its phenomena which entitles the day to rank with the most remarkable that i have spent among the alps. at the furca, to my great regret, the joint ramblings of my friend and myself ended; i parted from him on the mountain side, and watched him descending, till the gray of evening finally hid him from my view. footnotes: [a] the weisshorn was first scaled, by tyndall, in .--l. c. t. [sidenote: the tyrol. .] the tyrol. ( .) my subsequent destination was vienna; but i wished to associate with my journey thither a visit to some of the glaciers of the tyrol. at landeck, on the th of august, i learned that the nearest glacier was that adjacent to the gebatsch alp, at the head of the kaunserthal; and on the following morning i was on my way towards this valley. i sought to obtain a guide at kaltebrunnen, but failed; and afterwards walked to the little hamlet of feuchten, where i put up at a very lonely inn. my host, i believe, had never seen an englishman, but he had heard of such, and remarked to me in his patois with emphasis, "_die engländer sind die kühnsten leute in dieser welt._" through his mediation i secured a chamois-hunter, named johann auer, to be my guide, and next morning i started with this man up the valley. the sun, as we ascended, smote the earth and us with great power; high mountains flanked us on either side, while in front of us, closing the view, was the mass of the weisskugel, covered with snow. at three o'clock we came in sight of the glacier, and soon afterwards i made the acquaintance of the _senner_ or cheesemakers of the gebatsch alp. [sidenote: the gebatsch alp. .] the chief of these was a fine tall fellow, with free, frank countenance, which, however, had a dash of the mountain wildness in it. his feet were bare, he wore breeches, and fragments of stockings partially covered his legs, leaving a black zone between the upper rim of the sock and the breeches. his feet and face were of the same swarthy hue; still he was handsome, and in a measure pleasant to look upon. he asked me what he could cook for me, and i requested some bread and milk; the former was a month old, the latter was fresh and delicious, and on these i fared sumptuously. i went to the glacier afterwards with my guide, and remained upon the ice until twilight, when we returned, guided by no path, but passing amid crags grasped by the gnarled roots of the pine, through green dells, and over bilberry knolls of exquisite colouring. my guide kept in advance of me singing a tyrolese melody, and his song and the surrounding scene revived and realised all the impressions of my boyhood regarding the tyrol. milking was over when we returned to the chalet, which now contained four men exclusive of myself and my guide. a fire of pine logs was made upon a platform of stone, elevated three feet above the floor; there was no chimney, as the smoke found ample vent through the holes and fissures in the sides and roof. the men were all intensely sunburnt, the legitimate brown deepening into black with beard and dirt. the chief senner prepared supper, breaking eggs into a dish, and using his black fingers to empty the shell when the albumen was refractory. a fine erect figure he was as he stood in the glowing light of the fire. all the men were smoking, and now and then a brand was taken from the fire to light a renewed pipe, and a ruddy glare flung thereby over the wild countenance of the smoker. in one corner of the chalet, and raised high above the ground, was a large bed, covered with clothes of the most dubious black-brown hue; at one end was a little water-wheel turned by a brook, which communicated motion to a churndash which made the butter. the beams and rafters were covered with cheeses, drying in the warm smoke. the senner, at my request, showed me his storeroom, and explained to me the process of making cheese, its interest to me consisting in its bearing upon the question of slaty cleavage. three gigantic masses of butter were in the room, and i amused my host by calling them butter-glaciers. soon afterwards a bit of cotton was stuck in a lump of grease, which was placed in a lantern, and the wick ignited; the chamois-hunter took it, and led the way to our resting-place, i having previously declined a good-natured invitation to sleep in the big black bed already referred to. [sidenote: an alpine chalet. .] there was a cowhouse near the chalet, and above it, raised on pillars of pine, and approached by a ladder, was a loft, which contained a quantity of dry hay: this my guide shook to soften the lumps, and erected an eminence for my head. i lay down, drawing my plaid over me, but auer affirmed that this would not be a sufficient protection against the cold; he therefore piled hay upon me to the shoulders, and proposed covering up my head also. this, however, i declined, though the biting coldness of the air, which sometimes blew in upon us, afterwards proved to me the wisdom of the suggestion. having set me right, my chamois-hunter prepared a place for himself, and soon his heavy breathing informed me that he was in a state of bliss which i could only envy. one by one the stars crossed the apertures in the roof. once the pleiades hung above me like a cluster of gems; i tried to admire them, but there was no fervour in my admiration. sometimes i dozed, but always as this was about to deepen into positive sleep it was rudely broken by the clamour of a group of pigs which occupied the ground-floor of our dwelling. the object of each individual of the group was to secure for himself the maximum amount of heat, and hence the outside members were incessantly trying to become inside ones. it was the struggle of radical and conservative among the pachyderms, the politics being determined by the accident of position. [sidenote: the gebatsch glacier. .] i rose at five o'clock on the st of september, and after a breakfast of black bread and milk ascended the glacier as far as practicable. we once quitted it, crossed a promontory, and descended upon one of its branches, which was flanked by some fine old moraines. we here came upon a group of seven marmots, which with yells of terror scattered themselves among the rocks. the points of the glacier beyond my reach i examined through a telescope; along the faces of the sections the lines of stratification were clearly shown; and in many places where the mass showed manifest signs of lateral pressure, i thought i could observe the cleavage passing though the strata. the point, however, was too important to rest upon an observation made from such a distance, and i therefore abstained from mentioning it subsequently. i examined the fissures and the veining, and noticed how the latter became most perfect in places where the pressure was greatest. the effect of _oblique_ pressure was also finely shown: at one place the thrust of the descending glacier was opposed by the resistance offered by the side of the valley, the direction of the force being oblique to the side; the consequence was a structure nearly parallel to the valley, and consequently oblique to the thrust which i believe to be its cause. [sidenote: a chamois on the rocks. .] after five hours' examination we returned to our chalet, where we refreshed ourselves, put our things in order, and faced a nameless "joch," or pass; our aim being to cross the mountains into the valley of lantaufer, and reach graun that evening. after a rough ascent over the alp we came to the dead crag, where the weather had broken up the mountains into ruinous heaps of rock and shingle. we reached the end of a glacier, the ice of which was covered by sloppy snow, and at some distance up it came upon an islet of stones and débris, where we paused to rest ourselves. my guide, as usual, ranged over the summits with his telescope, and at length exclaimed, "i see a chamois." the creature stood upon a cliff some hundreds of yards to our left, and seemed to watch our movements. it was a most graceful animal, and its life and beauty stood out in forcible antithesis to the surrounding savagery and death. on the steep slopes of the glacier i was assisted by the hand of my guide. in fact, on this day i deemed places dangerous, and dreaded them as such, which subsequent practice enabled me to regard with perfect indifference; so much does what we call courage depend upon habit, or on the fact of knowing that we have really nothing to fear. doubtless there are times when a climber has to make up his mind for very unpleasant possibilities, and even gather calmness from the contemplation of the worst; but in most cases i should say that his courage is derived from the latent feeling that the chances of safety are immensely in his favour. [sidenote: passage of a joch. .] after a tough struggle we reached the narrow row of crags which form the crest of the pass, and looked into the world of mountain and cloud on the other side. the scene was one of stern grandeur--the misty lights and deep cloud-glooms being so disposed as to augment the impression of vastness which the scene conveyed. the breeze at the summit was exceedingly keen, but it gave our muscles tone, and we sprang swiftly downward through the yielding débris which here overlies the mountain, and in which we sometimes sank to the knees. lower down we came once more upon the ice. the glacier had at one place melted away from its bounding cliff, which rose vertically to our right, while a wall of ice or feet high was on our left. between the two was a narrow passage, the floor of which was snow, which i knew to be hollow beneath: my companion, however, was in advance of me, and he being the heavier man, where he trod i followed without hesitation. on turning an angle of the rock i noticed an expression of concern upon his countenance, and he muttered audibly, "i did not expect this." the snow-floor had, in fact, given way, and exposed to view a clear green lake, one boundary of which was a sheer precipice of rock, and the other the aforesaid wall of ice; the latter, however, curved a little at its base, so as to form a short steep slope which overhung the water. my guide first tried the slope alone; biting the ice with his shoe-nails, and holding on by the spike of his bâton, he reached the other side. he then returned, and, divesting myself of all superfluous clothes, as a preparation for the plunge which i fully expected, i also passed in safety. probably the consciousness that i had water to fall into instead of pure space, enabled me to get across without anxiety or mischance; but had i, like my guide, been unable to swim, my feelings would have been far different. this accomplished, we went swiftly down the valley, and the more i saw of my guide the more i liked him. he might, if he wished, have made his day's journey shorter by stopping before he reached graun, but he would not do so. every word he said to me regarding distances was true, and there was not the slightest desire shown to magnify his own labour. i learnt by mere accident that the day's work had cut up his feet, but his cheerfulness and energy did not bate a jot till he had landed me in the black eagle at graun. next morning he came to my room, and said that he felt sufficiently refreshed to return home. i paid him what i owed him, when he took my hand, and, silently bending down his head, kissed it; then, standing erect, he stretched forth his right hand, which i grasped firmly in mine, and bade him farewell; and thus i parted from johann auer, my brave and truthful chamois-hunter. on the following day i met dr. frankland in the finstermuntz pass, and that night we bivouacked together at mals. heavy rain fell throughout the night, but it came from a region high above that of liquidity. it was first snow, which, as it descended through the warmer strata of the atmosphere, was reduced to water. overhead, in the air, might be traced a surface, below which the precipitate was liquid, above which it was solid; and this surface, intersecting the mountains which surround mals, marked upon them a beautifully-defined _snow-line_, below which the pines were dark and the pastures green, but above which pines and pastures and crags were covered with the freshly-fallen snow. [sidenote: the stelvio. .] [sidenote: colour of fresh snow. .] on the nd of september we crossed the stelvio. the brown cone of the well-known madatschspitze was clear, but the higher summits were clouded, and the fragments of sunshine which reached the lower world wandered like gleams of fluorescent light over the glaciers. near the snow-line the partial melting of the snow had rendered it coarsely granular, but as we ascended it became finer, and the light emitted from its cracks and cavities a pure and deep blue. when a staff was driven into the snow low down the mountain, the colour of the light in the orifice was scarcely sensibly blue, but higher up this increased in a wonderful degree, and at the summit the effect was marvellous. i struck my staff into the snow, and turned it round and round; the surrounding snow cracked repeatedly, and flashes of blue light issued from the fissures. the fragments of snow that adhered to the staff were, by contrast, of a beautiful pink yellow, so that, on moving the staff with such fragments attached to it up and down, it was difficult to resist the impression that a pink flame was ascending and descending in the hole. as we went down the other side of the pass, the effect became more and more feeble, until, near the snow-line, it almost wholly disappeared. we remained that night at the baths of bormio, but the following afternoon being fine we wished to avail ourselves of the fair weather to witness the scene from the summit of the pass. twilight came on before we reached santa maria, but a gorgeous orange overspread the western horizon, from which we hoped to derive sufficient light. it was a little too late when we reached the top, but still the scene was magnificent. a multitude of mountains raised their crowns towards heaven, while above all rose the snow-white cone of the ortler. far into the valley the giant stretched his granite limbs, until they were hid from us by darkness. as this deepened, the heavens became more and more crowded with stars, which blazed like gems over the heads of the mountains. at times the silence was perfect, unbroken save by the crackling of the frozen snow beneath our own feet; while at other times a breeze would swoop down upon us, keen and hostile, scattering the snow from the roofs of the wooden galleries in frozen powder over us. long after night had set in, a ghastly gleam rested upon the summit of the ortler, while the peaks in front deepened to a dusky neutral tint, the more distant ones being lost in gloom. we descended at a swift pace to trafoi, which we reached before p.m. [sidenote: singular hailstorm. .] meran was our next resting-place, whence we turned through the schnalzerthal to unserfrau, and thence over the hochjoch to fend. from a religious procession we took a guide, who, though partly intoxicated, did his duty well. before reaching the summit of the pass we were assailed by a violent hailstorm, each hailstone being a frozen cone with a rounded end. had not their motion through the air something to do with the shape of these hailstones? the theory of meteorites now generally accepted is that they are small planetary bodies drawn to the earth by gravity, and brought to incandescence by friction against the earth's atmosphere. such a body moving through the atmosphere must have condensed hot air in front of it, and rarefied cool air behind it; and the same is true to a small extent of a hailstone. this distribution of temperature must, i imagine, have some influence on the shape of the stone. possibly also the stratified appearance of some hailstones may be connected with this action.[a] [sidenote: the hochjoch and fend. .] the hail ceased and the heights above us cleared as we ascended. at the top of the pass we found ourselves on the verge of a great _névé_, which lay between two ranges of summits, sloping down to the base of each range from a high and rounded centre: a wilder glacier scene i have scarcely witnessed. wishing to obtain a more perfect view of the region, i diverged from the track followed by dr. frankland and the guide, and climbed a ridge of snow about half a mile to the right of them. a glorious expanse was before me, stretching itself in vast undulations, and heaping itself here and there into mountainous cones, white and pure, with the deep blue heaven behind them. here i had my first experience of hidden crevasses, and to my extreme astonishment once found myself in the jaws of a fissure of whose existence i had not the slightest notice. such accidents have often occurred to me since, but the impression made by the first is likely to remain the strongest. it was dark when we reached the wretched wirthshaus at fend, where, badly fed, badly lodged, and disturbed by the noise of innumerable rats, we spent the night. thus ended my brief glacier expedition of ; and on the observations then made, and on subsequent experiments, was founded a paper presented to the royal society by mr. huxley and myself.[b] footnotes: [a] i take the following account of a grander storm of the above character from hooker's 'himalayan journals,' vol. ii. p. . "on the th (march, ) we had a change in the weather: a violent storm from the south-west occurred at noon, with hail of a strange form, the stones being sections of hollow spheres, half an inch across and upwards, formed of cones with truncated apices and convex bases: these cones were aggregated together with their bases outwards. the large masses were followed by a shower of the separate conical pieces, and that by heavy rain. on the mountains this storm was most severe: the stones lay at darjeeling for seven days, congealed into masses of ice several feet long and a foot thick in sheltered places: at purneah, fifty miles south, stones one and two inches across fell, probably as whole spheres." [b] 'phil. trans.' , pp. - .--l. c. t. [sidenote: the lake of geneva. .] expedition of . the lake of geneva. ( .) the time occupied in the observations of embraced about five whole days; and though these days were laborious and instructive, still so short a time proved to be wholly incommensurate with the claims of so wide a problem. during the subsequent experimental treatment of the subject, i had often occasion to feel the incompleteness of my knowledge, and hence arose the desire to make a second expedition to the alps, for the purpose of expanding, fortifying, or, if necessary, correcting first impressions. on thursday, the th of july, , i found myself upon the lake of geneva, proceeding towards vevey. i had long wished to see the waters of this renowned inland sea, the colour of which is perhaps more interesting to the man of science than to the poets who have sung about it. long ago its depth of blue excited attention, but no systematic examination of the subject has, so far as i know, been attempted. it may be that the lake simply exhibits the colour of pure water. ice is blue, and it is reasonable to suppose that the liquid obtained from the fusion of ice is of the same colour; but still the question presses--"is the blue of the lake of geneva to be entirely accounted for in this way?" the attempts which have been made to explain it otherwise show that at least a doubt exists as to the sufficiency of the above explanation. [sidenote: blueness of the water. .] it is only in its deeper portions that the colour of the lake is properly seen. where the bottom comes into view the pure effect of the water is disturbed; but where the water is deep the colour is deep: between rolle and nyon for example, the blue is superb. where the blue was deepest, however, it gave me the impression of turbidity rather than of deep transparency. at the upper portion of the lake the water through which the steamer passed was of a blue green. wishing to see the place where the rhone enters the lake, i walked on the morning of the th from villeneuve to novelle, and thence through the woods to the river side. proceeding along an embankment, raised to defend the adjacent land from the incursions of the river, an hour brought me to the place where it empties itself into the lake. the contrast between the two waters was very great: the river was almost white with the finely divided matter which it held in suspension; while the lake at some distance was of a deep ultramarine. the lake in fact forms a reservoir where the particles held in suspension by the river have time to subside, and its waters to become pure. the subsidence of course takes place most copiously at the head of the lake; and here the deposit continues to form new land, adding year by year to the thousands of acres which it has already left behind it, and invading more and more the space occupied by the water. innumerable plates of mica spangled the fine sand which the river brought down, and these, mixing with the water, and flashing like minute mirrors as the sun's rays fell upon them, gave the otherwise muddy stream a silvery appearance. had i an opportunity i would make the following experiments:-- (_a_.) compare the colour of the light transmitted by a column of the lake water fifteen feet long with that transmitted by a second column, of the same length, derived from the melting of freshly fallen mountain snow. (_b_.) compare in the same manner the colour of the ordinary water of the lake with that of the same water after careful distillation. (_c_.) strictly examine whether the light transmitted by the ordinary water contains an excess of red over that transmitted by the distilled water: this latter point, as will be seen farther on, is one of peculiar interest. the length is fixed at fifteen feet, because i have found this length extremely efficient in similar experiments. [illustration: fig. , . boats' sails inverted by atmospheric refraction.] [sidenote: atmospheric refraction. .] on returning to the pier at villeneuve, a peculiar flickering motion was manifest upon the surface of the distant portions of the lake, and i soon noticed that the coast line was inverted by atmospheric refraction. it required a long distance to produce the effect: no trace of it was seen about the castle of chillon, but at vevey and beyond it, the whole coast was clearly inverted; and the houses on the margin of the lake were also imaged to a certain height. two boats at a considerable distance presented the appearance sketched in figs. and ; the hull of each, except a small portion at the end, was invisible, but the sails seemed lifted up high in the air, with their inverted images below; as the boats drew nearer the hulls appeared inverted, the apparent height of the vessel above the surface of the lake being thereby nearly doubled, while the sails and higher objects, in these cases, were almost completely cut away. when viewed through a telescope the sensible horizon of the lake presented a billowy tumultuous appearance, fragments being incessantly detached from it and suspended in the air. [sidenote: mirage. .] the explanation of this effect is the same as that of the mirage of the desert, which may be found in almost any book on physics, and which so tantalized the french soldiers in egypt. they often mistook this aërial inversion for the reflection from a lake, and on trial found hot and sterile sand at the place where they expected refreshing waters. the effect was shown by monge, one of the learned men who accompanied the expedition, to be due to the total reflection of very oblique rays at the upper surface of the layer of rarefied air which was nearest to the heated earth. a sandy plain, in the early part of the day, is peculiarly favourable for the production of such effects; and on the extensive flat strand which stretches between mont st. michel and the coast adjacent to avranches in normandy, i have noticed mont tombeline reflected as if glass instead of sand surrounded it and formed its mirror. [sidenote: chamouni and the montanvert. .] chamouni and the montanvert. ( .) on the evening of the th of july i reached chamouni; the weather was not quite clear, but it was promising; white cumuli had floated round mont blanc during the day, but these diminished more and more, and the light of the setting sun was of that lingering rosy hue which bodes good weather. two parallel beams of a purple tinge were drawn by the shadows of the adjacent peaks, straight across the glacier des bossons, and the glacier des pèlerins was also steeped for a time in the same purple light. once when the surrounding red illumination was strong, the shadows of the grands mulets falling upon the adjacent snow appeared of a vivid green. this green belonged to the class of _subjective_ colours, or colours produced by contrast, about which a volume might be written. the eye received the impression of green, but the colour was not external to the eye. place a red wafer on white paper, and look at it intently, it will be surrounded in a little time by a green fringe: move the wafer bodily away, and the entire space which it occupied upon the paper will appear green. a body may have its proper colour entirely masked in this way. let a red wafer be attached to a piece of red glass, and from a moderately illuminated position let the sky be regarded through the glass; the wafer will appear of a vivid green. if a strong beam of light be sent through a red glass and caused to fall upon a screen, which at the same time is moderately illuminated by a separate source of white light, an opaque body placed in the path of the beam will cast a green shadow upon the screen which may be seen by several hundred persons at once. if a blue glass be used, the shadow will be yellow, which is the complementary colour to blue. [sidenote: coloured shadows. .] when we suddenly pass from open sunlight to a moderately illuminated room, it appears dark at first, but after a little time the eye regains the power of seeing objects distinctly. thus one effect of light upon the eye is to render it less sensitive, and light of any particular colour falling upon the eye blunts its appreciation of that colour. let us apply this to the shadow upon the screen. this shadow is moderately illuminated by a jet of white light; but the space surrounding it is red, the effect of which upon the eye is to blind it in some degree to the perception of red. hence, when the feeble white light of the shadow reaches the eye, the red component of this light is, as it were, abstracted from it, and the eye sees the residual colour, which is green. a similar explanation applies to the shadows of the grands mulets. on the th of july i was joined by my friend mr. thomas hirst, and on the th we examined together the end of the mer de glace. in former times the whole volume of the arveiron escaped from beneath the ice at the end of the glacier, forming a fine arch at its place of issue. this year a fraction only of the water thus found egress; the greater portion of it escaping laterally from the glacier at the summit of the rocks called _les mottets_, down which it tumbled in a fine cascade. the vault at the end of the glacier was nevertheless respectable, and rather tempting to a traveller in search of information regarding the structure of the ice. perhaps, however, nature meant to give me a friendly warning at the outset, for, while speculating as to the wisdom of entering the cavern, it suddenly gave way, and, with a crash which rivalled thunder, the roof strewed itself in ruins upon the floor. [sidenote: sunrise at chamouni. .] many years ago i had read with delight coleridge's poem entitled 'sunrise in the valley of chamouni,' and to witness in all perfection the scene described by the poet, i waited at chamouni a day longer than was otherwise necessary. on the morning of wednesday, the th of july, i rose before the sun; mont blanc and his wondrous staff of aiguilles were without a cloud; eastward the sky was of a pale orange which gradually shaded off to a kind of rosy violet, and this again blended by imperceptible degrees with the deep zenithal blue. the morning star was still shining to the right, and the moon also turned a pale face towards the rising day. the valley was full of music; from the adjacent woods issued a gush of song, while the sound of the arve formed a suitable bass to the shriller melody of the birds. the mountain rose for a time cold and grand, with no apparent stain upon his snows. suddenly the sunbeams struck his crown and converted it into a boss of gold. for some time it remained the only gilded summit in view, holding communion with the dawn while all the others waited in silence. these, in the order of their heights, came afterwards, relaxing, as the sunbeams struck each in succession, into a blush and smile. [sidenote: glacier des bois. .] on the same day we had our luggage transported to the montanvert, while we clambered along the lateral moraine of the glacier to the chapeau. the rocks alongside the glacier were beautifully scratched and polished, and i paid particular attention to them, for the purpose of furnishing myself with a key to ancient glacier action. the scene to my right was one of the most wonderful i had ever witnessed. along the entire slope of the glacier des bois, the ice was cleft and riven into the most striking and fantastic forms. it had not yet suffered much from the wasting influence of the summer weather, but its towers and minarets sprang from the general mass with clean chiselled outlines. some stood erect, others leaned, while the white débris, strewn here and there over the glacier, showed where the wintry edifices had fallen, breaking themselves to pieces, and grinding the masses on which they fell to powder. some of them gave way during our inspection of the place, and shook the valley with the reverberated noise of their fall. i endeavoured to get near them, but failed; the chasms at the margin of the glacier were too dangerous, and the stones resting upon the heights too loosely poised to render persistence in the attempt excusable. we subsequently crossed the glacier to the montanvert, and i formally took up my position there. the rooms of the hotel were separated from each other by wooden partitions merely, and thus the noise of early risers in one room was plainly heard in the next. for the sake of quiet, therefore, i had my bed placed in the _château_ next door,--a little octagonal building erected by some kind and sentimental frenchman, and dedicated "_à la nature_." my host at first demurred, thinking the place not "_propre_," but i insisted, and he acquiesced. true the stone floor was dark with moisture, and on the walls a glistening was here and there observable, which suggested rheumatism, and other penalties, but i had had no experience of rheumatism, and trusted to the strength which mountain air and exercise were sure to give me, for power to resist its attacks. moreover, to dispel some of the humidity, it was agreed that a large pine fire should be made there on necessary occasions. [sidenote: quarters at the montanvert. .] though singularly favoured on the whole, still our residence at the montanvert was sufficiently long to give us specimens of all kinds of weather; and thus my château derived an interest from the mutations of external nature. sometimes no breath disturbed the perfect serenity of the night, and the moon, set in a black-blue sky, turned a face of almost supernatural brightness to the mountains, while in her absence the thick-strewn stars alone flashed and twinkled through the transparent air. sometimes dull dank fog choked the valley, and heavy rain plashed upon the stones outside. on two or three occasions we were favoured by a thunderstorm, every peal of which broke into a hundred echoes, while the seams of lightning which ran through the heavens produced a wonderful intermittence of gloom and glare. and as i sat within, musing on the experiences of the day, with my pine logs crackling, and the ruddy fire-light gleaming over the walls, and lending animation to the visages sketched upon them with charcoal by the guides, i felt that my position was in every way worthy of a student of nature. the mer de glace. ( .) [sidenote: a river of ice. .] the name "mer de glace" has doubtless led many who have never seen this glacier to a totally erroneous conception of its character. misled probably by this term, a distinguished writer, for example, defines a glacier to be a sheet of ice spread out upon the slope of a mountain; whereas the mer de glace is indeed a _river_, and not a _sea_ of ice. but certain forms upon its surface, often noticed and described, and which i saw for the first time from the window of our hotel on the morning of the th of july, suggest at once the origin of the name. the glacier here has the appearance of a sea which, after it had been tossed by a storm, had suddenly stiffened into rest. the ridges upon its surface accurately resemble waves in shape, and this singular appearance is produced in the following way:-- some distance above the montanvert--opposite to the echelets--the glacier, in passing down an incline, is rent by deep fissures, between each two of which a ridge of ice intervenes. at first the edges of these ridges are sharp and angular, but they are soon sculptured off by the action of the sun. the bearing of the mer de glace being approximately north and south, the sun at mid-day shines down the glacier, or rather very obliquely across it; and the consequence is, that the fronts of the ridges, which look downward, remain in shadow all the day, while the backs of the ridges, which look up the glacier, meet the direct stroke of the solar rays. the ridges thus acted upon have their hindmost angles wasted off and converted into slopes which represent the _back_ of a wave, while the opposite sides of the ridges, which are protected from the sun, preserve their steepness, and represent the _front_ of the wave. fig. will render my meaning at once plain. [sidenote: frozen waves. .] [illustration: fig. . wave-like forms on the mer de glace.] the dotted lines are intended to represent three of the ridges into which the glacier is divided, with their interposed fissures; the dots representing the boundaries of the ridges when the glacier is first broken. the parallel shading lines represent the direction of the sun's rays, which, falling obliquely upon the ridges, waste away the right-hand corners, and finally produce wave-like forms. we spent a day or two in making the general acquaintance of the glacier. on the th we ascended till we came to the rim of the talèfre basin, from which we had a good view of the glacier system of the region. the laminated structure of the ice was a point which particularly interested me; and as i saw the exposed sections of the _névé_, counted the lines of stratification, and compared these with the lines upon the ends of the secondary glaciers, i felt the absolute necessity either of connecting the veined _structure_ with the _strata_ by a continuous chain of observations, or of proving by ocular evidence that they were totally distinct from each other. i was well acquainted with the literature of the subject, but nothing that i had read was sufficient to prove what i required. strictly speaking, nothing that had been written upon the subject rose above the domain of _opinion_, while i felt that without absolute _demonstration_ the question would never be set at rest. [illustration: fig. . glacier table.] [sidenote: glacier tables. .] on this day we saw some fine glacier tables; flat masses of rock, raised high upon columns of ice: fig. is a sketch of one of the finest of them. some of them fell from their pedestals while we were near them, and the clean ice-surfaces which they left behind sparkled with minute stars as the small bubbles of air ruptured the film of water by which they were overspread. i also noticed that "petit bruit de crépitation," to which m. agassiz alludes, and which he refers to the rupture of the ice by the expansion of the air-bubbles contained within it. when i first read agassiz's account of it, i thought it might be produced by the rupture of the minute air-bubbles which incessantly escape from the glacier. this, doubtless, produces an effect, but there is something in the character of the sound to be referred, i think, to a less obvious cause, which i shall notice further on. [sidenote: first sight of the dirt-bands. .] at six p.m. this day i reached the montanvert; and the same evening, wrapping my plaid around me, i wandered up towards charmoz, and from its heights observed, as they had been observed fifteen years previously by professor forbes, the _dirt-bands_ of the mer de glace. they were different from any i had previously seen, and i felt a strong desire to trace them to their origin. content, however, with the performance of the day, and feeling healthily tired by it, i lay down upon the bilberry bushes and fell asleep. it was dark when i awoke, and i experienced some difficulty and risk in getting down from the petty eminence referred to. the illumination of the glacier, as remarked by professor forbes, has great influence upon the appearance of the bands; they are best seen in a subdued light, and i think for the following reasons:-- the dirt-bands are seen simply because they send less light to the eye than the cleaner portions of the glacier which lie between them; two surfaces, differently illuminated, are presented to the eye, and it is found that this difference is more observable when the light is that of evening than when it is that of noon. it is only within certain limits that the eye is able to perceive differences of intensity in different lights; beyond a certain intensity, if i may use the expression, light ceases to be light, and becomes mere pain. the naked eye can detect no difference in brightness between the electric light and the lime light, although, when we come to strict measurement, the former may possess many times the intensity of the latter. it follows from this that we might reduce the ordinary electric light to a fraction of its intensity, without any perceptible change of brightness to the naked eye which looks at it. but if we reduce the lime light in the same proportion the effect would be very different. this light lies much nearer to the limit at which the eye can appreciate differences of brightness, and its reduction might bring it quite within this limit, and make it sensibly dimmer than before. hence we see that when two sources of intense light are presented to the eye, by reducing both the lights in the same proportion, the _difference_ between them may become more perceptible. [sidenote: bands seen best by twilight. .] now the dirt-bands and the spaces between them resemble, in some measure, the two lights above mentioned. by the full glare of noon both are so strongly illuminated that the difference which the eye perceives is very small; as the evening advances the light of both is lowered in the same proportion, but the differential effect upon the eye is thereby augmented, and the bands are consequently more clearly seen. ( .) on friday, the th of july, we commenced our measurements. through the kindness of sir roderick murchison, i found myself in the possession of an excellent five-inch theodolite, an instrument with the use of which both my friend hirst and myself were perfectly familiar. we worked in concert for a few days to familiarize our assistant with the mode of proceeding, but afterwards it was my custom to simply determine the position where a measurement was to be made, and to leave the execution of it entirely to mr. hirst and our guide. on the th of july i made a long excursion up the glacier, examining the moraines, the crevasses, the structure, the moulins, and the disintegration of the surface. i was accompanied by a boy named edouard balmat,[a] and found him so good an iceman that i was induced to take him with me on the following day also. [sidenote: the cleft station. .] looking upwards from the montanvert to the left of the aiguille de charmoz, a singular gap is observed in the rocky mountain wall, in the centre of which stands a detached column of granite. both cleft and pillar are shown in the frontispiece, to the right. the eminence to the left of this gap is signalised by professor forbes as one of the best stations from which to view the mer de glace, and this point, which i shall refer to hereafter as the _cleft station_, it was now my desire to attain. from the montanvert side a steep gully leads to the cleft; up this couloir we proposed to try the ascent. at a considerable height above the mer de glace, and closely hugging the base of the aiguille de charmoz, is the small glacier de tendue, shown in the frontispiece, and from which a steep slope stretches down to the mer de glace. this tendue is the most _talkative_ glacier i have ever known; the clatter of the small stones which fall from it is incessant. huge masses of granite also frequently fall upon the glacier from the cliffs above it, and, being slowly borne downwards by the moving ice, are at length seen toppling above the terminal face of the glacier. the ice which supports them being gradually melted, they are at length undermined, and sent bounding down the slope with peal and rattle, according as the masses among which they move are large or small. the space beneath the glacier is cumbered with blocks thus sent down; some of them of enormous size. [sidenote: rough ascent. .] the danger arising from this intermittent cannonade, though in reality small, has caused the guides to swerve from the path which formerly led across the slope to the promontory of trélaporte. i say "small," because, even should a rock choose the precise moment at which a traveller is passing to leap down, the boulders at hand are so large and so capable of bearing a shock that the least presence of mind would be sufficient to place him in safety. but presence of mind is not to be calculated on under such circumstances, and hence the guides were right to abandon the path. reaching the mouth of our gully after a rough ascent, we took to the snow, instead of climbing the adjacent rocks. it was moist and soft, in fact in a condition altogether favourable for the "regelation" of its granules. as the foot pressed upon it the particles became cemented together. a portion of the pressure was transmitted laterally, which produced attachments beyond the boundary of the foot; thus as the latter sank, it pressed upon a surface which became continually wider and more rigid, and at length sufficiently strong to bear the entire weight of the body; the pressed snow formed in fact a virtual _camel's foot_, which soon placed a limit to the sinking. it is this same principle of regelation which enables men to cross snow bridges in safety. by gentle cautious pressure the loose granules of the substance are cemented into a continuous mass, all sudden shocks which might cause the frozen surfaces to snap asunder being avoided. in this way an arch of snow fifteen or twenty inches in thickness may be rendered so firm that a man will cross it, although it may span a chasm one hundred feet in depth. as we ascended, the incline became very steep, and once or twice we diverged from the snow to the adjacent rocks; these were disintegrated, and the slightest disturbance was sufficient to bring them down; some fell, and from one of them i found it a little difficult to escape; for it grazed my leg, inflicting a slight wound as it passed. just before reaching the cleft at which we aimed, the snow for a short distance was exceedingly steep, but we surmounted it; and i sat for a time beside the granite pillar, pleased to find that i could permit my legs to dangle over a precipice without prejudice to my head. [sidenote: chamois on the mountains. .] while we remained here a chamois made its appearance upon the rocks above us. deeming itself too near, it climbed higher, and then turned round to watch us. it was soon joined by a second, and the two formed a very pretty picture: their attitudes frequently changed, but they were always graceful; with head erect and horns curved back, a light limb thrown forward upon a ledge of rock, looking towards us with wild and earnest gaze, each seemed a type of freedom and agility. turning now to the left, we attacked the granite tower, from which we purposed to scan the glacier, and were soon upon its top. my companion was greatly pleased--he was "très-content" to have reached the place--he felt assured that many old guides would have retreated from that ugly gully, with its shifting shingle and débris, and his elation reached its climax in the declaration that, if i resolved to ascend mont blanc without a guide, he was willing to accompany me. [sidenote: scene from the station. .] from the position which we had attained, the prospect was exceedingly fine, both of the glaciers and of the mountains. beside us was the aiguille de charmoz, piercing with its spikes of granite the clear air. to my mind it is one of the finest of the aiguilles, noble in mass, with its summits singularly cleft and splintered. in some atmospheric colourings it has the exact appearance of a mountain of cast copper, and the manner in which some of its highest pinnacles are bent, suggesting the idea of ductility, gives strength to the illusion that the mass is metallic. at the opposite side of the glacier was the aiguille verte, with a cloud poised upon its point: it has long been the ambition of climbers to scale this peak, and on this day it was attempted by a young french count with a long retinue of guides. he had not fair play, for before we quitted our position we heard the rumble of thunder upon the mountain, which indicated the presence of a foe more terrible than the avalanches themselves. higher to the right, and also at the opposite side of the glacier, rose the aiguille du moine; and beyond was the basin of the talèfre, the ice cascade issuing from which appeared, from our position, like the foam of a waterfall. then came the aiguille de léchaud, the petite jorasse, the grande jorasse, and the mont tacul; all of which form a cradle for the glacier de léchaud. mont mallet, the périades, and the aiguille noire, came next, and then the singular obelisk of the aiguille du géant, from which a serrated edge of cliff descends to the summit of the "col." [sidenote: sÉracs of the col du gÉant. .] over the slopes of the col du géant was spread a coverlet of shining snow, at some places apparently as smooth as polished marble, at others broken so as to form precipices, on the pale blue faces of which the horizontal lines of bedding were beautifully drawn. as the eye approaches the line which stretches from the rognon to the aiguille noire, the repose of the _névé_ becomes more and more disturbed. vast chasms are formed, which however are still merely indicative of the trouble in advance. if the glacier were lifted off we should probably see that the line just referred to would lie along the summit of a steep gorge; over this summit the glacier is pushed, and has its back periodically broken, thus forming vast transverse ridges which follow each other in succession down the slope. at the summit these ridges are often cleft by fissures transverse to them, thus forming detached towers of ice of the most picturesque and imposing character.[b] these towers often fall; and while some are caught upon the platforms of the cascade, others struggle with the slow energy of a behemoth through the débris which opposes them, reach the edges of the precipices which rise in succession along the fall, leap over, and, amid ice-smoke and thunder-peals, fight their way downwards. [sidenote: glacier motion. .] a great number of secondary glaciers were in sight hanging on the steep slopes of the mountains, and from them streams sped downwards, falling over the rocks, and filling the valley with a low rich music. in front of me, for example, was the glacier du moine, and i could not help feeling as i looked at it, that the arguments drawn from the deportment of such glaciers against the "sliding theory," and which are still repeated in works upon the alps, militate just as strongly against the "viscous theory." "how," demands the antagonist of the sliding theory, "can a secondary glacier exist upon so steep a slope? why does it not slide down as an avalanche?" "but how," the person addressed may retort, "can a mass which you assume to be viscous exist under similar conditions? if it be viscous, what prevents it from rolling down?" the sliding theory assumes the lubrication of the bed of the glacier, but on this cold height the quantity melted is too small to lubricate the bed, and hence the slow motion of these glaciers. thus a sliding-theory man might reason, and, if the external deportment of secondary glaciers were to decide the question, de saussure might perhaps have the best of the argument. and with regard to the current idea, originated by m. de charpentier, and adopted by professor forbes, that if a glacier slides it must slide as an avalanche, it may be simply retorted that, in part, _it does so_; but if it be asserted that an _accelerated motion_ is the necessary motion of an avalanche, the statement needs qualification. an avalanche on passing through a rough couloir soon attains a uniform velocity--its motion being accelerated only up to the point when the sum of the resistances acting upon it is equal to the force drawing it downwards. these resistances are furnished by the numberless asperities which the mass encounters, and which incessantly check its descent, and render an accumulation of motion impossible. the motion of a man walking down stairs may be on the whole uniform, but it is really made up of an aggregate of small motions, each of which is accelerated; and it is easy to conceive how a glacier moving over an uneven bed, when released from one opposing obstacle will be checked by another, and its motion thus rendered sensibly uniform. [sidenote: moraines. .] [sidenote: tributaries of the mer de glace. .] [illustration: fig. . tributaries of the mer de glace.] from the aiguille du géant and les périades a glacier descended, which was separated by the promontory of la noire from the glacier proceeding from the col du géant. a small moraine was formed between them, which is marked _a_ upon the diagram, fig. . the great mass of the glacier descending from the col du géant came next, and this was bounded on the side nearest to trélaporte by a small moraine _b_, the origin of which i could not see, its upper portion being shut out by a mountain promontory. between the moraine _b_ and the actual side of the valley was another little glacier, derived from some of the lateral tributaries. it was, however, between the moraines _a_ and _b_ that the great mass of the glacier du géant really lay. at the promontory of the tacul the lateral moraines of the glacier des périades and of the glacier de léchaud united to form the medial moraine _c_ of the mer de glace. carrying the eye across the léchaud, we had the moraine _d_ formed by the union of the lateral moraines of the léchaud and talèfre; further to the left was the moraine _e_, which came from the jardin, and beyond it was the second lateral moraine of the talèfre. the mer de glace is formed by the confluence of the whole of the glaciers here named; being forced at trélaporte through a passage, the width of which appears considerably less than that of the single tributary, the glacier du géant. in the ice near trélaporte the blue veins of the glacier are beautifully shown; but they vary in distinctness according to the manner in which they are looked at. when regarded obliquely their colour is not so pronounced as when the vision plunges deeply into them. the weathered ice of the surface near trélaporte could be cloven with great facility; i could with ease obtain plates of it a quarter of an inch thick, and possessing two square feet of surface. on the th of july i followed the veins several times from side to side across the géant portion of the mer de glace; starting from one side, and walking along the veins, my route was directed obliquely downwards towards the axis of the tributary. at the axis i was forced to turn, in order to keep along the veins, and now ascended along a line which formed nearly the same angle with the axis at the other side. thus the veins led me as it were along the two sides of a triangle, the vertex of which was near the centre of the glacier. the vertex was, however, in reality rounded off, and the figure rather resembled a hyperbola, which tended to coincidence with its asymptotes. this observation corroborates those of professor forbes with regard to the position of the veins, and, like him, i found that at the centre the veining, whose normal direction would be transverse to the glacier, was contorted and confused. [sidenote: wasting of ice. .] near the side of the glacier du géant, above the promontory of trélaporte, the ice is rent in a remarkable manner. looking upwards from the lower portions of the glacier, a series of vertical walls, rising apparently one above the other, face the observer. i clambered up among these singular terraces, and now recognise, both from my sketch and memory, that their peculiar forms are due to the same action as that which has given their shape to the "billows" of the mer de glace. a series of profound crevasses is first formed. the glacier du géant deviates ° from the meridian line, and hence the sun shines nearly down it during the middle portion of each day. the backs of the ridges between the crevasses are thus rounded off, one boundary of each fissure is destroyed, or at least becomes a mere steep declivity, while the other boundary being shaded from the sun preserves its verticality; and thus a very curious series of precipices is formed. through all this dislocation, the little moraine on which i have placed the letter _b_ in the sketch maintains its right to existence, and under it the laminated structure of this portion of the glacier appears to reach its most perfect development. the moraine was generally a mere dirt track, but one or two immense blocks of granite were perched upon it. i examined the ice underneath one of these, being desirous of seeing whether the pressure resulting from its enormous weight would produce a veining, but the result was not satisfactory. veins were certainly to be seen in directions different from the normal ones, but whether they were due to the bending of the latter, or were directly owing to the pressure of the block, i could not say. the sides of a stream which had cut a deep gorge in the clean ice of the glacier du géant afforded a fine opportunity of observing the structure. it was very remarkable--highly significant indeed in a theoretic point of view. two long and remarkably deep blue veins traversed the bottom of the stream, and bending upwards at a place where the rivulet curved, drew themselves like a pair of parallel lines upon the clean white ice. but the general structure was of a totally different character; it did not consist of long bars, but approximated to the lenticular form, and was, moreover, of a washy paleness, which scarcely exceeded in depth of colouring the whitish ice around. [sidenote: grooves on the surface. .] to the investigator of the structure nothing can be finer than the appearance of the glacier from one of the ice terraces cut in the glacier du géant by its passage round trélaporte. as far as the vision extended the dirt upon the surface of the ice was arranged in striæ. these striæ were not always straight lines, nor were they unbroken curves. within slight limits the various parts into which a glacier is cut up by its crevasses enjoy a kind of independent motion. the grooves, for example, on two ridges which have been separated by a small fissure, may one day have their striæ perfect continuations of each other, but in a short time this identity of direction may be destroyed by a difference of motion between the ridges. thus it is that the grooves upon the surface above trélaporte are bent hither and thither, a crack or seam always marking the point where their continuity is ruptured. this bending occurs, however, within limits sufficiently small to enable the striæ to preserve the same general direction. [sidenote: seams of white ice. .] my attention had often been attracted this day by projecting masses of what at first appeared to be pure white snow, rising in seams above the general surface of the glacier. on examination, however, i found them to be compact ice, filled with innumerable air-cells, and so resistant as to maintain itself in some places at a height of four feet above the general level. when amongst the ridges they appeared discontinuous and confused, being scattered apparently at random over the glacier; but when viewed from a sufficient distance, the detached parts showed themselves to belong to a system of white seams which swept quite across the glacier du géant, in a direction concentric with the structure. unable to account for these singular seams, i climbed up among the tributary glaciers on the rognon side of the glacier du géant, and remained there until the sun sank behind the neighbouring peaks, and the fading light warned me that it was time to return. footnotes: [a] "le petit balmat" my host always called him. [b] to such towers the name _séracs_ is applied. in the chalets of savoy, after the richer curd has been precipitated by rennet, a stronger acid is used to throw down what remains; an inferior kind of cheese called _sérac_ is thus formed, the shape and colour of which have suggested the application of the term to the cubical masses of ice. ( .) early on the following day i was again upon the ice. i first confined myself to the right side of the glacier du géant, and found that the veins of white ice which i had noticed on the previous day were exclusively confined to this glacier, or to the space between the moraines _a_ and _b_ (fig. ), bending up so that the moraine _a_ between the glacier du géant and the glacier des périades was tangent to them. at a good distance up the glacier i encountered a considerable stream rushing across it almost from side to side. i followed the rivulet, examining the sections which it exposed. at a certain point three other streams united, and formed at their place of confluence a small green lake. from this a rivulet rushed, which was joined by the stream whose track i had pursued, and at this place of junction a second green lake was formed, from which flowed a stream equal in volume to the sum of all the tributaries. it entered a crevasse, and took the bottom of the fissure for its bed. standing at the entrance of the chasm, a low muffled thunder resounding through the valley attracted my attention. i followed the crevasse, which deepened and narrowed, and, by the blue light of the ice, could see the stream gambolling along its bottom, and flashing as it jumped over the ledges which it encountered in its way. the fissure at length came to an end: placing a foot on each side of it, and withholding the stronger light from my eyes, i looked down between its shining walls, and saw the stream plunge into a shaft which carried it to the bottom of the glacier. slowly, and in zigzag fashion, as the crevasses demanded, i continued to ascend, sometimes climbing vast humps of ice from which good views of the surrounding glacier were obtained; sometimes hidden in the hollows between the humps, in which also green glacier tarns were often formed, very lonely and very beautiful. [sidenote: a lake set free. .] while standing beside one of these, and watching the moving clouds which it faithfully mirrored, i heard the sound of what appeared to be a descending avalanche, but the time of its continuance surprised me. looking through my opera-glass in the direction of the sound, i saw issuing from the end of a secondary glacier on the tacul side a torrent of what appeared to me to be stones and mud. i could see the stones and finer débris jumping down the declivities, and shaping themselves into singular cascades. the noise continued for a quarter of an hour, after which the torrent rapidly diminished, until, at length, the ordinary little stream due to the melting of the glacier alone remained. a subglacial lake had burst its boundary, and carried along with it in its rush downwards the débris which it met with in its course. [sidenote: impressive scene. .] in some places i found the crevasses difficult, the ice being split in a very singular manner. vast plates of it not more than a foot in thickness were sometimes detached from the sides of the crevasses, and stood alone. i was now approaching the base of the _séracs_, and the glacier around me still retained a portion of the turbulence of the cascade. i halted at times amid the ruin and confusion, and examined with my glass the cascade itself. it was a wild and wonderful scene, suggesting throes of spasmodic energy, though, in reality, all its dislocation had been _slowly_ and _gradually_ produced. true, the stratified blocks which here and there cumbered the terraces suggested _débacles_, but these were local and partial, and did not affect the general question. there is scarcely a case of geological disturbance which could not be matched with its analogue upon the glaciers,--contortions, faults, fissures, joints, and dislocations,--but in the case of the ice we can prove the effects to be due to slowly-acting causes; how reasonable is it then to ascribe to the operation of similar causes, which have had an incomparably longer time to work, many geological effects which at first sight might suggest sudden convulsion! wandering slowly upwards, successive points of attraction drawing me almost unconsciously on, i found myself as the day was declining deep in the entanglements of the ice. a shower commenced, and a splendid rainbow threw an oblique arch across the glacier. i was quite alone; the scene was exceedingly impressive, and the possibility of difficulties on which i had not calculated intervening between me and the lower glacier, gave a tinge of anxiety to my position. i turned towards home; crossed some bosses of ice and rounded others; i followed the tracks of streams which were very irregular on this portion of the glacier, bending hither and thither, rushing through deep-cut channels, falling in cascades and expanding here and there to deep green lakes; they often plunged into the depths of the ice, flowed under it with hollow gurgle, and reappeared at some distant point. i threaded my way cautiously amid systems of crevasses, scattering with my axe, to secure a footing, the rotten ice of the sharper crests, which fell with a ringing sound into the chasms at either side. strange subglacial noises were sometimes heard, as if caverns existed underneath, into which blocks of ice fell at intervals, transmitting the shock of their fall with a dull boom to the surface of the glacier. by the steady surmounting of difficulties one after another, i at length placed them all behind me, and afterwards hastened swiftly along the glacier to my mountain home. [sidenote: chamouni rules. .] on the th incessant rain confined us to indoor work; on the st we determined the velocity with which the glacier is forced through the entrance of the trunk valley at trélaporte, and also the motion of the grand moulin. we also determined both the velocity and the width of the glacier du géant. the st of august was spent by me at the cascade of the talèfre, examining the structure, crumpling, and scaling off of the ice. finding that the rules at chamouni put an unpleasant limit to my demands on my guide simond, i visited the guide chef on the nd of august, and explained to him the object of my expedition, pointing out the inconvenience which a rigid application of the rules made for tourists would impose upon me. he had then the good sense to acknowledge the reasonableness of my remarks, and to grant me the liberty i requested. the rd of august was employed in determining the velocity and width of the glacier de léchaud, and in observations on the lamination of the glacier. [sidenote: the jardin. .] the jardin. ( .) [sidenote: a reservoir of ice. .] on the th of august, with a view of commencing a series of observations on the inclinations of the mer de glace and its tributaries, we had our theodolite transported to the _jardin_, which, as is well known, lies like an island in the middle of the glacier du talèfre. we reached the place by the usual route, and found some tourists reposing on the soft green sward which covers the lower portion, and to which, and the flowers which spangle it, the place owes its name. towards the summit of the jardin, a rock jutted forward, apparently the very apex of the place, or at least hiding by its prominence everything that might exist behind it; leaving our guide with the instrument, we aimed at this, and soon left the grass and flowers behind us. stepping amid broken fragments of rock, along slopes of granite, with fat felspar crystals which gave the boots a hold, and crossing at intervals patches of snow, which continued still to challenge the summer heat, i at length found myself upon the peak referred to; and, although it was not the highest, the unimpeded view which it commanded induced me to get astride it. the jardin was completely encircled by the ice of the glacier, and this was held in a mountain basin, which was bounded all round by a grand and cliffy rim. the outline of the dark brown crags--a deeply serrated and irregular line--was forcibly drawn against the blue heaven, and still more strongly against some white and fleecy clouds which lay here and there behind it; while detached spears and pillars of rock, sculptured by frost and lightning, stood like a kind of defaced statuary along the ridge. all round the basin the snow reared itself like a buttress against the precipitous cliffs, being streaked and fluted by the descent of blocks from the summits. this mighty tub is the collector of one of the tributaries of the mer de glace. according to professor forbes, its greatest diameter is yards, and out of it the half-formed ice is squeezed through a precipitous gorge about yards wide, forming there the ice cascade of the talèfre. bounded on one side by the grande jorasse, and on the other by mont mallet, the principal tributary of the glacier de léchaud lay white and pure upon the mountain slope. round further to the right we had the vast plateau whence the glacier du géant is fed, fenced on the left by the aiguille du géant and the aiguille noire, and on the right by the monts maudits and mont blanc. the scene was a truly majestic one. the mighty aiguilles piercing the sea of air, the soft white clouds floating here and there behind them; the shining snow with its striped faults and precipices; the deep blue firmament overhead; the peals of avalanches and the sound of water;--all conspired to render the scene glorious, and our enjoyment of it deep. a voice from above hailed me as i moved from my perch; it was my friend, who had found a lodgment upon the edge of a rock which was quite detached from the jardin, being the first to lift its head in opposition to the descending _névé_. making a détour round a steep concave slope of the glacier, i reached the flat summit of the rock. the end of a ridge of ice abutted against it, which was split and bent by the pressure so as to form a kind of arch. i cut steps in the ice, and ascended until i got beneath the azure roof. innumerable little rills of pellucid water descended from it. some came straight down, clear for a time, and apparently motionless, rapidly tapering at first, and more slowly afterwards, until, at the point of maximum contraction, they resolved themselves into strings of liquid pearls which pattered against the ice floor underneath. others again, owing to the directions of the little streamlets of which they were constituted, formed spiral figures of great beauty: one liquid vein wound itself round another, forming a spiral protuberance, and owing to the centrifugal motion thus imparted, the vein, at its place of rupture, scattered itself laterally in little liquid spherules.[a] even at this great elevation the structure of the ice was fairly developed, not with the sharpness to be observed lower down, but still perfectly decided. blue bands crossed the ridge of ice to which i have referred, at right angles to the direction of the pressure. [sidenote: moraines of the talÈfre. .] i descended, and found my friend beneath an overhanging rock. immediately afterwards a peal like that of thunder shook the air, and right in front of us an avalanche darted down the brown cliffs, then along a steep slope of snow which reared itself against the mountain wall, carrying with it the débris of the rocks over which it passed, until it finally lay a mass of sullied rubbish at the base of the incline: the whole surface of the talèfre is thus soiled. another peal was heard immediately afterwards, but the avalanche which caused it was hidden from us by a rocky promontory. from this same promontory the greater portion of the medial moraine which descends the cascade of the talèfre is derived, forming at first a gracefully winding curve, and afterwards stretching straight to the summit of the fall. in the chasms of the cascade its boulders are engulfed, but the lost moraine is restored below the fall, as if disgorged by the ice which had swallowed it. from the extremity of the jardin itself a mere driblet of a moraine proceeds, running parallel to the former, and like it disappearing at the summit of the cascade. [sidenote: among the crevasses. .] we afterwards descended towards the cascade, but long before this is attained the most experienced iceman would find himself in difficulty. transverse crevasses are formed, which follow each other so speedily as to leave between them mere narrow ridges of ice, along which we moved cautiously, jumping the adjacent fissures, or getting round them, as the case demanded. as we approached the jaws of the gorge, the ridges dwindled to mere plates and wedges, which being bent and broken by the lateral pressure, added to the confusion, and warned us not to advance. the position was in some measure an exciting one. our guide had never been here before; we were far from the beaten track, and the riven glacier wore an aspect of treacherous hostility. as at the base of the _séracs_, a subterranean noise sometimes announced the falling of ice-blocks into hollows underneath, the existence of which the resonant concussion of the fallen mass alone revealed. there was thus a dash of awe mingled with our thoughts; a stirring up of the feelings which troubled the coolness of the intellect. we finally swerved to the right, and by a process the reverse of straightforward reached the couvercle. nightfall found us at the threshold of our hotel. footnotes: [a] the recent hydraulic researches of professor magnus furnish some beautiful illustrations of this action. ( .) [sidenote: round hailstones. .] [sidenote: a dangerous leap. .] on the th we were engaged for some time in an important measurement at the tacul. we afterwards ascended towards the _séracs_, and determined the inclinations of the glacier du géant downwards. dense cloud-masses gathered round the points of the aiguilles, and the thunder bellowed at intervals from the summit of mont blanc. as we descended the mer de glace the valley in front of us was filled with a cloud of pitchy darkness. suddenly from side to side this field of gloom was riven by a bar of lightning of intolerable splendour; it was followed by a peal of commensurate grandeur, the echoes of which leaped from cliff to cliff long after the first sound had died away. the discharge seemed to unlock the clouds above us, for they showered their liquid spheres down upon us with a momentum like that of swan-shot: all the way home we were battered by this pellet-like rain. on the th the rain continued with scarcely any pause; on the th i was engaged all day upon the glacier du géant; on the morning of the th heavy hail had fallen there, the stones being perfect spheres; the rounded rain-drops had solidified during their descent without sensible change of form. when this hail was squeezed together, it exactly resembled a mass of oolitic limestone which i had picked up in near blankenburg in the hartz. mr. hirst and myself were engaged together this day taking the inclinations: he struck his theodolite at the angle, and went home accompanied by simond, and the evening being extremely serene, i pursued my way down the centre of the glacier towards the echelets. the crevasses as i advanced became more deep and frequent, the ridges of ice between them becoming gradually narrower. they were very fine, their downward faces being clear cut, perfectly vertical, and in many cases beautifully veined. vast plates of ice moreover often stood out midway between the walls of the chasms, as if cloven from the glacier and afterwards set on edge. the place was certainly one calculated to test the skill and nerve of an iceman; and as the day drooped, and the shadow in the valley deepened, a feeling approaching to awe took possession of me. my route was an exaggerated zigzag; right and left amid the chasms wherever a hope of progress opened; and here i made the experience which i have often repeated since, and laid to heart as regards intellectual work also, that enormous difficulties may be overcome when they are attacked in earnest. sometimes i found myself so hedged in by fissures that escape seemed absolutely impossible; but close and resolute examination so often revealed a means of exit, that i felt in all its force the brave verity of the remark of mirabeau, that the word "impossible" is a mere blockhead of a word. it finally became necessary to reach the shore, but i found this a work of extreme difficulty. at length, however, it became pretty evident that, if i could cross a certain crevasse, my retreat would be secured. the width of the fissure seemed to be fairly within jumping distance, and if i could have calculated on a safe purchase for my foot i should have thought little of the spring; but the ice on the edge from which i was to leap was loose and insecure, and hence a kind of nervous thrill shot through me as i made the bound. the opposite side was fairly reached, but an involuntary tremor shook me all over after i felt myself secure. i reached the edge of the glacier without further serious difficulty, and soon after found myself steeped in the creature comforts of our hotel. on monday, august th, i had the great pleasure of being joined by my friend huxley; and though the weather was very unpromising, we started together up the glacier, he being desirous to learn something of its general features, and, if possible, to reach the jardin. we reached the couvercle, and squeezed ourselves through the egralets; but here the rain whizzed past us, and dense fog settled upon the cascade of the talèfre, obscuring all its parts. we met mr. galton, the african traveller, returning from an attempt upon the jardin; and learning that his guides had lost their way in the fog, we deemed it prudent to return. the foregoing brief notes will have informed the reader that at the period of mr. huxley's arrival i was not without due training upon the ice; i may also remark, that on the th of july i reached the summit of the col du géant, accompanied by the boy balmat, and returned to the montanvert on the same day. my health was perfect, and incessant practice had taught me the art of dealing with the difficulties of the ice. from the time of my arrival at the montanvert the thought of ascending mont blanc, and thus expanding my knowledge of the glaciers, had often occurred to me, and i think i was justified in feeling that the discipline which both my friend hirst and myself had undergone ought to enable us to accomplish the journey in a much more modest way than ordinary. i thought a single guide sufficient for this purpose, and i was strengthened in this opinion by the fact that simond, who was a man of the strictest prudence, and who at first declared four guides to be necessary, had lowered his demand first to two, and was now evidently willing to try the ascent with us alone. [sidenote: preparations for a climb. .] on mentioning the thing to mr. huxley he at once resolved to accompany us. on the th of august the weather was exceedingly fine, though the snow which had fallen during the previous days lay thick upon the glacier. at noon we were all together at the tacul, and the subject of attempting mont blanc was mooted and discussed. my opinion was that it would be better to wait until the fresh snow which loaded the mountain had disappeared; but the weather was so exquisite that my friends thought it best to take advantage of it. we accordingly entered into an agreement with our guide, and immediately descended to make preparations for commencing the expedition on the following morning. first ascent of mont blanc, . ( .) [sidenote: scene from the charmoz. .] on wednesday, the th of august, we rose early, after a very brief rest on my part. simond had proposed to go down to chamouni, and commence the ascent in the usual way, but we preferred crossing the mountains from the montanvert, straight to the glacier des bossons. at eight o'clock we started, accompanied by two porters who were to carry our provisions to the grands mulets. slowly and silently we climbed the hill-side towards charmoz. we soon passed the limits of grass and rhododendrons, and reached the slabs of gneiss which overspread the summit of the ridge, lying one upon the other like coin upon the table of a money-changer. from the highest-point i turned to have a last look at the mer de glace; and through a pair of very dark spectacles i could see with perfect distinctness the looped dirt-bands of the glacier, which to the naked eye are scarcely discernible except by twilight. flanking our track to the left rose a series of mighty aiguilles--the aiguille de charmoz, with its bent and rifted pinnacles; the aiguille du grépon, the aiguille de blaitière, the aiguille du midi, all piercing the heavens with their sharp pyramidal summits. far in front of us rose the grand snow-cone of the dôme du goûter, while, through a forest of dark pines which gathered like a cloud at the foot of the mountain, gleamed the white minarets of the glacier des bossons. below us lay the valley of chamouni, beyond which were the brévent and the chain of the aiguilles rouges; behind us was the granite obelisk of the aiguille du dru, while close at hand science found a corporeal form in a pyramid of stones used as a trigonometrical station by professor forbes. sound is known to travel better up hill than down, because the pulses transmitted from a denser medium to a rarer, suffer less loss of intensity than when the transmission is in the opposite direction; and now the mellow voice of the arve came swinging upwards from the heavier air of the valley to the lighter air of the hills in rich deep cadences. [sidenote: passage to the pierre À l'echelle. .] the way for a time was excessively rough, our route being overspread with the fragments of peaks which had once reared themselves to our left, but which frost and lightning had shaken to pieces, and poured in granite avalanches down the mountain. we were sometimes among huge angular boulders, and sometimes amid lighter shingle, which gave way at every step, thus forcing us to shift our footing incessantly. escaping from these, we crossed the succession of secondary glaciers which lie at the feet of the aiguilles, and having secured firewood found ourselves after some hours of hard work at the pierre à l'echelle. here we were furnished with leggings of coarse woollen cloth to keep out the snow; they were tied under the knees and quite tightly again over the insteps, so that the legs were effectually protected. we had some refreshment, possessed ourselves of the ladder, and entered upon the glacier. [sidenote: ladder left behind. .] [sidenote: difficult crevasses. .] the ice was excessively fissured: we crossed crevasses and crept round slippery ridges, cutting steps in the ice wherever climbing was necessary. this rendered our progress very slow. once, with the intention of lending a helping hand, i stepped forward upon a block of granite which happened to be poised like a rocking stone upon the ice, though i did not know it; it treacherously turned under me; i fell, but my hands were in instant requisition, and i escaped with a bruise, from which, however, the blood oozed angrily. we found the ladder necessary in crossing some of the chasms, the iron spikes at its end being firmly driven into the ice at one side, while the other end rested on the opposite side of the fissure. the middle portion of the glacier was not difficult. mounds of ice rose beside us right and left, which were sometimes split into high towers and gaunt-looking pyramids, while the space between was unbroken. twenty minutes' walking brought us again to a fissured portion of the glacier, and here our porter left the ladder on the ice behind him. for some time i was not aware of this, but we were soon fronted by a chasm to pass which we were in consequence compelled to make a long and dangerous circuit amid crests of crumbling ice. this accomplished, we hoped that no repetition of the process would occur, but we speedily came to a second fissure, where it was necessary to step from a projecting end of ice to a mass of soft snow which overhung the opposite side. simond could reach this snow with his long-handled axe; he beat it down to give it rigidity, but it was exceedingly tender, and as he worked at it he continued to express his fears that it would not bear us. i was the lightest of the party, and therefore tested the passage, first; being partially lifted by simond on the end of his axe, i crossed the fissure, obtained some anchorage at the other side, and helped the others over. we afterwards ascended until another chasm, deeper and wider than any we had hitherto encountered, arrested us. we walked alongside of it in search of a snow bridge, which we at length found, but the keystone of the arch had unfortunately given way, leaving projecting eaves of snow at both sides, between which we could look into the gulf, till the gloom of its deeper portions cut the vision short. both sides of the crevasse were sounded, but no sure footing was obtained; the snow was beaten and carefully trodden down as near to the edge as possible, but it finally broke away from the foot and fell into the chasm. one of our porters was short-legged and a bad iceman; the other was a daring fellow, and he now threw the knapsack from his shoulders, came to the edge of the crevasse, looked into it, but drew back again. after a pause he repeated the act, testing the snow with his feet and staff. i looked at the man as he stood beside the chasm manifestly undecided as to whether he should take the step upon which his life would hang, and thought it advisable to put a stop to such perilous play. i accordingly interposed, the man withdrew from the crevasse, and he and simond descended to fetch the ladder. while they were away huxley sat down upon the ice, with an expression of fatigue stamped upon his countenance: the spirit and the muscles were evidently at war, and the resolute will mixed itself strangely with the sense of peril and feeling of exhaustion. he had been only two days with us, and, though his strength is great, he had had no opportunity of hardening himself by previous exercise upon the ice for the task which he had undertaken. the ladder now arrived, and we crossed the crevasse. i was intentionally the last of the party, huxley being immediately in front of me. the determination of the man disguised his real condition from everybody but myself, but i saw that the exhausting journey over the boulders and débris had been too much for his london limbs. converting my waterproof haversack into a cushion, i made him sit down upon it at intervals, and by thus breaking the steep ascent into short stages we reached the cabin of the grands mulets together. here i spread a rug on the boards, and placing my bag for a pillow, he lay down, and after an hour's profound sleep he rose refreshed and well; but still he thought it wise not to attempt the ascent farther. our porters left us: a bâton was stretched across the room over the stove, and our wet socks and leggings were thrown across it to dry; our boots were placed around the fire, and we set about preparing our evening meal. a pan was placed upon the fire, and filled with snow, which in due time melted and boiled; i ground some chocolate and placed it in the pan, and afterwards ladled the beverage into the vessels we possessed, which consisted of two earthen dishes and the metal cases of our brandy flasks. after supper simond went out to inspect the glacier, and was observed by huxley, as twilight fell, in a state of deep contemplation beside a crevasse. [sidenote: star twinkling. .] gradually the stars appeared, but as yet no moon. before lying down we went out to look at the firmament, and noticed, what i suppose has been observed to some extent by everybody, that the stars near the horizon twinkled busily, while those near the zenith shone with a steady light. one large star in particular excited our admiration; it flashed intensely, and changed colour incessantly, sometimes blushing like a ruby, and again gleaming like an emerald. a determinate colour would sometimes remain constant for a sensible time, but usually the flashes followed each other in very quick succession. three planks were now placed across the room near the stove, and upon these, with their rugs folded round them, huxley and hirst stretched themselves, while i nestled on the boards at the most distant end of the room. we rose at eleven o'clock, renewed the fire and warmed ourselves, after which we lay down again. i at length observed a patch of pale light upon the wooden wall of the cabin, which had entered through a hole in the end of the edifice, and rising found that it was past one o'clock. the cloudless moon was shining over the wastes of snow, and the scene outside was at once wild, grand, and beautiful. [sidenote: start from the grands mulets. .] breakfast was soon prepared, though not without difficulty; we had no candles, they had been forgotten; but i fortunately possessed a box of wax matches, of which huxley took charge, patiently igniting them in succession, and thus giving us a tolerably continuous light. we had some tea, which had been made at the montanvert, and carried to the grands mulets in a bottle. my memory of that tea is not pleasant; it had been left a whole night in contact with its leaves, and smacked strongly of tannin. the snow-water, moreover, with which we diluted it was not pure, but left a black residuum at the bottom of the dishes in which the beverage was served. the few provisions deemed necessary being placed in simond's knapsack, at twenty minutes past two o'clock we scrambled down the rocks, leaving huxley behind us. the snow was hardened by the night's frost, and we were cheered by the hope of being able to accomplish the ascent with comparatively little labour. we were environed by an atmosphere of perfect purity; the larger stars hung like gems above us, and the moon, about half full, shone with wondrous radiance in the dark firmament. one star in particular, which lay eastward from the moon, suddenly made its appearance above one of the aiguilles, and burned there with unspeakable splendour. we turned once towards the mulets, and saw huxley's form projected against the sky as he stood upon a pinnacle of rock; he gave us a last wave of the hand and descended, while we receded from him into the solitudes. the evening previous our guide had examined the glacier for some distance, his progress having been arrested by a crevasse. beside this we soon halted: it was spanned at one place by a bridge of snow, which was of too light a structure to permit of simond's testing it alone; we therefore paused while our guide uncoiled a rope and tied us all together. the moment was to me a peculiarly solemn one. our little party seemed so lonely and so small amid the silence and the vastness of the surrounding scene. we were about to try our strength under unknown conditions, and as the various possibilities of the enterprise crowded on the imagination, a sense of responsibility for a moment oppressed me. but as i looked aloft and saw the glory of the heavens, my heart lightened, and i remarked cheerily to hirst that nature seemed to smile upon our work. "yes," he replied, in a calm and earnest voice, "and, god willing, we shall accomplish it." [sidenote: a wrong turn. .] a pale light now overspread the eastern sky, which increased, as we ascended, to a daffodil tinge; this afterwards heightened to orange, deepening at one extremity into red, and fading at the other into a pure ethereal hue to which it would be difficult to assign a special name. higher up the sky was violet, and this changed by insensible degrees into the darkling blue of the zenith, which had to thank the light of moon and stars alone for its existence. we wound steadily for a time through valleys of ice, climbed white and slippery slopes, crossed a number of crevasses, and after some time found ourselves beside a chasm of great depth and width, which extended right and left as far as we could see. we turned to the left, and marched along its edge in search of a _pont_; but matters became gradually worse: other crevasses joined on to the first one, and the further we proceeded the more riven and dislocated the ice became. at length we reached a place where further advance was impossible. simond in his difficulty complained of the want of light, and wished us to wait for the advancing day; i, on the contrary, thought that we had light enough and ought to make use of it. here the thought occurred to me that simond, having been only once before to the top of the mountain, might not be quite clear about the route; the glacier, however, changes within certain limits from year to year, so that a general knowledge was all that could be expected, and we trusted to our own muscles to make good any mistake in the way of guidance. we now turned and retraced our steps along the edges of chasms where the ice was disintegrated and insecure, and succeeded at length in finding a bridge which bore us across the crevasse. this error caused us the loss of an hour, and after walking for this time we could cast a stone from the point we had attained to the place whence we had been compelled to return. [sidenote: sÉracs of the dÔme du goÛter. .] our way now lay along the face of a steep incline of snow, which was cut by the fissure we had just passed, in a direction parallel to our route. on the heights to our right, loose ice-crags seemed to totter, and we passed two tracks over which the frozen blocks had rushed some short time previously. we were glad to get out of the range of these terrible projectiles, and still more so to escape the vicinity of that ugly crevasse. to be killed in the open air would be a luxury, compared with having the life squeezed out of one in the horrible gloom of these chasms. the blush of the coming day became more and more intense; still the sun himself did not appear, being hidden from us by the peaks of the aiguille du midi, which were drawn clear and sharp against the brightening sky. right under this aiguille were heaps of snow smoothly rounded and constituting a portion of the sources whence the glacier du géant is fed; these, as the day advanced, bloomed with a rosy light. we reached the petit plateau, which we found covered with the remains of ice avalanches; above us upon the crest of the mountain rose three mighty bastions, divided from each other by deep vertical rents, with clean smooth walls, across which the lines of annual bedding were drawn like courses of masonry. from these, which incessantly renew themselves, and from the loose and broken ice-crags near them, the boulders amid which we now threaded our way had been discharged. when they fall their descent must be sublime. [sidenote: the lost guides. .] the snow had been gradually getting deeper, and the ascent more wearisome, but superadded to this at the petit plateau was the uncertainty of the footing between the blocks of ice. in many places the space was merely covered by a thin crust, which, when trod upon, instantly yielded, and we sank with a shock sometimes to the hips. our way next lay up a steep incline to the grand plateau, the depth and tenderness of the snow augmenting as we ascended. we had not yet seen the sun, but, as we attained the brow which forms the entrance to the grand plateau, he hung his disk upon a spike of rock to our left, and, surrounded by a glory of interference spectra of the most gorgeous colours, blazed down upon us. on the grand plateau we halted and had our frugal refreshment. at some distance to our left was the crevasse into which dr. hamel's three guides were precipitated by an avalanche in ; they are still entombed in the ice, and some future explorer may perhaps see them disgorged lower down, fresh and undecayed. they can hardly reach the surface until they pass the snow-line of the glacier, for above this line the quantity of snow that annually falls being in excess of the quantity melted, the tendency would be to make the ice-covering above them thicker. but it is also possible that the waste of the ice underneath may have brought the bodies to the bed of the glacier, where their very bones may have been ground to mud by an agency which the hardest rocks cannot withstand. [sidenote: the guide tired. .] [sidenote: a perilous slope. .] as the sun poured his light upon the plateau the little snow-facets sparkled brilliantly, sometimes with a pure white light, and at others with prismatic colours. contrasted with the white spaces above and around us were the dark mountains on the opposite side of the valley of chamouni, around which fantastic masses of cloud were beginning to build themselves. mont buet, with its cone of snow, looked small, and the brévent altogether mean; the limestone bastions of the fys, however, still presented a front of gloom and grandeur. we traversed the grand plateau, and at length reached the base of an extremely steep incline which stretched upwards towards the corridor. here, as if produced by a fault, consequent upon the sinking of the ice in front, rose a vertical precipice, from the coping of which vast stalactites of ice depended. previous to reaching this place i had noticed a haggard expression upon the countenance of our guide, which was now intensified by the prospect of the ascent before him. hitherto he had always been in front, which was certainly the most fatiguing position. i felt that i must now take the lead, so i spoke cheerily to the man and placed him behind me. marking a number of points upon the slope as resting places, i went swiftly from one to the other. the surface of the snow had been partially melted by the sun and then refrozen, thus forming a superficial crust, which bore the weight up to a certain point, and then suddenly gave way, permitting the leg to sink to above the knee. the shock consequent on this, and the subsequent effort necessary to extricate the leg, were extremely fatiguing. my motion was complained of as too quick, and my tracks as imperfect; i moderated the former, and, to render my footholes broad and sure, i stamped upon the frozen crust, and twisted my legs in the soft mass underneath,--a terribly exhausting process. i thus led the way to the base of the rochers rouges, up to which the fault already referred to had prolonged itself as a crevasse, which was roofed at one place by a most dangerous-looking snow-bridge. simond came to the front; i drew his attention to the state of the snow, and proposed climbing the rochers rouges; but, with a promptness unusual with him, he replied that this was impossible; the bridge was our only means of passing, and we must try it. we grasped our ropes, and dug our feet firmly into the snow to check the man's descent if the _pont_ gave way, but to our astonishment it bore him, and bore us safely after him. the slope which we had now to ascend had the snow swept from its surface, and was therefore firm ice. it was most dangerously steep, and, its termination being the fretted coping of the precipice to which i have referred, if we slid downwards we should shoot over this and be dashed to pieces upon the ice below.[a] simond, who had come to the front to cross the crevasse, was now engaged in cutting steps, which he made deep and large, so that they might serve us on our return. but the listless strokes of his axe proclaimed his exhaustion; so i took the implement out of his hands, and changed places with him. step after step was hewn, but the top of the corridor appeared ever to recede from us. hirst was behind unoccupied, and could thus turn his thoughts to the peril of our position: he _felt_ the angle on which we hung, and saw the edge of the precipice, to which less than a quarter of a minute's slide would carry us, and for the first time during the journey he grew giddy. a cigar which he lighted for the purpose tranquilized him. [sidenote: will and muscle. .] i hewed sixty steps upon this slope, and each step had cost a minute, by hirst's watch. the mur de la côte was still before us, and on this the guide-books informed us two or three hundred steps were sometimes found necessary. if sixty steps cost an hour, what would be the cost of two hundred? the question was disheartening in the extreme, for the time at which we had calculated on reaching the summit was already passed, while the chief difficulties remained unconquered. having hewn our way along the harder ice we reached snow. i again resorted to stamping to secure a footing, and while thus engaged became, for the first time, aware of the drain of force to which i was subjecting myself. the thought of being absolutely exhausted had never occurred to me, and from first to last i had taken no care to husband my strength. i always calculated that the _will_ would serve me even should the muscles fail, but i now found that mechanical laws rule man in the long run; that no effort of will, no power of spirit, can draw beyond a certain limit upon muscular force. the soul, it is true, can stir the body to action, but its function is to excite and apply force, and not to create it. while stamping forward through the frozen crust i was compelled to pause at short intervals; then would set out again apparently fresh, to find, however, in a few minutes that my strength was gone, and that i required to rest once more. in this way i gained the summit of the corridor, when hirst came to the front, and i felt some relief in stepping slowly after him, making use of the holes into which his feet had sunk. he thus led the way to the base of the mur de la côte, the thought of which had so long cast a gloom upon us; here we left our rope behind us, and while pausing i asked simond whether he did not feel a desire to go to the summit--"_bien sûr_," was his reply, "_mais!_" our guide's mind was so constituted that the "_mais_" seemed essential to its peace. i stretched my hand towards him, and said, "simond, we must do it." one thing alone i felt could defeat us: the usual time of the ascent had been more than doubled, the day was already far spent, and if the ascent would throw our subsequent descent into night it could not be contemplated. [sidenote: a doze on the calotte. .] we now faced the mur, which was by no means so bad as we had expected. driving the iron claws of our boots into the scars made by the axe, and the spikes of our bâtons into the slope above our feet, we ascended steadily until the summit was attained, and the top of the mountain rose clearly above us. we congratulated ourselves upon this; but simond, probably fearing that our joy might become too full, remarked, "_mais le sommet est encore bien loin!_" it was, alas! too true. the snow became soft again, and our weary limbs sank in it as before. our guide went on in front, audibly muttering his doubts as to our ability to reach the top, and at length he threw himself upon the snow, and exclaimed, "_il faut y renoncer!_" hirst now undertook the task of rekindling the guide's enthusiasm, after which simond rose, exclaiming, "_ah! comme ça me fait mal aux genoux_," and went forward. two rocks break through the snow between the summit of the mur and the top of the mountain; the first is called the petits mulets, and the highest the derniers rochers. at the former of these we paused to rest, and finished our scanty store of wine and provisions. we had not a bit of bread nor a drop of wine left; our brandy flasks were also nearly exhausted, and thus we had to contemplate the journey to the summit, and the subsequent descent to the grands mulets, without the slightest prospect of physical refreshment. the almost total loss of two nights' sleep, with two days' toil superadded, made me long for a few minutes' doze, so i stretched myself upon a composite couch of snow and granite, and immediately fell asleep. my friend, however, soon aroused me. "you quite frighten me," he said; "i have listened for some minutes, and have not heard you breathe once." i had, in reality, been taking deep draughts of the mountain air, but so silently as not to be heard. i now filled our empty wine-bottle with snow and placed it in the sunshine, that we might have a little water on our return. we then rose; it was half-past two o'clock; we had been upwards of twelve hours climbing, and i calculated that, whether we reached the summit or not, we could at all events work _towards_ it for another hour. to the sense of fatigue previously experienced, a new phenomenon was now added--the beating of the heart. we were incessantly pulled up by this, which sometimes became so intense as to suggest danger. i counted the number of paces which we were able to accomplish without resting, and found that at the end of every twenty, sometimes at the end of fifteen, we were compelled to pause. at each pause my heart throbbed audibly, as i leaned upon my staff, and the subsidence of this action was always the signal for further advance. my breathing was quick, but light and unimpeded. i endeavoured to ascertain whether the hip-joint, on account of the diminished atmospheric pressure, became loosened, so as to throw the weight of the leg upon the surrounding ligaments, but could not be certain about it. i also sought a little aid and encouragement from philosophy, endeavouring to remember what great things had been done by the accumulation of small quantities, and i urged upon myself that the present was a case in point, and that the summation of distances twenty paces each must finally place us at the top. still the question of time left the matter long in doubt, and until we had passed the derniers rochers we worked on with the stern indifference of men who were doing their duty, and did not look to consequences. here, however, a gleam of hope began to brighten our souls; the summit became visibly nearer, simond showed more alacrity; at length success became certain, and at half-past three p.m. my friend and i clasped hands upon the top. [sidenote: the summit attained. .] the summit of the mountain is an elongated ridge, which has been compared to the back of an ass. it was perfectly manifest that we were dominant over all other mountains; as far as the eye could range mont blanc had no competitor. the summits which had looked down upon us in the morning were now far beneath us. the dôme du goûter, which had held its threatening _séracs_ above us so long, was now at our feet. the aiguille du midi, mont blanc du tacul, and the monts maudits, the talèfre with its surrounding peaks, the grand jorasse, mont mallet, and the aiguille du géant, with our own familiar glaciers, were all below us. and as our eye ranged over the broad shoulders of the mountain, over ice hills and valleys, plateaux and far-stretching slopes of snow, the conception of its magnitude grew upon us, and impressed us more and more. [sidenote: clouds from the summit. .] the clouds were very grand--grander indeed than anything i had ever before seen. some of them seemed to hold thunder in their breasts, they were so dense and dark; others, with their faces turned sunward, shone with the dazzling whiteness of the mountain snow; while others again built themselves into forms resembling gigantic elm trees, loaded with foliage. towards the horizon the luxury of colour added itself to the magnificent alternations of light and shade. clear spaces of amber and ethereal green embraced the red and purple cumuli, and seemed to form the cradle in which they swung. closer at hand squally mists, suddenly engendered, were driven hither and thither by local winds; while the clouds at a distance lay "like angels sleeping on the wing," with scarcely visible motion. mingling with the clouds, and sometimes rising above them, were the highest mountain heads, and as our eyes wandered from peak to peak, onwards to the remote horizon, space itself seemed more vast from the manner in which the objects which it held were distributed. [sidenote: intensity of sound. .] i wished to repeat the remarkable experiment of de saussure upon sound, and for this purpose had requested simond to bring a pistol from chamouni; but in the multitude of his cares he forgot it, and in lieu of it my host at the montanvert had placed in two tin tubes, of the same size and shape, the same amount of gunpowder, securely closing the tubes afterwards, and furnishing each of them with a small lateral aperture. we now planted one of them upon the snow, and bringing a strip of amadou into communication with the touchhole, ignited its most distant end: it failed; we tried again, and were successful, the explosion tearing asunder the little case which contained the powder. the sound was certainly not so great as i should have expected from an equal quantity of powder at the sea level.[b] the snow upon the summit was indurated, but of an exceedingly fine grain, and the beautiful effect already referred to as noticed upon the stelvio was strikingly manifest. the hole made by driving the bâton into the snow was filled with a delicate blue light; and, by management, its complementary pinky yellow could also be produced. even the iron spike at the end of the bâton made a hole sufficiently deep to exhibit the blue colour, which certainly depends on the size and arrangement of the snow crystals. the firmament above us was without a cloud, and of a darkness almost equal to that which surrounded the moon at a.m. still, though the sun was shining, a breeze, whose tooth had been sharpened by its passage over the snow-fields, searched us through and through. the day was also waning, and, urged by the warnings of our ever prudent guide, we at length began the descent. [sidenote: an unexpected glissade. .] gravity was now in our favour, but gravity could not entirely spare our wearied limbs, and where we sank in the snow we found our downward progress very trying. i suffered from thirst, but after we had divided the liquefied snow at the petits mulets amongst us we had nothing to drink. i crammed the clean snow into my mouth, but the process of melting was slow and tantalizing to a parched throat, while the chill was painful to the teeth. we marched along the corridor, and crossed cautiously the perilous slope on which we had cut steps in the morning, breathing more freely after we had cleared the ice-precipice before described. along the base of this precipice we now wound, diverging from our morning's track, in order to get surer footing in the snow; it was like flour, and while descending to the grand plateau we sometimes sank in it nearly to the waist. when i endeavoured to squeeze it, so as to fill my flask, it at first refused to cling together, behaving like so much salt; the heat of the hand, however, soon rendered it a little moist, and capable of being pressed into compact masses. the sun met us here with extraordinary power; the heat relaxed my muscles, but when fairly immersed in the shadow of the dôme du goûter, the coolness restored my strength, which augmented as the evening advanced. simond insisted on the necessity of haste, to save us from the perils of darkness. "_on peut périr_" was his repeated admonition, and he was quite right. we reached the region of _ponts_, more weary, but, in compensation, more callous, than we had been in the morning, and moved over the soft snow of the bridges as if we had been walking upon eggs. the valley of chamouni was filled with brown-red clouds, which crept towards us up the mountain; the air around and above us was, however, clear, and the chastened light told us that day was departing. once as we hung upon a steep slope, where the snow was exceedingly soft, hirst omitted to make his footing sure; the soft mass gave way, and he fell, uttering a startled shout as he went down the declivity. i was attached to him, and, fixing my feet suddenly in the snow, endeavoured to check his fall, but i seemed a mere feather in opposition to the force with which he descended.[c] i fell, and went down after him; and we carried quite an avalanche of snow along with us, in which we were almost completely hidden at the bottom of the slope. all further dangers, however, were soon past, and we went at a headlong speed to the base of the grands mulets; the sound of our bâtons against the rocks calling huxley forth. a position more desolate than his had been can hardly be imagined. for seventeen hours he had been there. he had expected us at two o'clock in the afternoon; the hours came and passed, and till seven in the evening he had looked for us. "to the end of my life," he said, "i shall never forget the sound of those bâtons." it was his turn now to nurse me, which he did, repaying my previous care of him with high interest. we were all soon stretched, and, in spite of cold and hard boards, i slept at intervals; but the night, on the whole, was a weary one, and we rose next morning with muscles more tired than when we lay down. [sidenote: blind amid the crevasses. .] _friday, th august._--hirst was almost blind this morning; and our guide's eyes were also greatly inflamed. we gathered our things together, and bade the grands mulets farewell. it had frozen hard during the night, and this, on the steeper slopes, rendered the footing very insecure. simond, moreover, appeared to be a little bewildered, and i sometimes preceded him in cutting the steps, while hirst moved among the crevasses like a blind man; one of us keeping near him, so that he might feel for the actual places where our feet had rested, and place his own in the same position. it cost us three hours to cross from the grands mulets to the pierre a l'echelle, where we discarded our leggings, had a mouthful of food, and a brief rest. once upon the safe earth simond's powers seemed to be restored, and he led us swiftly downwards to the little auberge beside the cascade du tard, where we had some excellent lemonade, equally choice cognac, fresh strawberries and cream. how sweet they were, and how beautiful we thought the peasant girl who served them! our guide kept a little hotel, at which we halted, and found it clean and comfortable. we were, in fact, totally unfit to go elsewhere. my coat was torn, holes were kicked through my boots, and i was altogether ragged and shabby. a warm bath before dinner refreshed all mightily. dense clouds now lowered upon mont blanc, and we had not been an hour at chamouni when the breaking up of the weather was announced by a thunder-peal. we had accomplished our journey just in time. footnotes: [a] those acquainted with the mountain will at once recognise the grave error here committed. in fact on starting from the grands mulets we had crossed the glacier too far, and throughout were much too close to the dôme du goûter. [b] i fired the second case in a field in hampshire, and, as far as my memory enabled me to make the comparison, found its sound considerably _denser_, if i may use the expression. in i had a pistol fired at the summit of mont blanc: its sound was sensibly feebler and _shorter_ than in the valley; it resembled somewhat the discharge of a cork from a champagne bottle, though much louder, but it could not be at all compared to the sound of a common cracker. [c] i believe that i could stop him now ( ). ( .) [sidenote: happy evenings. .] after our return we spent every available hour upon the ice, working at questions which shall be treated under their proper heads, each day's work being wound up by an evening of perfect enjoyment. roast mutton and fried potatoes were our incessant fare, for which, after a little longing for a change at first, we contracted a final and permanent love. as the year advanced, moreover, and the grass sprouted with augmented vigour on the slopes of the montanvert, the mutton, as predicted by our host, became more tender and juicy. we had also some capital sallenches beer, cold as the glacier water, but effervescent as champagne. such were our food and drink. after dinner we gathered round the pine-fire, and i can hardly think it possible for three men to be more happy than we then were. it was not the goodness of the conversation, nor any high intellectual element, which gave the charm to our gatherings; the gladness grew naturally out of our own perfect health, and out of the circumstances of our position. every fibre seemed a repository of latent joy, which the slightest stimulus sufficed to bring into conscious action. [sidenote: a glacier "blower." .] on the th i penetrated with simond through thick gloom to the tacul; on the th we set stakes at the same place: on the same day, while crossing the medial moraine of the talèfre, a little below the cascade, a singular noise attracted my attention; it seemed at first as if a snake were hissing about my feet. on changing my position the sound suddenly ceased, but it soon recommenced. there was some snow upon the glacier, which i removed, and placed my ear close to the ice, but it was difficult to fix on the precise spot from which the sound issued. i cut away the disintegrated portion of the surface, and at length discovered a minute crack, from which a stream of air issued, which i could feel as a cold blast against my hand. while cutting away the surface further, i stopped the little "blower." a marmot screamed near me, and while i paused to look at the creature scampering up the crags, the sound commenced again, changing its note variously--hissing like a snake, singing like a kettle, and sometimes chirruping intermittently like a bird. on passing my fingers to and fro over the crack, i obtained a succession of audible puffs; the current was sufficiently strong to blow away the corner of a gauze veil held over the fissure. still the crack was not wide enough to permit of the entrance of my finger nail; and to issue with such force from so minute a rent the air must have been under considerable pressure. the origin of the blower was in all probability the following:--when the ice is recompacted after having descended a cascade, it is next to certain that chambers of air will be here and there enclosed, which, being powerfully squeezed afterwards, will issue in the manner described whenever a crack in the ice furnishes it with a means of escape. in my experiments on flowing mud, for example, the air entrapped in the mass while descending from the sluice into the trough, bursts in bubbles from the surface at a short distance downwards. [sidenote: a difficult line. .] i afterwards examined the talèfre cascade from summit to base, with reference to the structure, until at the close of the day thickening clouds warned me off. i went down the glacier at a trot, guided by the boulders capped with little cairns which marked the route. the track which i had pursued for the last five weeks amid the crevasses near l'angle was this day barely passable. the glacier had changed, my work was drawing to a close, and, as i looked at the objects which had now become so familiar to me, i felt that, though not viscous, the ice did not lack the quality of "adhesiveness," and i felt a little sad at the thought of bidding it so soon farewell. at some distance below the montanvert the mer de glace is riven from side to side by transverse crevasses: these fissures indicate that the glacier where they occur is in a state of longitudinal strain which produces transverse fracture. i wished to ascertain the amount of stretching which the glacier here demanded, and which the ice was not able to give; and for this purpose desired to compare the velocity of a line set out across the fissured portion with that of a second line staked out across the ice before it had become thus fissured. a previous inspection of the glacier through the telescope of our theodolite induced us to fix on a place which, though much riven, still did not exclude the hope of our being able to reach the other side. each of us was, as usual, armed with his own axe; and carrying with us suitable stakes, my guide and myself entered upon this portion of the glacier on the morning of the th of august. [sidenote: "nous nous trouverons perdus!" .] i was surprised on entering to find some veins of white ice, which from their position and aspect appeared to be derived from the glacier du géant; but to these i shall subsequently refer. our work was extremely difficult; we penetrated to some distance along one line, but were finally forced back, and compelled to try another. right and left of us were profound fissures, and once a cone of ice forty feet high leaned quite over our track. in front of us was a second leaning mass borne by a mere stalk, and so topheavy that one wondered why the slight pedestal on which it rested did not suddenly crack across. we worked slowly forwards, and soon found ourselves in the shadow of the topheavy mass above referred to; and from which i escaped with a wounded hand, caused by over-haste. simond surmounted the next ridge and exclaimed, "_nous nous trouverons perdus!_" i reached his side, and on looking round the place saw that there was no footing for man. the glacier here, as shown in the frontispiece, was cut up into thin wedges, separated from each other by profound chasms, and the wedges were so broken across as to render creeping along their edges quite impossible. thus brought to a stand, i fixed a stake at the point where we were forced to halt, and retreated along edges of detestable granular ice, which fell in showers into the crevasses when struck by the axe. at one place an exceedingly deep fissure was at our left, which was joined, at a sharp angle, by another at our right, and we were compelled to cross at the place of intersection: to do this we had to trust ourselves to a projecting knob of that vile rotten ice which i had learned to fear since my experience of it on the col du géant. we finally escaped, and set out our line at another place, where the glacier, though badly cut, was not impassable. [sidenote: farewell to the montanvert. .] on the th we made a series of final measurements at the tacul, and determined the motion of two lines which we had set out the previous day. on the st we quitted the montanvert; i had been there from the th of july, and the longer i remained the better i liked the establishment and the people connected with it. it was then managed by joseph tairraz and jules charlet, both of whom showed us every attention. in and i had occasion to revisit the establishment, which was then managed by jules and his brother, and found in it the same good qualities. during my winter expedition of i also found the same readiness to assist me in every possible way; honest jules expressing his willingness to ascend through the snow to the auberge if i thought his presence would in any degree contribute to my comfort. we crossed the glacier, and descended by the chapeau to the cascade des bois, the inclination of which and of the lower portion of the glacier we then determined. the day was magnificent. looking upwards, the aiguilles de charmoz and du dru rose right and left like sentinels of the valley, while in front of us the ice descended the steep, a bewildering mass of crags and chasms. at the other side was the pine-clad slope of the montanvert. further on the aiguille du midi threw its granite pyramid between us and mont blanc; on the dôme du goûter the _séracs_ of the mountain were to be seen, while issuing as if from a cleft in the mountain side the glacier des bossons thrust through the black pines its snowy tongue. below us was the beautiful valley of chamouni itself, through which the arve and arveiron rushed like enlivening spirits. we finally examined a grand old moraine produced by a mer de glace of other ages, when the ice quite crossed the valley of chamouni and abutted against the opposite mountain-wall. [sidenote: edouard simond. .] simond had proved himself a very valuable assistant; he was intelligent and perfectly trustworthy; and though the peculiar nature of my work sometimes caused me to attempt things against which his prudence protested, he lacked neither strength nor courage. on reaching chamouni and adding up our accounts, i found that i had not sufficient cash to pay him; money was waiting for me at the post-office in geneva, and thither it was arranged that my friend hirst should proceed next morning, while i was to await the arrival of the money at chamouni. my guide heard of this arrangement, and divined its cause: he came to me, and in the most affectionate manner begged of me to accept from him the loan of francs. though i did not need the loan, the mode in which it was offered to me augmented the kindly feelings which i had long entertained towards simond, and i may add that my intercourse with him since has served only to confirm my first estimate of his worthiness. expedition of . ( .) [sidenote: doubts regarding structure. .] i had confined myself during the summer of to the mer de glace and its tributaries, desirous to make my knowledge accurate rather than extensive. i had made the acquaintance of all accessible parts of the glacier, and spared no pains to master both the details and the meaning of the laminated structure of the ice, but i found no fact upon which i could take my stand and say to an advocate of an opposing theory, "this is unassailable." in experimental science we have usually the power of changing the conditions at pleasure; if nature does not reply to a question we throw it into another form; a combining of conditions is, in fact, the essence of experiment. to meet the requirements of the present question, i could not twist the same glacier into various shapes, and throw it into different states of strain and pressure; but i might, by visiting many glaciers, find all needful conditions fulfilled in detail, and by observing these i hoped to confer upon the subject the character and precision of a true experimental inquiry. the summer of was accordingly devoted to this purpose, when i had the good fortune to be accompanied by professor ramsay, the author of some extremely interesting papers upon ancient glaciers. taking zürich, schaffhausen, and lucerne in our way, we crossed the brünig on the nd of july, and met my guide, christian lauener, at meyringen. on the rd we visited the glacier of rosenlaui, and the glacier of the schwartzwald, and reached grindelwald in the evening of the same day. my expedition with mr. huxley had taught me that the lower grindelwald glacier was extremely instructive, and i was anxious to see many parts of it once more; this i did, in company with ramsay, and we also spent a day upon the upper glacier, after which our path lay over the strahleck to the glaciers of the aar and of the rhone. passage of the strahleck. ( .) [sidenote: a gloomy prospect. .] on monday, the th of july, we were called at a.m., and found the weather very unpromising, but the two mornings which preceded it had also been threatening without any evil result. there was, it is true, something more than usually hostile in the aspect of the clouds which sailed sullenly from the west, and smeared the air and mountains as if with the dirty smoke of a manufacturing town. we despatched our coffee, went down to the bottom of the grindelwald valley, up the opposite slope, and were soon amid the gloom of the pines which partially cover it. on emerging from these, a watery gleam on the mottled head of the eiger was the only evidence of direct sunlight in that direction. to our left was the wetterhorn surrounded by wild and disorderly clouds, through the fissures of which the morning light glared strangely. for a time the heisse platte was seen, a dark brown patch amid the ghastly blue which overspread the surrounding slopes of snow. the clouds once rolled up, and revealed for a moment the summits of the viescherhörner; but they immediately settled down again, and hid the mountains from top to base. soon afterwards they drew themselves partially aside, and a patch of blue over the strahleck gave us hope and pleasure. as we ascended, the prospect in front of us grew better, but that behind us--and the wind came from behind--grew worse. slowly and stealthily the dense neutral-tint masses crept along the sides of the mountains, and seemed to dog us like spies; while over the glacier hung a thin veil of fog, through which gleamed the white minarets of the ice. [sidenote: ice cascade and protuberances. .] [sidenote: dirt-bands of the strahleck branch. .] when we first spoke of crossing the strahleck, lauener said it would be necessary to take two guides at least; but after a day's performance on the ice he thought we might manage very well by taking, in addition to himself, the herd of the alp, over the more difficult part of the pass. he had further experience of us on the second day, and now, as we approached the herd's hut, i was amused to hear him say that he thought any assistance beside his own unnecessary. relying upon ourselves, therefore, we continued our route, and were soon upon the glacier, which had been rendered smooth and slippery through the removal of its disintegrated surface by the warm air. crossing the strahleck branch of the glacier to its left side, we climbed the rocks to the grass and flowers which clothe the slopes above them. our way sometimes lay over these, sometimes along the beds of streams, across turbulent brooks, and once around the face of a cliff, which afforded us about an inch of ledge to stand upon, and some protruding splinters to lay hold of by the hands. having reached a promontory which commanded a fine view of the glacier, and of the ice cascade by which it was fed, i halted, to check the observations already made from the side of the opposite mountain. here, as there, cliffy ridges were seen crossing the cascade of the glacier, with interposed spaces of dirt and débris--the former being toned down, and the latter squeezed towards the base of the fall, until finally the ridges swept across the glacier, in gentle swellings, from side to side; while the valleys between them, holding the principal share of the superficial impurity, formed the cradles of the so-called dirt-bands. these swept concentric with the protuberances across the glacier, and remained upon its surface even after the swellings had disappeared. the swifter flow of the centre of the glacier tends of course incessantly to lengthen the loops of the bands, and to thrust the summits of the curves which they form more and more in advance of their lateral portions. the depressions between the protuberances appeared to be furrowed by minor wrinkles, as if the ice of the depressions had yielded more than that of the protuberances. this, i think, is extremely probable, though it has never yet been proved. three stakes, placed, one on the summit, another on the frontal slope, and another at the base of a protuberance, would, i think, move with unequal velocities. they would, i think, show that, upon the large and general motion of the glacier, smaller motions are superposed, as minor oscillations are known to cover parasitically the large ones of a vibrating string. possibly, also, the dirt-bands may owe something to the squeezing of impurities out of the glacier to its surface in the intervals between the swellings. from our present position we could also see the swellings on the viescherhörner branch of the glacier, in the valleys between which coarse shingle and débris were collected, which would form dirt-bands if they could. on neither branch, however, do the bands attain the definition and beauty which they possess upon the mer de glace. after an instructive lesson we faced our task once more, passing amid crags and boulders, and over steep moraines, from which the stones rolled down upon the slightest disturbance. while crossing a slope of snow with an inclination of °, my footing gave way, i fell, but turned promptly on my face, dug my staff deeply into the snow, and arrested the motion before i had slid a dozen yards. ramsay was behind me, speculating whether he should be able to pass the same point without slipping; before he reached it, however, the snow yielded, he fell, and slid swiftly downwards. lauener, whose attention had been aroused by my fall, chanced to be looking round when ramsay's footing yielded. with the velocity of a projectile he threw himself upon my companion, seized him, and brought him to rest before he had reached the bottom of the slope. the act made a very favourable impression upon me, it was so prompt and instinctive. an eagle could not swoop upon its prey with more directness of aim and swiftness of execution. [sidenote: ice cliffs through the fog. .] while this went on the clouds were playing hide and seek with the mountains. the ice-crags and pinnacles to our left, looming through the haze, seemed of gigantic proportions, reminding one of the hades of byron's 'cain.' "how sunless and how vast are these dim realms!" we climbed for some time along the moraine which flanks the cascade, and on reaching the level of the brow lauener paused, cast off his knapsack, and declared for breakfast. while engaged with it the dense clouds which had crammed the gorge and obscured the mountains, all melted away, and a scene of indescribable magnificence was revealed. overhead the sky suddenly deepened to dark blue, and against it the finsteraarhorn projected his dark and mighty mass. brown spurs jutted from the mountain, and between them were precipitous snow-slopes, fluted by the descent of rocks and avalanches, and broken into ice-precipices lower down. right in front of us, and from its proximity more gigantic to the eye, was the schreckhorn, while from couloirs and mountain-slopes the matter of glaciers yet to be was poured into the vast basin on the rim of which we now stood. [sidenote: mutations of the clouds. .] this it was next our object to cross; our way lying in part through deep snow-slush, the scene changing perpetually from blue heaven to gray haze which massed itself at intervals in dense clouds about the mountains. after crossing the basin our way lay partly over slopes of snow, partly over loose shingle, and at one place along the edge of a formidable precipice of rock. we sat down sometimes to rest, and during these pauses, though they were very brief, the scene had time to go through several of its protean mutations. at one moment all would be perfectly serene, no cloud in the transparent air to tell us that any portion of it was in motion, while the blue heaven threw its flattened arch over the magnificent amphitheatre. then in an instant, from some local cauldron, the vapour would boil up suddenly, eddying wildly in the air, which a moment before seemed so still, and enveloping the entire scene. thus the space enclosed by the finsteraarhorn, the viescherhörner, and the schreckhorn, would at one moment be filled with fog to the mountain heads, every trace of which a few minutes sufficed to sweep away, leaving the unstained blue of heaven behind it, and the mountains showing sharp and jagged outlines in the glassy air. one might be almost led to imagine that the vapour molecules endured a strain similar to that of water cooled below its freezing point, or heated beyond its boiling point; and that, on the strain being relieved by the sudden yielding of the opposing force, the particles rushed together, and thus filled in an instant the clear atmosphere with aqueous precipitation. i had no idea that the strahleck was so fine a pass. whether it is the quality of my mind to take in the glory of the present so intensely as to make me forgetful of the glory of the past, i know not, but it appeared to me that i had never seen anything finer than the scene from the summit. the amphitheatre formed by the mountains seemed to me of exceeding magnificence; nor do i think that my feeling was subjective merely; for the simple magnitude of the masses which built up the spectacle would be sufficient to declare its grandeur. looking down towards the glacier of the aar, a scene of wild beauty and desolation presented itself. not a trace of vegetation could be seen along the whole range of the bounding mountains; glaciers streamed from their shoulders into the valley beneath, where they welded themselves to form the finsteraar affluent of the unteraar glacier. [sidenote: descent of the crags. .] after a brief pause, lauener again strapped on his knapsack, and tempered both will and muscles by the remark, that our worst piece of work was now before us. from the place where we sat, the mountain fell precipitously for several hundred feet; and down the weathered crags, and over the loose shingle which encumbered their ledges, our route now lay. lauener was in front, cool and collected, lending at times a hand to ramsay, and a word of encouragement to both of us, while i brought up the rear. i found my full haversack so inconvenient that i once or twice thought of sending it down the crags in advance of me, but lauener assured me that it would be utterly destroyed before reaching the bottom. my complaint against it was, that at critical places it sometimes came between me and the face of the cliff, pushing me away from the latter so as to throw my centre of gravity almost beyond the base intended to support it. we came at length upon a snow-slope, which had for a time an inclination of °; then once more to the rocks; again to the snow, which was both steep and deep. our bâtons were at least six feet long: we drove them into the snow to secure an anchorage, but they sank to their very ends, and we merely retained a length of them sufficient for a grasp. this slope was intersected by a so-called bergschrund, the lower portion of the slope being torn away from its upper portion so as to form a crevasse that extended quite round the head of the valley. we reached its upper edge; the chasm was partially filled with snow, which brought its edges so near that we cleared it by a jump. the rest of the slope was descended by a _glissade_. each sat down upon the snow, and the motion, once commenced, swiftly augmented to the rate of an avalanche, and brought us pleasantly to the bottom. [sidenote: through gloom to the grimsel. .] as we looked from the heights, we could see that the valley through which our route lay was filled with gray fog: into this we soon plunged, and through it we made our way towards the abschwung. the inclination of the glacier was our only guide, for we could see nothing. reaching the confluence of the finsteraar and lauteraar branches, we went downwards with long swinging strides, close alongside the medial moraine of the trunk glacier. the glory of the morning had its check in the dull gloom of the evening. across streams, amid dirt-cones and glacier-tables, and over the long reach of shingle which covers the end of the glacier, we plodded doggedly, and reached the grimsel at p.m., the journey having cost a little more than hours. ( .) [sidenote: ancient glacier action. .] we made the grimsel our station for a day, which was spent in examining the evidences of ancient glacier action in the valley of hasli. near the hospice, but at the opposite side of the aar, rises a mountain-wall of hard granite, on which the flutings and groovings are magnificently preserved. after a little practice the eye can trace with the utmost precision the line which marks the level of the ancient ice: above this the crags are sharp and rugged; while below it the mighty grinder has rubbed off the pinnacles of the rocks and worn their edges away. the height to which this action extends must be nearly two thousand feet above the bed of the present valley. it is also easy to see the depth to which the river has worked its channel into the ancient rocks. in some cases the road from guttanen to the grimsel lay right over the polished rocks, asperities being supplied by the chisel of man in order to prevent travellers from slipping on their slopes. here and there also huge protuberant crags were rounded into domes almost as perfect as if chiselled by art. to both my companion and myself this walk was full of instruction and delight. on the th of july we crossed the grimsel pass, and traced the scratchings to the very top of it. ramsay remarked that their direction changed high up the pass, as if a tributary from the summit had produced them, while lower down they merged into the general direction of the glacier which had filled the principal valley. from the summit of the mayenwand we had a clear view of the glacier of the rhone; and to see the lower portion of this glacier to advantage no better position can be chosen. the dislocation of its cascade, the spreading out of the ice below, its system of radial crevasses, and the transverse sweep of its structural groovings, may all be seen. a few hours afterwards we were among the wild chasms at the brow of the ice-fall, where we worked our way to the centre of the ice, but were unable to attain the opposite side. having examined the glacier both above and below the cascade, we went down the valley to viesch, and ascended thence, on the th of july, to the hôtel jungfrau on the slopes of the Æggischhorn. on the following day we climbed to the summit of the mountain, and from a sheltered nook enjoyed the glorious prospect which it commands. the wind was strong, and fleecy clouds flew over the heavens; some of which, as they formed and dispersed themselves about the flanks of the aletschhorn, showed extraordinary iridescences. [sidenote: the mÄrjelen see. .] the sunbeams called us early on the morning of the st of august. no cloud rested on the opposite range of the valais mountains, but on looking towards the Æggischhorn we found a cap upon its crest; we looked again--the cap had disappeared and a serene heaven stretched overhead. as we breasted the alp the moon was still in the sky, paling more and more before the advancing day; a single hawk swung in the atmosphere above us; clear streams babbled from the hills, the louder sounds reposing on a base of music; while groups of cows with tinkling bells browsed upon the green alp. here and there the grass was dispossessed, and the flanks of the mountain were covered by the blocks which had been cast down from the summit. on reaching the plateau at the base of the final pyramid, we rounded the mountain to the right and came over the lonely and beautiful märjelen see. no doubt the hollow which this lake fills had been scooped out in former ages by a branch of the aletsch glacier; but long ago the blue ice gave place to blue water. the glacier bounds it at one side by a vertical wall of ice sixty feet in height: this is incessantly undermined, a roof of crystal being formed over the water, till at length the projecting mass, becoming too heavy for its own rigidity, breaks and tumbles into the lake. here, attacked by sun and air, its blue surface is rendered dazzlingly white, and several icebergs of this kind now floated in the sunlight; the water was of a glassy smoothness, and in its blue depths each ice mass doubled itself by reflection.[a] [sidenote: the aletsch glacier. .] the aletsch is the grandest glacier in the alps: over it we now stood, while the bounding mountains poured vast feeders into the noble stream. the jungfrau was in front of us without a cloud, and apparently so near that i proposed to my guide to try it without further preparation. he was enthusiastic at first, but caution afterwards got the better of his courage. at some distance up the glacier the snow-line was distinctly drawn, and from its edge upwards the mighty shoulders of the hills were heavy laden with the still powdery material of the glacier. amid blocks and débris we descended to the ice: the portion of it which bounded the lake had been sapped, and a space of a foot existed between ice and water: numerous chasms were formed here, the mass being thus broken, preparatory to being sent adrift upon the lake. we crossed the glacier to its centre, and looking down it the grand peaks of the mischabel, the noble cone of the weisshorn, and the dark and stern obelisk of the matterhorn, formed a splendid picture. looking upwards, a series of most singularly contorted dirt-bands revealed themselves upon the surface of the ice. i sought to trace them to their origin, but was frustrated by the snow which overspread the upper portion of the glacier. along this we marched for three hours, and came at length to the junction of the four tributary valleys which pour their frozen streams into the great trunk valley. the glory of the day, and that joy of heart which perfect health confers, may have contributed to produce the impression, but i thought i had never seen anything to rival in magnificence the region in the heart of which we now found ourselves. we climbed the mountain on the right-hand side of the glacier, where, seated amid the riven and weather-worn crags, we fed our souls for hours on the transcendent beauty of the scene. [sidenote: a chamois deceived. .] we afterwards redescended to the glacier, which at this place was intersected by large transverse crevasses, many of which were apparently filled with snow, while over others a thin and treacherous roof was thrown. in some cases the roof had broken away, and revealed rows of icicles of great length and transparency pendent from the edges. we at length turned our faces homewards, and looking down the glacier i saw at a great distance something moving on the ice. i first thought it was a man, though it seemed strange that a man should be there alone. on drawing my guide's attention to it he at once pronounced it to be a chamois, and i with my telescope immediately verified his statement. the creature bounded up the glacier at intervals, and sometimes the vigour of its spring showed that it had projected itself over a crevasse. it approached us sometimes at full gallop: then would stop, look toward us, pipe loudly, and commence its race once more. it evidently made the reciprocal mistake to my own, imagining us to be of its own kith and kin. we sat down upon the ice the better to conceal our forms, and to its whistle our guide whistled in reply. a joyous rush was the creature's first response to the signal; but it afterwards began to doubt, and its pauses became more frequent. its form at times was extremely graceful, the head erect in the air, its apparent uprightness being augmented by the curvature which threw its horns back. i watched the animal through my glass until i could see the glistening of its eyes; but soon afterwards it made a final pause, assured itself of its error, and flew with the speed of the wind to its refuge in the mountains. footnotes: [a] a painting of this exquisite lake has been recently executed by mr. george barnard. ascent of the finsteraarhorn, . ( .) [sidenote: my guide. .] since my arrival at the hotel on the th of july i had once or twice spoken about ascending the finsteraarhorn, and on the nd of august my host advised me to avail myself of the promising weather. a guide, named bennen, was attached to the hotel, a remarkable-looking man, between and years old, of middle stature, but very strongly built. his countenance was frank and firm, while a light of good-nature at times twinkled in his eye. altogether the man gave me the impression of physical strength, combined with decision of character. the proprietor had spoken to me many times of the strength and courage of this man, winding up his praises of him by the assurance that if i were killed in bennen's company there would be two lives lost, for that the guide would assuredly sacrifice himself in the effort to save his _herr_. he was called, and i asked him whether he would accompany me alone to the top of the finsteraarhorn. to this he at first objected, urging the possibility of his having to render me assistance, and the great amount of labour which this might entail upon him; but this was overruled by my engaging to follow where he led, without asking him to render me any help whatever. he then agreed to make the trial, stipulating, however, that he should not have much to carry to the cave of the faulberg, where we were to spend the night. to this i cordially agreed, and sent on blankets, provisions, wood, and hay, by two porters. [sidenote: iridescent cloud. .] my desire, in part, was to make a series of observations at the summit of the mountain, while a similar series was made by professor ramsay in the valley of the rhone, near viesch, with a view to ascertaining the permeability of the lower strata of the atmosphere to the radiant heat of the sun. during the forenoon of the nd i occupied myself with my instruments, and made the proper arrangements with ramsay. i tested a mountain-thermometer which mr. casella had kindly lent me, and found the boiling point of water on the dining-room table of the hotel to be . ° fahrenheit. at about three o'clock in the afternoon we quitted the hotel, and proceeded leisurely with our two guides up the slope of the Æggischhorn. we once caught a sight of the topmost pinnacle of the finsteraarhorn; beside it was the rothhorn, and near this again the oberaarhorn, with the viescher glacier streaming from its shoulders. on the opposite side we could see, over an oblique buttress of the mountain on which we stood, the snowy summit of the weisshorn; to the left of this was the ever grim and lonely matterhorn; and farther to the left, with its numerous snow-cones, each with its attendant shadow, rose the mighty mischabel. we descended, and crossed the stream which flows from the märjelen see, into which a large mass of the glacier had recently fallen, and was now afloat as an iceberg. we passed along the margin of the lake, and at the junction of water and ice i bade ramsay good-bye. at the commencement of our journey upon the ice, whenever we crossed a crevasse, i noticed bennen watching me; his vigilance, however, soon diminished, whence i gathered that he finally concluded that i was able to take care of myself. clouds hovered in the atmosphere throughout the whole time of our ascent; one smoky-looking mass marred the glory of the sunset, but at some distance was another which exhibited colours almost as rich and varied as those of the solar spectrum. i took the glorious banner thus unfurled as a sign of hope, to check the despondency which its gloomy neighbour was calculated to produce. [sidenote: evening near the jungfrau. .] two hours' walking brought us near our place of rest; the porters had already reached it, and were now returning. we deviated to the right, and, having crossed some ice-ravines, reached the lateral moraine of the glacier, and picked our way between it and the adjacent mountain-wall. we then reached a kind of amphitheatre, crossed it, and climbing the opposite slope, came to a triple grotto formed by clefts in the mountain. in one of these a pine-fire was soon blazing briskly, and casting its red light upon the surrounding objects, though but half dispelling the gloom from the deeper portions of the cell. i left the grotto, and climbed the rocks above it to look at the heavens. the sun had quitted our firmament, but still tinted the clouds with red and purple; while one peak of snow in particular glowed like fire, so vivid was its illumination. during our journey upwards the jungfrau never once showed her head, but, as if in ill temper, had wrapped her vapoury veil around her. she now looked more good-humoured, but still she did not quite remove her hood; though all the other summits, without a trace of cloud to mask their beautiful forms, pointed heavenward. the calmness was perfect; no sound of living creature, no whisper of a breeze, no gurgle of water, no rustle of débris, to break the deep and solemn silence. surely, if beauty be an object of worship, those glorious mountains, with rounded shoulders of the purest white--snow-crested and star-gemmed--were well calculated to excite sentiments of adoration. [sidenote: the cave of the faulberg. .] i returned to the grotto, where supper was prepared and waiting for me. the boiling point of water, at the level of the "kitchen" floor, i found to be ° fahr. nothing could be more picturesque than the aspect of the cave before we went to rest. the fire was gleaming ruddily. i sat upon a stone bench beside it, while bennen was in front with the red light glimmering fitfully over him. my boiling-water apparatus, which had just been used, was in the foreground; and telescopes, opera-glasses, haversacks, wine-keg, bottles, and mattocks, lay confusedly around. the heavens continued to grow clearer, the thin clouds, which had partially overspread the sky, melting gradually away. the grotto was comfortable; the hay sufficient materially to modify the hardness of the rock, and my position at least sheltered and warm. one possibility remained that might prevent me from sleeping--the snoring of my companion; he assured me, however, that he did not snore, and we lay down side by side. the good fellow took care that i should not be chilled; he gave me the best place, by far the best part of the clothes, and may have suffered himself in consequence; but, happily for him, he was soon oblivious of this. physiologists, i believe, have discovered that it is chiefly during sleep that the muscles are repaired; and ere long the sound i dreaded announced to me at once the repair of bennen's muscles and the doom of my own. the hollow cave resounded to the deep-drawn snore. i once or twice stirred the sleeper, breaking thereby the continuity of the phenomenon; but it instantly pieced itself together again, and went on as before. i had not the heart to wake him, for i knew that upon him would devolve the chief labour of the coming day. at half-past one he rose and prepared coffee, and at two o'clock i was engaged upon the beverage. we afterwards packed up our provisions and instruments. bennen bore the former, i the latter, and at three o'clock we set out. [sidenote: "shall we try the jungfrau?" .] we first descended a steep slope to the glacier, along which we walked for a time. a spur of the faulberg jutted out between us and the ice-laden valley through which we must pass; this we crossed in order to shorten our way and to avoid crevasses. loose shingle and boulders overlaid the mountain; and here and there walls of rock opposed our progress, and rendered the route far from agreeable. we then descended to the grünhorn tributary, which joins the trunk glacier at nearly a right angle, being terminated by a saddle which stretches across from mountain to mountain, with a curvature as graceful and as perfect as if drawn by the instrument of a mathematician. the unclouded moon was shining, and the jungfrau was before us so pure and beautiful, that the thought of visiting the "maiden" without further preparation occurred to me. i turned to bennen, and said, "shall we try the jungfrau?" i think he liked the idea well enough, though he cautiously avoided incurring any responsibility. "if you desire it, i am ready," was his reply. he had never made the ascent, and nobody knew anything of the state of the snow this year; but lauener had examined it through a telescope on the previous day, and pronounced it dangerous. in every ascent of the mountain hitherto made, ladders had been found indispensable, but we had none. i questioned bennen as to what he thought of the probabilities, and tried to extract some direct encouragement from him; but he said that the decision rested altogether with myself, and it was his business to endeavour to carry out that decision. "we will attempt it, then," i said, and for some time we actually walked towards the jungfrau. a gray cloud drew itself across her summit, and clung there. i asked myself why i deviated from my original intention? the finsteraarhorn was higher, and therefore better suited for the contemplated observations. i could in no wise justify the change, and finally expressed my scruples. a moment's further conversation caused us to "right about," and front the saddle of the grünhorn. [sidenote: magnificent scene. .] the dawn advanced. the eastern sky became illuminated and warm, and high in the air across the ridge in front of us stretched a tongue of cloud like a red flame, and equally fervid in its hue. looking across the trunk glacier, a valley which is terminated by the lötsch saddle was seen in a straight line with our route, and i often turned to look along this magnificent corridor. the mightiest mountains in the oberland form its sides; still, the impression which it makes is not that of vastness or sublimity, but of loveliness not to be described. the sun had not yet smitten the snows of the bounding mountains, but the saddle carved out a segment of the heavens which formed a background of unspeakable beauty. over the rim of the saddle the sky was deep orange, passing upwards through amber, yellow, and vague ethereal green to the ordinary firmamental blue. right above the snow-curve purple clouds hung perfectly motionless, giving depth to the spaces between them. there was something saintly in the scene. anything more exquisite i had never beheld. we marched upwards over the smooth crisp snow to the crest of the saddle, and here i turned to take a last look along that grand corridor, and at that wonderful "daffodil sky." the sun's rays had already smitten the snows of the aletschhorn; the radiance seemed to infuse a principle of life and activity into the mountains and glaciers, but still that holy light shone forth, and those motionless clouds floated beyond, reminding one of that eastern religion whose essence is the repression of all action and the substitution for it of immortal calm. the finsteraarhorn now fronted us; but clouds turbaned the head of the giant, and hid it from our view. the wind, however, being north, inspired us with a strong hope that they would melt as the day advanced. i have hardly seen a finer ice-field than that which now lay before us. considering the _névé_ which supplies it, it appeared to me that the viescher glacier ought to discharge as much ice as the aletsch; but this is an error due to the extent of _névé_ which is here at once visible: since a glance at the map of this portion of the oberland shows at once the great superiority of the mountain treasury from which the aletsch glacier draws support. still, the ice-field before us was a most noble one. the surrounding mountains were of imposing magnitude, and loaded to their summits with snow. down the sides of some of them the half-consolidated mass fell in a state of wild fracture and confusion. in some cases the riven masses were twisted and overturned, the ledges bent, and the detached blocks piled one upon another in heaps; while in other cases the smooth white mass descended from crown to base without a wrinkle. the valley now below us was gorged by the frozen material thus incessantly poured into it. we crossed it, and reached the base of the finsteraarhorn, ascended the mountain a little way, and at six o'clock paused to lighten our burdens and to refresh ourselves. [sidenote: the mountain assailed. .] the north wind had freshened, we were in the shade, and the cold was very keen. placing a bottle of tea and a small quantity of provisions in the knapsack, and a few figs and dried prunes in our pockets, we commenced the ascent. the finsteraarhorn sends down a number of cliffy buttresses, separated from each other by wide couloirs filled with ice and snow. we ascended one of these buttresses for a time, treading cautiously among the spiky rocks; afterwards we went along the snow at the edge of the spine, and then fairly parted company with the rock, abandoning ourselves to the _névé_ of the couloir. the latter was steep, and the snow was so firm that steps had to be cut in it. once i paused upon a little ledge, which gave me a slight footing, and took the inclination. the slope formed an angle of ° with the horizon; and across it, at a little distance below me, a gloomy fissure opened its jaws. the sun now cleared the summits which had before cut off his rays, and burst upon us with great power, compelling us to resort to our veils and dark spectacles. two years before, bennen had been nearly blinded by inflammation brought on by the glare from the snow, and he now took unusual care in protecting his eyes. the rocks looking more practicable, we again made towards them, and clambered among them till a vertical precipice, which proved impossible of ascent, fronted us. bennen scanned the obstacle closely as we slowly approached it, and finally descended to the snow, which wound at a steep angle round its base: on this the footing appeared to me to be singularly insecure, but i marched without hesitation or anxiety in the footsteps of my guide. [sidenote: the crest of rocks. .] we ascended the rocks once more, continued along them for some time, and then deviated to the couloir on our left. this snow-slope is much dislocated at its lower portion, and above its precipices and crevasses our route now lay. the snow was smooth, and sufficiently firm and steep to render the cutting of steps necessary. bennen took the lead: to make each step he swung his mattock once, and his hindmost foot rose exactly at the moment the mattock descended; there was thus a kind of rhythm in his motion, the raising of the foot keeping time to the swing of the implement. in this manner we proceeded till we reached the base of the rocky pyramid which caps the mountain. [sidenote: the summit gained. .] one side of the pyramid had been sliced off, thus dropping down almost a sheer precipice for some thousands of feet to the finsteraar glacier. a wall of rock, about or feet high, runs along the edge of the mountain, and this sheltered us from the north wind, which surged with the sound of waves against the tremendous barrier at the other side. "our hardest work is now before us," said my guide. our way lay up the steep and splintered rocks, among which we sought out the spikes which were closely enough wedged to bear our weight. each had to trust to himself, and i fulfilled to the letter my engagement with bennen to ask no help. my boiling-water apparatus and telescope were on my back, much to my annoyance, as the former was heavy, and sometimes swung awkwardly round as i twisted myself among the cliffs. bennen offered to take it, but he had his own share to carry, and i was resolved to bear mine. sometimes the rocks alternated with spaces of ice and snow, which we were at intervals compelled to cross; sometimes, when the slope was pure ice and very steep, we were compelled to retreat to the highest cliffs. the wall to which i have referred had given way in some places, and through the gaps thus formed the wind rushed with a loud, wild, wailing sound. through these spaces i could see the entire field of agassiz's observations; the junction of the lauteraar and finsteraar glaciers at the abschwung, the medial moraine between them, on which stood the hôtel des neufchâtelois, and the pavilion built by m. dollfuss, in which huxley and myself had found shelter two years before. bennen was evidently anxious to reach the summit, and recommended all observations to be postponed until after our success had been assured. i agreed to this, and kept close at his heels. strong as he was, he sometimes paused, laid his head upon his mattock, and panted like a chased deer. he complained of fearful thirst, and to quench it we had only my bottle of tea: this we shared loyally, my guide praising its virtues, as well he might. still the summit loomed above us; still the angry swell of the north wind, beating against the torn battlements of the mountain, made wild music. upward, however, we strained; and at last, on gaining the crest of a rock, bennen exclaimed, in a jubilant voice, "_die höchste spitze!_"--the highest point. in a moment i was at his side, and saw the summit within a few paces of us. a minute or two placed us upon the topmost-pinnacle, with the blue dome of heaven above us, and a world of mountains, clouds, and glaciers beneath. a notion is entertained by many of the guides that if you go to sleep at the summit of any of the highest mountains, you will "sleep the sleep that knows no waking." [sidenote: thermometer placed. .] bennen did not appear to entertain this superstition; and before starting in the morning, i had stipulated for ten minutes' sleep on reaching the summit, as part compensation for the loss of the night's rest. my first act, after casting a glance over the glorious scene beneath us, was to take advantage of this agreement; so i lay down and had five minutes' sleep, from which i rose refreshed and brisk. the sun at first beat down upon us with intense force, and i exposed my thermometers; but thin veils of vapour soon drew themselves before the sun, and denser mists spread over the valley of the rhone, thus destroying all possibility of concert between ramsay and myself. i turned therefore to my boiling-water apparatus, filled it with snow, melted the first charge, put more in, and boiled it; ascertaining the boiling point to be ° fahrenheit. on a sheltered ledge, about two or three yards south of the highest point, i placed a minimum-thermometer, in the hope that it would enable us in future years to record the lowest winter temperatures at the summit of the mountain.[a] [sidenote: scene from the summit. .] it is difficult to convey any just impression of the scene from the summit of the finsteraarhorn: one might, it is true, arrange the visible mountains in a list, stating their heights and distances, and leaving the imagination to furnish them with peaks and pinnacles, to build the precipices, polish the snow, rend the glaciers, and cap the highest summits with appropriate clouds. but if imagination did its best in this way, it would hardly exceed the reality, and would certainly omit many details which contribute to the grandeur of the scene itself. the various shapes of the mountains, some grand, some beautiful, bathed in yellow sunshine, or lying black and riven under the frown of impervious cumuli; the pure white peaks, cornices, bosses, and amphitheatres; the blue ice rifts, the stratified snow-precipices, the glaciers issuing from the hollows of the eternal hills, and stretching like frozen serpents through the sinuous valleys; the lower cloud field--itself an empire of vaporous hills--shining with dazzling whiteness, while here and there grim summits, brown by nature, and black by contrast, pierce through it like volcanic islands through a shining sea,--add to this the consciousness of one's position which clings to one _unconsciously_, that undercurrent of emotion which surrounds the question of one's personal safety, at a height of more than , feet above the sea, and which is increased by the weird strange sound of the wind surging with the full deep boom of the distant sea against the precipice behind, or rising to higher cadences as it forces itself through the crannies of the weatherworn rocks,--all conspire to render the scene from the finsteraarhorn worthy of the monarch of the bernese alps. [sidenote: "have no fear." .] [sidenote: discipline. .] my guide at length warned me that we must be moving; repeating the warning more impressively before i attended to it. we packed up, and as we stood beside each other ready to march he asked me whether we should tie ourselves together, at the same time expressing his belief that it was unnecessary. up to this time we had been separate, and the thought of attaching ourselves had not occurred to me till he mentioned it. i thought it, however, prudent to accept the suggestion, and so we united our destinies by a strong rope. "now," said bennen, "have no fear; no matter how you throw yourself, i will hold you." afterwards, on another perilous summit, i repeated this saying of bennen's to a strong and active guide, but his observation was that it was a hardy untruth, for that in many places bennen could not have held me. nevertheless a daring word strengthens the heart, and, though i felt no trace of that sentiment which bennen exhorted me to banish, and was determined, as far as in me lay, to give him no opportunity of trying his strength in saving me, i liked the fearless utterance of the man, and sprang cheerily after him. our descent was rapid, apparently reckless, amid loose spikes, boulders, and vertical prisms of rock, where a false step would assuredly have been attended with broken bones; but the consciousness of certainty in our movements never forsook us, and proved a source of keen enjoyment. the senses were all awake, the eye clear, the heart strong, the limbs steady, yet flexible, with power of recovery in store, and ready for instant action should the footing give way. such is the discipline which a perilous ascent imposes. [sidenote: descent by glissades. .] we finally quitted the crest of rocks, and got fairly upon the snow once more. we first went downwards at a long swinging trot. the sun having melted the crust which we were compelled to cut through in the morning, the leg at each plunge sank deeply into the snow; but this sinking was partly in the direction of the slope of the mountain, and hence assisted our progress. sometimes the crust was hard enough to enable us to glide upon it for long distances while standing erect; but the end of these _glissades_ was always a plunge and tumble in the deeper snow. once upon a steep hard slope bennen's footing gave way; he fell, and went down rapidly, pulling me after him. i fell also, but turning quickly, drove the spike of my hatchet into the ice, got good anchorage, and held both fast; my success assuring me that i had improved as a mountaineer since my ascent of mont blanc. we tumbled so often in the soft snow, and our clothes and boots were so full of it, that we thought we might as well try the sitting posture in gliding down. we did so, and descended with extraordinary velocity, being checked at intervals by a bodily immersion in the softer and deeper snow. i was usually in front of bennen, shooting down with the speed of an arrow and feeling the check of the rope when the rapidity of my motion exceeded my guide's estimate of what was safe. sometimes i was behind him, and darted at intervals with the swiftness of an avalanche right upon him; sometimes in the same transverse line with him, with the full length of the rope between us; and here i found its check unpleasant, as it tended to make me roll over. my feet were usually in the air, and it was only necessary to turn them right or left, like the helm of a boat, to change the direction of motion and avoid a difficulty, while a vigorous dig of leg and hatchet into the snow was sufficient to check the motion and bring us to rest. swiftly, yet cautiously, we glided into the region of crevasses, where we at last rose, quite wet, and resumed our walking, until we reached the point where we had left our wine in the morning, and where i squeezed the water from my wet clothes, and partially dried them in the sun. [sidenote: the viesch glacier. .] we had left some things at the cave of the faulberg, and it was bennen's first intention to return that way and take them home with him. finding, however, that we could traverse the viescher glacier almost to the Æggischhorn, i made this our highway homewards. at the place where we entered it, and for an hour or two afterwards, the glacier was cut by fissures, for the most part covered with snow. we had packed up our rope, and bennen admonished me to tread in his steps. three or four times he half disappeared in the concealed fissures, but by clutching the snow he rescued himself and went on as swiftly as before. once my leg sank, and the ring of icicles some fifty feet below told me that i was in the jaws of a crevasse; my guide turned sharply--it was the only time that i had seen concern on his countenance:-- "_gott's donner! sie haben meine tritte nicht gefolgt._" "_doch!_" was my only reply, and we went on. he scarcely tried the snow that he crossed, as from its form and colour he could in most cases judge of its condition. for a long time we kept at the left-hand side of the glacier, avoiding the fissures which were now permanently open. we came upon the tracks of a herd of chamois, which had clambered from the glacier up the sides of the oberaarhorn, and afterwards crossed the glacier to the right-hand side, my guide being perfect master of the ground. his eyes went in advance of his steps, and his judgment was formed before his legs moved. the glacier was deeply fissured, but there was no swerving, no retreating, no turning back to seek more practicable routes; each stride told, and every stroke of the axe was a profitable investment of labour. we left the glacier for a time, and proceeded along the mountain side, till we came near the end of the trift glacier, where we let ourselves down an awkward face of rock along the track of a little cascade, and came upon the glacier once more. here again i had occasion to admire the knowledge and promptness of my guide. the glacier, as is well known, is greatly dislocated, and has once or twice proved a prison to guides and travellers, but bennen led me through the confusion without a pause. we were sometimes in the middle of the glacier, sometimes on the moraine, and sometimes on the side of the flanking mountain. towards the end of the day we crossed what seemed to be the consolidated remains of a great avalanche; on this my foot slipped, there was a crevasse at hand, and a sudden effort was necessary to save me from falling into it. in making this effort the spike of my axe turned uppermost, and the palm of my hand came down upon it, thus receiving a very ugly wound. we were soon upon the green alp, having bidden a last farewell to the ice. another hour's hard walking brought us to our hotel. no one seeing us crossing the alp would have supposed that we had laid such a day's work behind us; the proximity of home gave vigour to our strides, and our progress was much more speedy than it had been on starting in the morning. i was affectionately welcomed by ramsay, had a warm bath, dined, went to bed, where i lay fast locked in sleep for eight hours, and rose next morning as fresh and vigorous as if i had never scaled the finsteraarhorn. footnotes: [a] the following note describes the single observation made with this thermometer. mr. b. informs me that on finding the instrument bennen swung it in triumph round his head. i fear, therefore, that the observation gives us no certain information regarding the minimum winter-temperature. "st. nicholas, , aug. . "sir,--on tuesday last (the rd inst.) a party, consisting of messrs. b., h., r. l., and myself, succeeded in reaching the summit of the finsteraarhorn under the guidance of bennen and melchior anderegg. we made it an especial object to observe and reset the minimum-thermometer which you left there last year. on reaching the summit, before i had time to stop him, bennen produced the instrument, and it is just possible that in moving it he may have altered the position of the index. however, as he held the instrument horizontally, and did not, as far as i saw, give it any sensible jerk, i have great confidence that the index remained unmoved. "the reading of the index was - ° cent. "a portion of the spirit extending over about - / ° (and standing tween ° and - / °) was separated from the rest, but there appeared to be no data for determining when the separation had taken place. as it appeared desirable to unite the two portions of spirit before again setting the index to record the cold of another winter, we endeavoured to effect this by heating the bulb, but unfortunately, just as we were expecting to see them coalesce, the bulb burst, and i have now to express my great regret that my clumsiness or ignorance of the proper mode of setting the instrument in order should have interfered with the continuance of observations of so much interest. the remains of the instrument, together with a note of the accident, i have left in the charge of wellig, the landlord of the hotel on the Æggischhorn. "we reached the summit about . a.m. and remained there till noon; the reading of a pocket thermometer in the shade was ° f. "should there be any further details connected with our ascent on which you would like to have information, i shall be happy to supply them to the best of my recollection. meanwhile, with a farther apology for my clumsiness, i beg to subscribe myself yours respectfully, "h." "professor tyndall." ( .) [sidenote: a rotating iceberg. .] on the th of august there was a long fight between mist and sunshine, each triumphing by turns, till at length the orb gained the victory and cleansed the mountains from every trace of fog. we descended to the märjelen see, and, wishing to try the floating power of its icebergs, at a place where masses sufficiently large approached near to the shore, i put aside a portion of my clothes, and retaining my boots stepped upon the floating ice. it bore me for a time, and i hoped eventually to be able to paddle myself over the water. on swerving a little, however, from the position in which i first stood, the mass turned over and let me into the lake. i tried a second one, which served me in the same manner; the water was too cold to continue the attempt, and there was also some risk of being unpleasantly ground between the opposing surfaces of the masses of ice. a very large iceberg which had been detached some short time previously from the glacier lay floating at some distance from us. suddenly a sound like that of a waterfall drew our attention towards it. we saw it roll over with the utmost deliberation, while the water which it carried along with it rushed in cataracts down its sides. its previous surface was white, its present one was of a lovely blue, the submerged crystal having now come to the air. the summerset of this iceberg produced a commotion all over the lake; the floating masses at its edge clashed together, and a mellow glucking sound, due to the lapping of the undulations against the frozen masses, continued long afterwards. we subsequently spent several hours upon the glacier; and on this day i noticed for the first time a contemporaneous exhibition of _bedding_ and _structure_ to which i shall refer at another place. we passed finally to the left bank of the glacier, at some distance below the base of the Æggischhorn, and traced its old moraines at intervals along the flanks of the bounding mountain. at the summit of the ridge we found several fine old _roches moutonnées_, on some of which the scratchings of a glacier long departed were well preserved; and from the direction of the scratchings it might be inferred that the ice moved down the mountain towards the valley of the rhone. a plunge into a lonely mountain lake ended the day's excursion. [sidenote: end of the aletsch glacier. .] on the th of august we quitted this noble station. sending our guide on to viesch to take a conveyance and proceed with our luggage down the valley, ramsay and myself crossed the mountains obliquely, desiring to trace the glacier to its termination. we had no path, but it was hardly possible to go astray. we crossed spurs, climbed and descended pleasant mounds, sometimes with the soft grass under our feet, and sometimes knee-deep in rhododendrons. it took us several hours to reach the end of the glacier, and we then looked down upon it merely. it lay couched like a reptile in a wild gorge, as if it had split the mountain by its frozen snout. we afterwards descended to mörill, where we met our guide and driver; thence down the valley to visp; and the following evening saw us lodged at the monte rosa hotel in zermatt. the boiling point of water on the table of the _salle à manger_, i found to be . ° fahr. [sidenote: meadows invaded by ice. .] on the following morning i proceeded without my friend to the görner glacier. as is well known, the end of this glacier has been steadily advancing for several years, and when i saw it, the meadow in front of it was partly shrivelled up by its irresistible advance. i was informed by my host that within the last sixty years forty-four chalets had been overturned by the glacier, the ground on which they stood being occupied by the ice; at present there are others for which a similar fate seems imminent. in thus advancing the glacier merely takes up ground which belonged to it in former ages, for the rounded rocks which rise out of the adjacent meadow show that it once passed over them. i had arranged to meet ramsay this morning on the road to the riffelberg. the meeting took place, but i then learned that a minute or two after my departure he had received intelligence of the death of a near relative. thus was our joint expedition terminated, for he resolved to return at once to england. at my solicitation he accompanied me to the riffel hotel. we had planned an ascent of monte rosa together, but the arrangement thus broke down, and i was consequently thrown upon my own resources. lauener had never made the ascent, but he nevertheless felt confident that we should accomplish it together. first ascent of monte rosa, . ( .) [sidenote: the riffelberg. .] [sidenote: sounds on the glacier. .] on monday, the th of august, we reached the riffel, and, by good fortune, on the evening of the same day, my guide's brother, the well-known ulrich lauener, also arrived at the hotel on his return from monte rosa. from him we obtained all the information possible respecting the ascent, and he kindly agreed to accompany us a little way the next morning, to put us on the right track. at three a.m. the door of my bedroom opened, and christian lauener announced to me that the weather was sufficiently good to justify an attempt. the stars were shining overhead; but ulrich afterwards drew our attention to some heavy clouds which clung to the mountains on the other side of the valley of the visp; remarking that the weather _might_ continue fair throughout the day, but that these clouds were ominous. at four o'clock we were on our way, by which time a gray stratus cloud had drawn itself across the neck of the matterhorn, and soon afterwards another of the same nature encircled his waist. we proceeded past the riffelhorn to the ridge above the görner glacier, from which monte rosa was visible from top to bottom, and where an animated conversation in swiss patois commenced. ulrich described the slopes, passes, and precipices, which were to guide us; and christian demanded explanations, until he was finally able to declare to me that his knowledge was sufficient. we then bade ulrich good-bye, and went forward. all was clear about monte rosa, and the yellow morning light shone brightly upon its uppermost snows. beside the queen of the alps was the huge mass of the lyskamm, with a saddle stretching from the one to the other; next to the lyskamm came two white rounded mounds, smooth and pure, the twins castor and pollux, and further to the right again the broad brown flank of the breithorn. behind us mont cervin gathered the clouds more thickly round him, until finally his grand obelisk was totally hidden. we went along the mountain-side for a time, and then descended to the glacier. the surface was hard frozen, and the ice crunched loudly under our feet. there was a hollowness and volume in the sound which require explanation; and this, i think, is furnished by the remarks of sir john herschel on those hollow sounds at the solfaterra, near naples, from which travellers have inferred the existence of cavities within the mountain. at the place where these sounds are heard the earth is friable, and, when struck, the concussion is reinforced and lengthened by the partial echoes from the surfaces of the fragments. the conditions for a similar effect exist upon the glacier, for the ice is disintegrated to a certain depth, and from the innumerable places of rupture little reverberations are sent, which give a length and hollowness to the sound produced by the crushing of the fragments on the surface. we looked to the sky at intervals, and once a meteor slid across it, leaving a train of sparks behind. the blue firmament, from which the stars shone down so brightly when we rose, was more and more invaded by clouds, which advanced upon us from our rear, while before us the solemn heights of monte rosa were bathed in rich yellow sunlight. as the day advanced the radiance crept down towards the valleys; but still those stealthy clouds advanced like a besieging army, taking deliberate possession of the summits, one after the other, while gray skirmishers moved through the air above us. the play of light and shadow upon monte rosa was at times beautiful, bars of gloom and zones of glory shifting and alternating from top to bottom of the mountain. [sidenote: advance of the clouds. .] at five o'clock a gray cloud alighted on the shoulder of the lyskamm, which had hitherto been warmed by the lovely yellow light. soon afterwards we reached the foot of monte rosa, and passed from the glacier to a slope of rocks, whose rounded forms and furrowed surfaces showed that the ice of former ages had moved over them; the granite was now coated with lichens, and between the bosses where mould could rest were patches of tender moss. as we ascended, a peal to the right announced the descent of an avalanche from the twins; it came heralded by clouds of ice-dust, which resembled the sphered masses of condensed vapour which issue from a locomotive. a gentle snow-slope brought us to the base of a precipice of brown rocks, round which we wound; the snow was in excellent order, and the chasms were so firmly bridged by the frozen mass that no caution was necessary in crossing them. surmounting a weathered cliff to our left, we paused upon the summit to look upon the scene around us. the snow gliding insensibly from the mountains, or discharged in avalanches from the precipices which it overhung, filled the higher valleys with pure white glaciers, which were rifted and broken here and there, exposing chasms and precipices from which gleamed the delicate blue of the half-formed ice. sometimes, however, the _névés_ spread over wide spaces without a rupture or wrinkle to break the smoothness of the superficial snow. the sky was now for the most part overcast, but through the residual blue spaces the sun at intervals poured light over the rounded bosses of the mountain. [sidenote: monte rosa capped. .] at half-past seven o'clock we reached another precipice of rock, to the left of which our route lay, and here lauener proposed to have some refreshment; after which we went on again. the clouds spread more and more, leaving at length mere specks and patches of blue between them. passing some high peaks, formed by the dislocation of the ice, we came to a place where the _névé_ was rent by crevasses, on the walls of which the stratification due to successive snow-falls was shown with great beauty and definition. between two of these fissures our way now lay: the wall of one of them was hollowed out longitudinally midway down, thus forming a roof above and a ledge below, and from roof to ledge stretched a railing of cylindrical icicles, as if intended to bolt them together. a cloud now for the first time touched the summit of monte rosa, and sought to cling to it, but in a minute it dispersed in shattered fragments, as if dashed to pieces for its presumption. the mountain remained for a time clear and triumphant, but the triumph was short-lived: like suitors that will not be repelled, the dusky vapours came; repulse after repulse took place, and the sunlight gushed down upon the heights, but it was manifest that the clouds gained ground in the conflict. until about a quarter past nine o'clock our work was mere child's play, a pleasant morning stroll along the flanks of the mountain; but steeper slopes now rose above us, which called for more energy, and more care in the fixing of the feet. looked at from below, some of these slopes appeared precipitous; but we were too well acquainted with the effect of fore-shortening to let this daunt us. at each step we dug our bâtons into the deep snow. when first driven in, the bâtons[a] _dipped_ from us, but were brought, as we walked forward, to the vertical, and finally beyond it at the other side. the snow was thus forced aside, a rubbing of the staff against it, and of the snow-particles against each other, being the consequence. we had thus perpetual rupture and regelation; while the little sounds consequent upon rupture, reinforced by the partial echoes from the surfaces of the granules, were blended together to a note resembling the lowing of cows. hitherto i had paused at intervals to make notes, or to take an angle; but these operations now ceased, not from want of time, but from pure dislike; for when the eye has to act the part of a sentinel who feels that at any moment the enemy may be upon him; when the body must be balanced with precision, and legs and arms, besides performing actual labour, must be kept in readiness for possible contingencies; above all, when you feel that your safety depends upon yourself alone, and that, if your footing gives way, there is no strong arm behind ready to be thrown between you and destruction; under such circumstances the relish for writing ceases, and you are willing to hand over your impressions to the safe keeping of memory. [sidenote: the "comb" of the mountain. .] [sidenote: ascent along a cornice. .] from the vast boss which constitutes the lower portion of monte rosa cliffy edges run upwards to the summit. were the snow removed from these we should, i doubt not, see them as toothed or serrated crags, justifying the term "_kamm_," or "comb," applied to such edges by the germans. our way now lay along such a kamm, the cliffs of which had, however, caught the snow, and been completely covered by it, forming an edge like the ridge of a house-roof, which sloped steeply upwards. on the lyskamm side of the edge there was no footing, and, if a human body fell over here, it would probably pass through a vertical space of some thousands of feet, falling or rolling, before coming to rest. on the other side the snow-slope was less steep, but excessively perilous-looking, and intersected by precipices of ice. dense clouds now enveloped us, and made our position far uglier than if it had been fairly illuminated. the valley below us was one vast cauldron, filled with precipitated vapour, which came seething at times up the sides of the mountain. sometimes this fog would partially clear away, and the light would gleam upwards from the dislocated glaciers. my guide continually admonished me to make my footing sure, and to fix at each step my staff firmly in the consolidated snow. at one place, for a short steep ascent, the slope became hard ice, and our position a very ticklish one. we hewed our steps as we moved upwards, but were soon glad to deviate from the ice to a position scarcely less awkward. the wind had so acted upon the snow as to fold it over the edge of the kamm, thus causing it to form a kind of cornice, which overhung the precipice on the lyskamm side of the mountain. this cornice now bore our weight: its snow had become somewhat firm, but it was yielding enough to permit the feet to sink in it a little way, and thus secure us at least against the danger of slipping. here also at each step we drove our bâtons firmly into the snow, availing ourselves of whatever help they could render. once, while thus securing my anchorage, the handle of my hatchet went right through the cornice on which we stood, and, on withdrawing it, i could see through the aperture into the cloud-crammed gulf below. we continued ascending until we reached a rock protruding from the snow, and here we halted for a few minutes. lauener looked upwards through the fog. "according to all description," he observed, "this ought to be the last kamm of the mountain; but in this obscurity we can see nothing." snow began to fall, and we recommenced our journey, quitting the rocks and climbing again along the edge. another hour brought us to a crest of cliffs, at which, to our comfort, the kamm appeared to cease, and other climbing qualities were demanded of us. [sidenote: "die hÖchste spitze." .] on the lyskamm side, as i have said, rescue would be out of the question, should the climber go over the edge. on the other side of the edge rescue seemed possible, though the slope, as stated already, was most dangerously steep. i now asked lauener what he would have done, supposing my footing to have failed on the latter slope. he did not seem to like the question, but said that he should have considered well for a moment and then have sprung after me; but he exhorted me to drive all such thoughts away. i laughed at him, and this did more to set his mind at rest than any formal profession of courage could have done. we were now among rocks: we climbed cliffs and descended them, and advanced sometimes with our feet on narrow ledges, holding tightly on to other ledges by our fingers; sometimes, cautiously balanced, we moved along edges of rock with precipices on both sides. once, in getting round a crag, lauener shook a book from his pocket; it was arrested by a rock about sixty or eighty feet below us. he wished to regain it, but i offered to supply its place, if he thought the descent too dangerous. he said he would make the trial, and parted from me. i thought it useless to remain idle. a cleft was before me, through which i must pass; so, pressing my knees and back against its opposite sides, i gradually worked myself to the top. i descended the other face of the rock, and then, through a second ragged fissure, to the summit of another pinnacle. the highest point of the mountain was now at hand, separated from me merely by a short saddle, carved by weathering out of the crest of the mountain. i could hear lauener clattering after me, through the rocks behind. i dropped down upon the saddle, crossed it, climbed the opposite cliff, and "_die höchste spitze_" of monte rosa was won. [sidenote: gloom on the summit. .] lauener joined me immediately, and we mutually congratulated each other on the success of the ascent. the residue of the bread and meat was produced, and a bottle of tea was also appealed to. mixed with a little cognac, lauener declared that he had never tasted anything like it. snow fell thickly at intervals, and the obscurity was very great; occasionally this would lighten and permit the sun to shed a ghastly dilute light upon us through the gleaming vapour. i put my boiling-water apparatus in order, and fixed it in a corner behind a ledge; the shelter was, however, insufficient, so i placed my hat above the vessel. the boiling point was . ° fahr., the ledge on which the instrument stood being feet below the highest point of the mountain. the ascent from the riffel hotel occupied us about seven hours, nearly two of which were spent upon the kamm and crest. neither of us felt in the least degree fatigued; i, indeed, felt so fresh, that had another monte rosa been planted on the first, i should have continued the climb without hesitation, and with strong hopes of reaching the top. i experienced no trace of mountain sickness, lassitude, shortness of breath, heart-beat, or headache; nevertheless the summit of monte rosa is , feet high, being less than feet lower than mont blanc. it is, i think, perfectly certain, that the rarefaction of the air at this height is not sufficient of itself to produce the symptoms referred to; physical exertion must be superadded. [sidenote: "frozen flowers." .] after a few fitful efforts to dispel the gloom, the sun resigned the dominion to the dense fog and the descending snow, which now prevented our seeing more than or paces in any direction. the temperature of the crags at the summit, which had been shone upon by the unclouded sun during the earlier portion of the day, was ° fahr.; hence the snow melted instantly wherever it came in contact with the rock. but some of it fell upon my felt hat, which had been placed to shelter the boiling-water apparatus, and this presented the most remarkable and beautiful appearance. the fall of snow was in fact a shower of frozen flowers. all of them were six-leaved; some of the leaves threw out lateral ribs like ferns, some were rounded, others arrowy and serrated, some were close, others reticulated, but there was no deviation from the six-leaved type. nature seemed determined to make us some compensation for the loss of all prospect, and thus showered down upon us those lovely blossoms of the frost; and had a spirit of the mountain inquired my choice, the view, or the frozen flowers, i should have hesitated before giving up that exquisite vegetation. it was wonderful to think of, as well as beautiful to behold. let us imagine the eye gifted with a microscopic power sufficient to enable it to see the molecules which composed these starry crystals; to observe the solid nucleus formed and floating in the air; to see it drawing towards it its allied atoms, and these arranging themselves as if they moved to music, and ended by rendering that music concrete. surely such an exhibition of power, such an apparent demonstration of a resident intelligence in what we are accustomed to call "brute matter," would appear perfectly miraculous. and yet the reality would, if we could see it, transcend the fancy. if the houses of parliament were built up by the forces resident in their own bricks and lithologic blocks, and without the aid of hodman or mason, there would be nothing intrinsically more wonderful in the process than in the molecular architecture which delighted us upon the summit of monte rosa. [sidenote: startling avalanche. .] twice or thrice had my guide warned me that we must think of descending, for the snow continued to fall heavily, and the loss of our track would be attended with imminent peril. we therefore packed up, and clambered downward among the crags of the summit. we soon left these behind us, and as we stood once more upon the kamm, looking into the gloom beneath, an avalanche let loose from the side of an adjacent mountain shook the air with its thunder. we could not see it, could form no estimate of its distance, could only hear its roar, which coming to us through the darkness, had an undefinable element of horror in it. lauener remarked, "i never hear those things without a shudder; the memory of my brother comes back to me at the same time." his brother, who was the best climber in the oberland, had been literally broken to fragments by an avalanche on the slopes of the jungfrau. we had been separate coming up, each having trusted to himself, but the descent was more perilous, because it is more difficult to fix the heel of the boot than the toe securely in the ice. lauener was furnished with a rope, which he now tied round my waist, and forming a noose at the other end, he slipped it over his arm. this to me was a new mode of attachment. hitherto my guides in dangerous places had tied the ropes round _their_ waists also. simond had done it on mont blanc, and bennen on the finsteraarhorn, proving thus their willingness to share my fate whatever that might be. but here lauener had the power of sending me adrift at any moment, should his own life be imperilled. i told him that his mode of attachment was new to me, but he assured me that it would give him more power in case of accident. i did not see this at the time; but neither did i insist on his attaching himself in the usual way. it could neither be called anger nor pride, but a warm flush ran through me as i remarked, that i should take good care not to test his power of holding me. i believe i wronged my guide by the supposition that he made the arrangement with reference to his own safety, for all i saw of him afterwards proved that he would at any time have risked his life to save mine. the flush however did me good, by displacing every trace of anxiety, and the rope, i confess, was also a source of some comfort to me. we descended the kamm, i going first. "secure your footing before you move," was my guide's constant exhortation, "and make your staff firm at each step." we were sometimes quite close upon the rim of the kamm on the lyskamm side, and we also followed the depressions which marked our track along the cornice. this i now tried intentionally, and drove the handle of my axe through it once or twice. at two places in descending we were upon the solid ice, and these were some of the steepest portions of the kamm. they were undoubtedly perilous, and the utmost caution was necessary in fixing the staff and securing the footing. these however once past, we felt that the chief danger was over. we reached the termination of the edge, and although the snow continued to fall heavily, and obscure everything, we knew that our progress afterwards was secure. there was pleasure in this feeling; it was an agreeable variation of that grim mental tension to which i had been previously wound up, but which in itself was by no means disagreeable. [sidenote: splendid blue of the snow. .] [sidenote: stifling heat. .] i have already noticed the colour of the fresh snow upon the summit of the stelvio pass. since i observed it there it has been my custom to pay some attention to this point at all great elevations. this morning, as i ascended monte rosa, i often examined the holes made in the snow by our bâtons, but the light which issued from them was scarcely perceptibly blue. now, however, a deep layer of fresh snow overspread the mountain, and the effect was magnificent. along the kamm i was continually surprised and delighted by the blue gleams which issued from the broken or perforated stratum of new snow; each hole made by the staff was filled with a light as pure, and nearly as deep, as that of the unclouded firmament. when we reached the bottom of the kamm, lauener came to the front, and tramped before me. as his feet rose out of the snow, and shook the latter off in fragments, sudden and wonderful gleams of blue light flashed from them. doubtless the blue of the sky has much to do with mountain colouring, but in the present instance not only was there no blue sky, but the air was so thick with fog and descending snow-flakes, that we could not see twenty yards in advance of us. a thick fog, which wrapped the mountain quite closely, now added its gloom to the obscurity caused by the falling snow. before we reached the base of the mountain the fog became thin, and the sun shone through it. there was not a breath of air stirring, and, though we stood ankle-deep in snow, the heat surpassed anything of the kind i had ever felt: it was the dead suffocating warmth of the interior of an oven, which encompassed us on all sides, and from which there seemed no escape. our own motion through the air, however, cooled us considerably. we found the snow-bridges softer than in the morning, and consequently needing more caution; but we encountered no real difficulty among them. indeed it is amusing to observe the indifference with which a snow-roof is often broken through, and a traveller immersed to the waist in the jaws of a fissure. the effort at recovery is instantaneous; half instinctively hands and knees are driven into the snow, and rescue is immediate. fair glacier work was now before us; after which we reached the opposite mountain-slope, which we ascended, and then went down the flank of the riffelberg to our hotel. the excursion occupied us eleven and a half hours. footnotes: [a] my staff was always the handle of an axe an inch or two longer than an ordinary walking-stick. ( .) on the afternoon of the th i made an attempt alone to ascend the riffelhorn, and attained a considerable height; but i attacked it from the wrong side, and the fading light forced me to retreat. i found some agreeable people at the hotel on my return. one clergyman especially, with a clear complexion, good digestion, and bad lungs--of free, hearty, and genial manner--made himself extremely pleasant to us all. he appeared to bubble over with enjoyment, and with him and others on the morning of the th i walked to the görner grat, as it lay on the way to my work. we had a glorious prospect from the summit: indeed the assemblage of mountains, snow, and ice, here within view is perhaps without a rival in the world.[a] i shouldered my axe, and saying "good-bye" moved away from my companions. "are you going?" exclaimed the clergyman. "give me one grasp of your hand before we part." this was the signal for a grasp all round; and the hearty human kindness which thus showed itself contributed that day to make my work pleasant to me. [sidenote: a difficult descent. .] we proceeded along the ridge of the rothe kumme to a point which commanded a fine view of the glacier. the ice had been over these heights in ages past, for, although lichens covered the surfaces of the old rocks, they did not disguise the grooves and scratchings. the surface of the glacier was now about a thousand feet below us, and this it was our desire to attain. to reach it we had to descend a succession of precipices, which in general were weathered and rugged, but here and there, where the rock was durable, were fluted and grooved. once or twice indeed we had nothing to cling to but the little ridges thus formed. we had to squeeze ourselves through narrow fissures, and often to get round overhanging ledges, where our main trust was in our feet, but where these had only ledges an inch or so in width to rest upon. these cases were to me the most unpleasant of all, for they compelled the arms to take a position which, if the footing gave way, would necessitate a _wrench_, for which i entertain considerable abhorrence. we came at length to a gorge by which the mountain is rent from top to bottom, and into which we endeavoured to descend. we worked along its rim for a time, but found its smooth faces too deep. we retreated; lauener struck into another track, and while he tested it i sat down near some grass tufts, which flourished on one of the ledges, and found the temperature to be as follows:-- temperature of rock ° c. of air an inch above the rock of air a foot from rock of grass the first of these numbers does not fairly represent the temperature of the rock, as the thermometer could be in contact with it only at one side at a time. it was differences such as these between grass and stone, producing a mixed atmosphere of different densities, that weakened the sound of the falls of the orinoco, as observed and explained by humboldt. [sidenote: singular ice-cave. .] by a process of "trial and error" we at length reached the ice, after two hours had been spent in the effort to disentangle ourselves from the crags. the glacier is forcibly thrust at this place against the projecting base of the mountain, and the structure of the ice correspondingly developed. crevasses also intersect the ice, and the blue veins cross them at right angles. i ascended the glacier to a region where the ice was compressed and greatly contorted, and thought that in some cases i could see the veins crossing the lines of stratification. once my guide drew my attention to what he called "_ein sonderbares loch_." on one of the slopes an archway was formed which appeared to lead into the body of the glacier. we entered it, and explored the cavern to its end. the walls were of transparent blue ice, singularly free from air-bubbles; but where the roof of the cavern was thin enough to allow the sun to shine feebly through it, the transmitted light was of a pink colour. my guide expressed himself surprised at "_den röthlichen schein_." at one place a plate of ice had been placed like a ceiling across the cavern; but owing to lateral squeezing it had been broken so as to form a v. i found some air-bubbles in this ice, and in all cases they were associated with blebs of water. a portion of the "ceiling," indeed, was very full of bubbles, and was at some places reduced, by internal liquefaction, to a mere skeleton of ice, with water-cells between its walls. [sidenote: structure and strata. .] high up the glacier (towards the old weissthor) the horizontal stratification is everywhere beautifully shown. i drew my guide's attention to it, and he made the remark that the perfection of the lower ice was due to the pressure of the layers above it. "the snow by degrees compressed itself to glacier." as we approached one of the tributaries on the monte rosa side, where great pressure came into play, the stratification appeared to yield and the true structure to cross it at those places where it had yielded most. as the place of greatest pressure was approached, the bedding disappeared more and more, and a clear vertical structure was finally revealed. footnotes: [a] in mr. e. w. cooke made a pencil-sketch of this splendid panorama, which is the best and truest that i have yet seen. the gÖrner grat and the riffelhorn. magnetic phenomena. ( .) at an early hour on saturday, the th of august, i heard the servant exclaim, "_das wetter ist wunderschön!_" which good news caused me to spring from my bed and prepare to meet the morn. the range of summits at the opposite side of the valley of st. nicholas was at first quite clear, but as the sun ascended light cumuli formed round them, increasing in density up to a certain point; below these clouds the air of the valley was transparent; above them the air of heaven was still more so; and thus they swung midway between heaven and earth, ranging themselves in a level line along the necks of the mountains. [sidenote: generation of clouds. .] it might be supposed that the presence of the sun heating the air would tend to keep it more transparent, by increasing its capacity to dissolve all visible cloud; and this indeed is the true action of the sun. but it is not the only action. his rays, as he climbed the eastern heaven, shot more and more deeply into the valley of st. nicholas, the moisture of which rose as invisible vapour, remaining unseen as long as the air possessed sufficient warmth to keep it in the vaporous state. high up, however, the cold crags which had lost their heat by radiation the night before, acted like condensers upon the ascending vapour, and caused it to curdle into visible fog. the current, however, continued ascensional, and the clouds were slowly lifted above the tallest peaks, where they arranged themselves in fantastic forms, shifting and changing shape as they gradually melted away. one peak stood like a field-officer with his cap raised above his head, others sent straggling cloud-balloons upwards; but on watching these outliers they were gradually seen to disappear. at first they shone like snow in the sunlight, but as they became more attenuated they changed colour, passing through a dull red to a dusky purple hue, until finally they left no trace of their existence. [sidenote: the rocks warmed. .] [sidenote: scene from the gÖrner grat. .] as the day advanced, warming the rocks, the clouds wholly disappeared, and a hyaline air formed the setting of both glaciers and mountains. i climbed to the görner grat to obtain a general view of the surrounding scene. looking towards the origin of the görner glacier the view was bounded by a wide col, upon which stood two lovely rounded eminences enamelled with snow of perfect purity. they shone like burnished silver in the sunlight, as if their surfaces had been melted and recongealed to frosted mirrors from which the rays were flung. to the right of these were the bounding crags of monte rosa, and then the body of the mountain itself, with its crest of crag and coat of snows. to the right of monte rosa, and almost rivalling it in height, was the vast mass of the lyskamm, a rough and craggy mountain, to whose ledges clings the snow which cannot grasp its steeper walls, sometimes leaning over them in impending precipices, which often break, and send wild avalanches into the space below. between the lyskamm and monte rosa lies a large wide valley into which both mountains pour their snows, forming there the western glacier of monte rosa[a]--a noble ice stream, which from its magnitude and permanence deserves to impose its name upon the trunk glacier. it extends downwards from the col which unites the two mountains; riven and broken at some places, but at others stretching white and pure down to its snow-line, where the true glacier emerges from the _névé_. from the rounded shoulders of the twin castor a glacier descends, at first white and shining, then suddenly broken into faults, fissures, and precipices, which are afterwards repaired, and the glacier joins that of monte rosa before the junction of the latter with the trunk stream. next came a boss of rock, with a secondary glacier clinging to it as if plastered over it, and after it the schwarze glacier, bounded on one side by the breithorn, and on the other by the twin pollux. this glacier is of considerable magnitude. over its upper portion rise the twin eminences, pure and white; then follows a smooth and undulating space, after passing which the _névé_ is torn up into a collection of peaks and chasms; these, however, are mended lower down, and the glacier moves smoothly and calmly to meet its brothers in the main valley. next comes the trifti glacier,[b] embraced on all sides by the rocky arms of the breithorn; its mass is not very great, but it descends in a graceful sweep, and exhibits towards its extremity a succession of beautiful bands. afterwards we have the glacier of the petit mont cervin and those of st. théodule, which latter are the last that empty their frozen cargoes into the valley of the görner. all the glaciers here mentioned are welded together to a common trunk which squeezes itself through the narrow defile at the base of the riffelhorn. soon afterwards the moraines become confused, the glacier drops steeply to its termination, and ploughs up the meadows in front of it with its irresistible share. in a line with the riffelhorn, and rising over the latter so high as to make it almost vanish by comparison, was the titan obelisk of the matterhorn, from the base of which the furgge glacier struggles downwards. on the other side are the zmutt glacier, the schönbühl, and the hochwang, from the dent blanche; the gabelhorn and trift glaciers, from the summits which bear those names. then come the glaciers of the weisshorn. describing a curve still farther to the right we alight on the peaks of the mischabel, dark and craggy precipices from this side, though from the Æggischhorn they appear as cones of snow. sweeping by the alphubel, the allaleinhorn, the rympfischorn, and strahlhorn--all of them majestic--we reach the pass of the weissthor, and the cima di jazzi. this completes the glorious circuit within the observer's view. [sidenote: compass at fault. .] i placed my compass upon a piece of rock to find the bearing of the görner glacier, and was startled at seeing the sun and it at direct variance. what the sun declared to be north, the needle affirmed to be south. i at first supposed that the maker had placed the s where the n ought to be, and _vice versâ_. on shifting my position, however, the needle shifted also, and i saw immediately that the effect was due to the rock of the grat. sometimes one end of the needle _dipped_ forcibly, at other places it whirled suddenly round, indicating an entire change of polarity. the rock was evidently to be regarded as an assemblage of magnets, or as a single magnet full of "consequent points." a distance of transport not exceeding an inch was, in some cases, sufficient to reverse the position of the needle. i held the needle between the two sides of a long fissure a foot wide. the needle set _along_ the fissure at some places, while at others it set _across_ it. sometimes a little jutting knob would attract the north end of the needle, while a closely adjacent little knob would forcibly repel it, and attract the south end. one extremity of a ledge three feet long was north magnetic, the other end was south magnetic, while a neutral point existed midway between the two, the ledge having therefore the exact polar arrangement of an ordinary bar-magnet. at the highest point of the rock the action appeared to be most intense, but i also found an energetic polarity in a mass at some distance below the summit. [sidenote: magnetism of rocks. .] remembering that professor forbes had noticed some peculiar magnetic effect upon the riffelhorn, i resolved to ascend it. descending from the grat we mounted the rocks which form the base of the horn; these are soft and soapy from the quantity of mica which they contain; the higher rocks of the horn are, however, very dense and hard. the ascent is a pleasant bit of mountain practice. we climbed the walls of rock, and wound round the ledges, seeking the assailable points. i tried the magnetic condition of the rocks as we ascended, and found it in general feeble. in other respects the riffelhorn is a most remarkable mass. the ice of the görner glacier of former ages, which rose hundreds, perhaps thousands of feet above its present level, encountered the horn in its descent, and was split by the latter, a diversion of the ice along the sides of the peak being the consequence. portions of the vertical walls of the horn are polished by this action as if they had come from the hands of a lapidary, and the scratchings are as sharp and definite as if drawn by points of steel. i never saw scratchings so perfectly preserved: the finest lines are as clear as the deepest, a consequence of the great density and durability of the rock. the latter evidently contains a good deal of iron, and its surface near the summit is of the rich brown red due to the peroxide of the metal. when we fairly got among the precipices we left our hatchets behind us, trusting subsequently to our hands and feet alone. squeezing, creeping, clinging, and climbing, in due time we found ourselves upon the summit of the horn. [sidenote: ascent of the riffelhorn. .] a pile of stones had been erected near the point where we gained the top. i examined the stones of this pile, and found them strongly polar. the surrounding rocks also showed a violent action, the needle oscillating quickly, and sometimes twirling swiftly round upon a slight change of position. the fragments of rock scattered about were also polar. long ledges showed north magnetism for a considerable length, and again for an equal length south magnetism. two parallel masses separated from each other by a fissure, showed the same magnetic distribution. while i was engaged at one end of the horn, lauener wandered to the other, on which stood two or three _hommes de pierres_. he was about disturbing some of the stones, when a yell from me surprised him. in fact, the thought had occurred to me that the magnetism of the horn had been developed by lightning striking upon it, and my desire was to examine those points which were most exposed to the discharge of the atmospheric electricity; hence my shout to my guide to let the stones alone. i worked towards the other end of the horn, examining the rocks in my way. two weathered prominences, which seemed very likely recipients of the lightning, acted violently upon the needle. i sometimes descended a little way, and found that among the rocks below the summit the action was greatly enfeebled. on reaching another very prominent point, i found its extremity all north polar, but at a little distance was a cluster of consequent points, among which the transport of a few inches was sufficient to turn the needle round and round. [sidenote: magnetism of the horn. .] the piles of stone at the zermatt end of the horn did not seem so strongly polar as the pile at the other end, which was higher; still a strong polar action was manifested at many points of the surrounding rocks. having completed the examination of the summit, i descended the horn, and examined its magnetic condition as i went along. it seemed to me that the jutting prominences always exhibited the strongest action. i do not indeed remember any case in which a strong action did not exhibit itself at the ends of the terraces which constitute the horn. in all cases, however, the rock acted as a number of magnets huddled confusedly together, and not as if its entire mass was endowed with magnetism of one kind. [illustration: fig. . magnetic boulder of the riffelhorn.] on the evening of the same day i examined the lower spur of the riffelhorn. amid its fissures and gullies one feels as if wandering through the ruins of a vast castle or fortification; the precipices are so like walls, and the scratching and polishing so like what might be done by the hands of man. i found evidences of strong polar action in some of the rocks low down. in the same continuous mass the action would sometimes exhibit itself over an area of small extent, while the remainder of the rock showed no appreciable action. some of the boulders cast down from the summit exhibited a strong and varied polarity. fig. is a sketch of one of these; the barbed end of each arrow represents the north end of the needle, which assumed the various positions shown in the figure. midway down the spur i lighted upon a transverse wall of rock, which formed in earlier ages the boundary of a lateral outlet of the görner glacier. it was red and hard, weathered rough at some places, and polished smooth at others. the lines were drawn finely upon it, but its outer surface appeared to be peeling off like a crust; the polished layer rested upon the rock like a kind of enamel. the action of the glacier appeared to resemble that of the break of a locomotive upon rails, both being cases of exfoliation brought about by pressure and friction. this wall measured twenty-eight yards across, and one end of it, for a distance of ten or twelve yards, was all north polar; the other end for a similar distance was south polar, but there was a pair of consequent points at its centre. [sidenote: the magnetic force. .] to meet the case of my young readers, i will here say a few words about the magnetic force. the common magnetic needle points nearly north and south; and if a bit of iron be brought near to either end of the needle, they will mutually attract each other. a piece of lead will not show this effect, nor will copper, gold, nor silver. iron, in fact, is a magnetic metal, which the others are not. it is to be particularly observed, that the bit of iron attracts _both ends_ of the needle when it is presented to them in succession; and if a common steel sewing needle be substituted for the iron it will be seen that it also has the power of attracting both ends of the magnetic needle. but if the needle be rubbed once or twice along one end of a magnet, it will be found that one of its ends will afterwards _repel_ a certain end of the magnetic needle and attract the other. by rubbing the needle on the magnet, we thus develop both attraction and repulsion, and this double action of the magnetic force is called its _polarity_; thus the steel which was at first simply _magnetic_, is now magnetic and _polar_. it is the aim of persons making magnets, that each magnet should have but _two_ poles, at its two ends; it is, however, easy to develop in the same piece of steel several pairs or poles; and if the magnetization be irregular, this is sometimes done when we wish to avoid it. these irregular poles are called _consequent points_. now i want my young reader to understand that it is not only because the rocks of the görner grat and riffelhorn contain iron, that they exhibit the action which i have described. they are not only magnetic, as common iron is, but, like the magnetized steel needle, they are magnetic and polar. and these poles are irregularly distributed like the "consequent points" to which i have referred, and this is the reason why i have used the term. [sidenote: bearings from the riffelhorn. .] professor forbes, as i have already stated, was the first to notice the effect of the riffelhorn upon the magnetic needle, but he seems to have supposed that the entire mass of the mountain exercised "a local attraction" upon the needle; (upon which end he does not say). to enable future observers to allow for this attraction, he took the bearing of several of the surrounding mountains from the riffelhorn; but it is very probable that had he changed his position a few inches, and perfectly certain had he changed it a few yards, he would have found a set of bearings totally different from those which he has recorded. the close proximity and irregular distribution of its consequent points would prevent the riffelhorn from exerting any appreciable influence on _a distant needle_, as in this case the local poles would effectually neutralize each other. footnotes: [a] now called, in the federal map, the 'grenz glacier.'--l. c. t. [b] i take this name from studer's map. sometimes, however, i have called it the "breithorn glacier." ( .) [sidenote: mont cervin as cloud-maker. .] on the morning of the th the riffelberg was swathed in a dense fog, through which heavy rain showered incessantly. towards one o'clock the continuity of the gray mass was broken, and sky-gleams of the deepest blue were seen through its apertures; these would close up again, and others open elsewhere, as if the fog were fighting for existence with the sun behind it. the sun, however, triumphed, the mountains came more and more into view, and finally the entire air was swept clear. i went up to the görner grat in the afternoon, and examined more closely the magnetism of its rocks; here, as on the riffelhorn, i found it most pronounced at the jutting prominences of the grat. can it be that the superior exposure is more favourable to the formation of the magnetic oxide of iron? i secured a number of fragments, which i still possess, and which act forcibly upon a magnetic needle. the sun was near the western horizon, and i remained alone upon the grat to see his last beams illuminate the mountains, which, with one exception, were without a trace of cloud. this exception was the matterhorn, the appearance of which was extremely instructive. the obelisk appeared to be divided in two halves by a vertical line drawn from its summit half way down, to the windward of which we had the bare cliffs of the mountain; and to the left of it a cloud which appeared to cling tenaciously to the rocks. in reality, however, there was no clinging; the condensed vapour incessantly got away, but it was ever renewed, and thus a river of cloud had been sent from the mountain over the valley of aosta. the wind in fact blew lightly up the valley of st. nicholas charged with moisture, and when the air that held it rubbed against the cold cone of the matterhorn the vapour was chilled and precipitated in his lee. the summit seemed to smoke sometimes like a burning mountain; for immediately after its generation, the fog was drawn away in long filaments by the wind. as the sun sank lower the ruddiness of his light augmented, until these filaments resembled streamers of flame. the sun sank deeper, the light was gradually withdrawn, and where it had entirely vanished it left the mountain like a desolate old man whose "hoary hair stream'd like a meteor in the troubled air." for a moment after the sun had disappeared the scene was amazingly grand. the distant west was ruddy, copious gray smoke-wreaths were wafted from the mountains, while high overhead, in an atmospheric region which seemed perfectly motionless, floated a broad thin cloud, dyed with the richest iridescences. the colours were of the same character as those which i had seen upon the aletschhorn, being due to interference, and in point of splendour and variety far exceeded anything ever produced by the mere coloured light of the setting sun. [sidenote: cells in the ice. .] on the th i was early upon the glacier. it had frozen hard during the night, and the partially liberated streams flowed, in many cases, over their own ice. i took some clear plates from under the water, and found in them numerous liquid cells, each associated with an air-bubble or a vacuous spot. the most common shape of the cells was a regular hexagon, but there were all forms between the perfect hexagon and the perfect circle. many cells had also crimped borders, intimating that their primitive form was that of a flower with six leaves. a plate taken from ice which was defended from the sunbeams by the shadow of a rock had no such cells; so that those that i observed were probably due to solar radiation. my first aim was to examine the structure of the görnerhorn glacier,[a] which descends the breast of monte rosa until it is abruptly cut off by the great western glacier of the mountain.[b] between them is a moraine which is at once terminal as regards the former, and lateral as regards the latter. the ice is veined vertically along the moraine, the direction of the structure being parallel to the latter. i ascended the glacier, and found, as i retreated from the place where the thrust was most violent, that the structure became more feeble. from the glacier i passed to the rocks called "_auf der platte_," so as to obtain a general view of its terminal portion. the gradual perfecting of the structure as the region of pressure was approached was very manifest: the ice at the end seemed to wrinkle up in obedience to the pressure, the structural furrows, from being scarcely visible, became more and more decided, and the lamination underneath correspondingly pronounced, until it finally attained a state of great perfection. [sidenote: structure of the ice. .] i now quitted the rocks and walked straight across the western glacier of monte rosa to its centre, where i found the structure scarcely visible. i next faced the görner grat, and walked down the glacier towards the moraine which divides it from the görner glacier. the mechanical conditions of the ice here are quite evident; each step brought me to a place of greater pressure, and also to a place of more highly developed structure, until finally near to the moraine itself, and running parallel to it, a magnificent lamination was developed. here the superficial groovings could be traced to great distances, and beside the moraine were boulders poised on pedestals of ice through which the blue veins ran. at some places the ice had been weathered into laminæ not more than a line in thickness. i now recrossed the monte rosa glacier to its junction with the schwartze glacier, which descends between the twins and breithorn. the structure of the monte rosa glacier is here far less pronounced than at the other side, and the pressure which it endures is also manifestly less; the structure of the schwartze glacier is fairly developed, being here parallel to its moraine. the cliffs of the breithorn are much exposed to weathering action, and boulders are copiously showered down upon the adjacent ice. between the schwartze glacier and the glacier which descends from the breast of the breithorn itself these blocks ride upon a spine of ice, and form a moraine of grand proportions. from it a fine view of the glacier is attainable, and the gradual development of its structure as the region of maximum pressure is approached is very plain. a number of gracefully curved undulations sweep across the breithorn glacier, which are squeezed more closely together as the moraine is approached. all the glaciers that descend from the flanking mountains of the görner valley are suddenly turned aside where they meet the great trunk stream, and are reduced by the pressure to narrow stripes of ice separated from each other by parallel moraines. [sidenote: tributaries explored. .] i ascended the breithorn glacier to the base of an ice-fall, on one side of which i found large crumples produced by the pressure, the veined structure being developed at right angles to the direction of the latter. no such structure was visible above this place. the crumples were cut by fissures, perpendicular to which the blue veins ran. i now quitted the glacier, and clambered up the adjacent alp, from which a fine view of the general surface was attainable. as in the case of the görnerhorn glacier, the gradual perfecting of the structure was very manifest; the dirt, which first irregularly scattered over the surface, gradually assumed a striated appearance, and became more and more decided as the moraine was approached. descending from the alp, i endeavoured to measure some of the undulations; proceeding afterwards to the junction of the breithorn glacier with that of st. théodule. the end of the latter appears to be crumpled by its thrust against the former, and the moraine between them, instead of being raised, runs along a hollow which is flanked by the crumples on either side. the breithorn glacier became more and more attenuated, until finally it actually vanished under its own moraines. on the sides of the crevasses, by which the théodule glacier is here intersected, i thought i could plainly see two systems of veins cutting each other at an angle of fifteen or twenty degrees. reaching the görner glacier, at a place where its dislocation was very great, i proceeded down it past the riffelhorn, to a point where it seemed possible to scale the opposite mountain wall. here i crossed the glacier, treading with the utmost caution along the combs of ice, and winding through the entanglement of crevasses until the spur of the riffelhorn was reached; this i climbed to its summit, and afterwards crossed the green alp to our hotel. [sidenote: temptation. .] the foregoing good day's work was rewarded by a sound sleep at night. the tourists were called in succession next morning, but after each call i instantly subsided into deep slumber, and thus healthily spaced out the interval of darkness. day at length dawned and gradually brightened. i looked at my watch and found it twenty minutes to six. my guide had been lent to a party of gentlemen who had started at three o'clock for the summit of monte rosa, and he had left with me a porter who undertook to conduct me to one of the adjacent glaciers. but as i looked from my window the unspeakable beauty of the morning filled me with a longing to see the world from the top of monte rosa. i was in exceedingly good condition--could i not reach the summit alone? trained and indurated as i had been, i felt that the thing was possible; at all events i could try, without attempting anything which was not clearly within my power. footnotes: [a] now called, in the federal map, the "monte rosa glacier." görnerhorn is an old local name for the central mass of monte rosa.--l. c. t. [b] _see_ p. , footnote. second ascent of monte rosa, . ( .) [sidenote: a light scrip. .] whether my exercise be mental or bodily, i am always most vigorous when cool. during my student life in germany, the friends who visited me always complained of the low temperature of my room, and here among the alps it was no uncommon thing for me to wander over the glaciers from morning till evening in my shirt-sleeves. my object now was to go as light as possible, and hence i left my coat and neckcloth behind me, trusting to the sun and my own motion to make good the calorific waste. after breakfast i poured what remained of my tea into a small glass bottle, an ordinary demi-bouteille, in fact; the waiter then provided me with a ham sandwich, and, with my scrip thus frugally furnished, i thought the heights of monte rosa might be won. i had neither brandy nor wine, but i knew the immense amount of mechanical force represented by four ounces of bread and ham, and i therefore feared no failure from lack of nutriment. indeed, i am inclined to think that both guides and travellers often impair their vigour and render themselves cowardly and apathetic by the incessant "refreshing" which they deem it necessary to indulge in on such occasions. [sidenote: the guide expostulates. .] [sidenote: the guide halts. .] the guide whom lauener intended for me was at the door; i passed him and desired him to follow me. this he at first refused to do, as he did not recognise me in my shirt-sleeves; but his companions set him right, and he ran after me. i transferred my scrip to his shoulders, and led the way upward. once or twice he insinuated that that was not the way to the schwarze-see, and was probably perplexed by my inattention. from the summit of the ridge which bounds the görner glacier the whole grand panorama revealed itself, and on the higher slopes of monte rosa--so high, indeed, as to put all hope of overtaking them, or even coming near them, out of the question--a row of black dots revealed the company which had started at three o'clock from the hotel. they had made remarkably good use of their time, and i was afterwards informed that the cause of this was the intense cold, which compelled them to keep up the proper supply of heat by increased exertion. i descended swiftly to the glacier, and made for the base of monte rosa, my guide following at some distance behind me. one of the streams, produced by superficial melting, had cut for itself a deep wide channel in the ice; it was not too wide for a spring, and with the aid of a run i cleared it and went on. some minutes afterwards i could hear the voice of my companion exclaiming, in a tone of expostulation, "no, no, i won't follow you there." he however made a circuit, and crossed the stream; i waited for him at the place where the monte rosa glacier joins the rock, "_auf der platte_," and helped him down the ice-slope. at the summit of these rocks i again waited for him. he approached me with some excitement of manner, and said that it now appeared plain to him that i intended to ascend monte rosa, but that he would not go with me. i asked him to accompany me to the summit of the next cliff, which he agreed to do; and i found him of some service to me. he discovered the faint traces of the party in advance, and, from his greater experience, could keep them better in view than i could. we lost them, however, near the base of the cliff at which we aimed, and i went on, choosing as nearly as i could remember the route followed by lauener and myself a week previously, while my guide took another route, seeking for the traces. the glacier here is crevassed, and i was among the fissures some distance in advance of my companion. fear was manifestly getting the better of him, and he finally stood still, exclaiming, "no man can pass there." at the same moment i discovered the trace, and drew his attention to it; he approached me submissively, said that i was quite right, and declared his willingness to go on. we climbed the cliff, and discovered the trace in the snow above it. here i transferred the scrip and telescope to my own shoulders, and gave my companion a cheque for five francs. he returned, and i went on alone. the sun and heaven were glorious, but the cold was nevertheless intense, for it had frozen bitterly the night before. the mountain seemed more noble and lovely than when i had last ascended it; and as i climbed the slopes, crossed the shining cols, and rounded the vast snow-bosses of the mountain, the sense of being alone lent a new interest to the glorious scene. i followed the track of those who preceded me, which was that pursued by lauener and myself a week previously. once i deviated from it to obtain a glimpse of italy over the saddle which stretches from monte rosa to the lyskamm. deep below me was the valley, with its huge and dislocated _névé_, and the slope on which i hung was just sufficiently steep to keep the attention aroused without creating anxiety. i prefer such a slope to one on which the thought of danger cannot be entertained. i become more weary upon a dead level, or in walking up such a valley as that which stretches between visp and zermatt, than on a steep mountain side. the sense of weariness is often no index to the expenditure of muscular force: the muscles may be charged with force, and, if the nervous excitant be feeble, the strength lies dormant, and we are tired without exertion. but the thought of peril keeps the mind awake, and spurs the muscles into action; they move with alacrity and freedom, and the time passes swiftly and pleasantly. [sidenote: left alone. .] occupied with my own thoughts as i ascended, i sometimes unconsciously went too quickly, and felt the effects of the exertion. i then slackened my pace, allowing each limb an instant of repose as i drew it out of the snow, and found that in this way walking became rest. this is an illustration of the principle which runs throughout nature--to accomplish physical changes, _time_ is necessary. different positions of the limb require different molecular arrangements; and to pass from one to the other requires time. by lifting the leg slowly and allowing it to fall forward by its own gravity, a man may get on steadily for several hours, while a very slight addition to this pace may speedily exhaust him. of course the normal pace differs in different persons, but in all the power of endurance may be vastly augmented by the prudent outlay of muscular force. the sun had long shone down upon me with intense fervour, but i now noticed a strange modification of the light upon the slopes of snow. i looked upwards, and saw a most gorgeous exhibition of interference-colours. a light veil of clouds had drawn itself between me and the sun, and this was flooded with the most brilliant dyes. orange, red, green, blue--all the hues produced by diffraction were exhibited in the utmost splendour. there seemed a tendency to form circular zones of colour round the sun, but the clouds were not sufficiently uniform to permit of this, and they were consequently broken into spaces, each steeped with the colour due to the condition of the cloud at the place. three times during my ascent similar veils drew themselves across the sun, and at each passage the splendid phenomena were renewed. as i reached the middle of the mountain an avalanche was let loose from the sides of the lyskamm; the thunder drew my eyes to the place; i saw the ice move, but it was only the tail of the avalanche; still the volume of sound told me that it was a huge one. suddenly the front of it appeared from behind a projecting rock, hurling its ice-masses with fury into the valley, and tossing its rounded clouds of ice-dust high into the atmosphere. a wild long-drawn sound, multiplied by echoes, now descended from the heights above me. it struck me at first as a note of lamentation, and i thought that possibly one of the party which was now near the summit had gone over the precipice. on listening more attentively i found that the sound shaped itself into an english "hurrah!" i was evidently nearing the party, and on looking upwards i could see them, but still at an immense height above me. the summit still rose before them, and i therefore thought the cheer premature. a precipice of ice was now in front of me, around which i wound to the right, and in a few minutes found myself fairly at the bottom of the kamm. [sidenote: giddiness on the kamm. .] [sidenote: scrip left behind. .] i paused here for a moment, and reflected on the work before me. my head was clear, my muscles in perfect condition, and i felt just sufficient fear to render me careful. i faced the kamm, and went up slowly but surely, and soon heard the cheer which announced the arrival of the party at the summit of the mountain. it was a wild, weird, intermittent sound, swelling or falling as the echoes reinforced or enfeebled it. in getting through the rocks which protrude from the snow at the base of the last spur of the mountain, i once had occasion to stoop my head, and, on suddenly raising it, my eyes swam as they rested on the unbroken slope of snow at my left. the sensation was akin to giddiness, but i believe it was chiefly due to the absence of any object upon the snow upon which i could converge the axes of my eyes. up to this point i had eaten nothing. i now unloosed my scrip, and had two mouthfuls of sandwich and nearly the whole of the tea that remained. i found here that my load, light as it was, impeded me. when fine balancing is necessary, the presence of a very light load, to which one is unaccustomed, may introduce an element of danger, and for this reason i here left the residue of my tea and sandwich behind me. a long, long edge was now in front of me, sloping steeply upwards. as i commenced the ascent of this, the foremost of those whose cheer had reached me from the summit some time previously, appeared upon the top of the edge, and the whole party was seen immediately afterwards dangling on the kamm. we mutually approached each other. peter bohren, a well-known oberland guide, came first, and after him came the gentleman in his immediate charge. then came other guides with other gentlemen, and last of all my guide, lauener, with his strong right arm round the youngest of the party. we met where a rock protruded through the snow. the cold smote my naked throat bitterly, so to protect it i borrowed a handkerchief from lauener, bade my new acquaintances good bye, and proceeded upwards. i was soon at the place where the snow-ridge joins the rocks which constitute the crest of the mountain; through these my way lay, every step i took augmenting my distance from all life, and increasing my sense of solitude. i went up and down the cliffs as before, round ledges, through fissures, along edges of rock, over the last deep and rugged indentation, and up the rocks at its opposite side, to the summit. [sidenote: alone on the summit. .] [sidenote: the axe slips. .] a world of clouds and mountains lay beneath me. switzerland, with its pomp of summits, was clear and grand; italy was also grand, but more than half obscured. dark cumulus and dark crag vied in savagery, while at other places white snows and white clouds held equal rivalry. the scooped valleys of monte rosa itself were magnificent, all gleaming in the bright sunlight--tossed and torn at intervals, and sending from their rents and walls the magical blue of the ice. ponderous _névés_ lay upon the mountains, apparently motionless, but suggesting motion--sluggish, but indicating irresistible dynamic energy, which moved them slowly to their doom in the warmer valleys below. i thought of my position: it was the first time that a man had stood alone upon that wild peak, and were the imagination let loose amid the surrounding agencies, and permitted to dwell upon the perils which separated the climber from his kind, i dare say curious feelings might have been engendered. but i was prompt to quell all thoughts which might lessen my strength, or interfere with the calm application of it. once indeed an accident made me shudder. while taking the cork from a bottle which is deposited on the top, and which contains the names of those who have ascended the mountain, my axe slipped out of my hand, and slid some thirty feet away from me. the thought of losing it made my flesh creep, for without it descent would be utterly impossible. i regained it, and looked upon it with an affection which might be bestowed upon a living thing, for it was literally my staff of life under the circumstances. one look more over the cloud-capped mountains of italy, and i then turned my back upon them, and commenced the descent. the brown crags seemed to look at me with a kind of friendly recognition, and, with a surer and firmer feeling than i possessed on ascending, i swung myself from crag to crag and from ledge to ledge with a velocity which surprised myself. i reached the summit of the kamm, and saw the party which i had passed an hour and a half before, emerging from one of the hollows of the mountain; they had escaped from the edge which now lay between them and me. the thought of the possible loss of my axe at the summit was here forcibly revived, for without it i dared not take a single step. my first care was to anchor it firmly in the snow, so as to enable it to bear at times nearly the whole weight of my body. in some places, however, the anchor had but a loose hold; the "cornice" to which i have already referred became granular, and the handle of the axe went through it up to the head, still, however, remaining loose. some amount of trust had thus to be withdrawn from the staff and placed in the limbs. a curious mixture of carelessness and anxiety sometimes fills the mind on such occasions. i often caught myself humming a verse of a frivolous song, but this was mechanical, and the substratum of a man's feelings under such circumstances is real earnestness. the precipice to my left was a continual preacher of caution, and the slope to my right was hardly less impressive. i looked down the former but rarely, and sometimes descended for a considerable time without looking beyond my own footsteps. the power of a thought was illustrated on one of these occasions. i had descended with extreme slowness and caution for some time, when looking over the edge of the cornice i saw a row of pointed rocks at some distance below me. these i felt must receive me if i slipped over, and i thought how before reaching them i might so break my fall as to arrive at them unkilled. this thought enabled me to double my speed, and as long as the spiky barrier ran parallel to my track i held my staff in one hand, and contented myself with a slight pressure upon it. i came at length to a place where the edge was solid ice, which rose to the level of the cornice, the latter appearing as if merely stuck against it. a groove ran between the ice and snow, and along this groove i marched until the cornice became unsafe, and i had to betake myself to the ice. the place was really perilous, but, encouraging myself by the reflection that it would not last long, i carefully and deliberately hewed steps, causing them to dip a little inward, so as to afford a purchase for the heel of my boot, never forsaking one till the next was ready, and never wielding my hatchet until my balance was secured. i was soon at the bottom of the kamm, fairly out of danger, and full of glad vigour i bore swiftly down upon the party in advance of me. it was an easy task to me to fuse myself amongst them as if i had been an old acquaintance, and we joyfully slid, galloped, and rolled together down the residue of the mountain. [sidenote: accident on the kamm. .] the only exception was the young gentleman in lauener's care. a day or two previously he had, i believe, injured himself in crossing the gemmi, and long before he reached the summit of monte rosa his knee swelled, and he walked with great difficulty. but he persisted in ascending, and lauener, seeing his great courage, thought it a pity to leave him behind. i have stated that a portion of the kamm was solid ice. on descending this, mr. f.'s footing gave way, and he slipped forward. lauener was forced to accompany him, for the place was too steep and slippery to permit of their motion being checked. both were on the point of going over the lyskamm side of the mountain, where they would have indubitably been dashed to pieces. "there was no escape there," said lauener, in describing the incident to me subsequently, "but i saw a possible rescue at the other side, so i sprang to the right, forcibly swinging my companion round; but in doing so, the bâton tripped me up; we both fell, and rolled rapidly over each other down the incline. i knew that some precipices were in advance of us, over which we should have gone, so, releasing myself from my companion, i threw myself in front of him, stopped myself with my axe, and thus placed a barrier before him." after some vain efforts at sliding down the slopes on a bâton, in which practice i was fairly beaten by some of my new friends, i attached myself to the invalid, and walked with him and lauener homewards. had i gone forward with the foremost of the party, i should have completed the expedition to the summit and back in a little better than nine hours. [sidenote: danger of climbing alone. .] i think it right to say one earnest word in connexion with this ascent; and the more so as i believe a notion is growing prevalent that half what is said and written about the dangers of the alps is mere humbug. no doubt exaggeration is not rare, but i would emphatically warn my readers against acting upon the supposition that it is general. the dangers of mont blanc, monte rosa, and other mountains, are real, and, if not properly provided against, may be terrible. i have been much accustomed to be alone upon the glaciers, but sometimes, even when a guide was in front of me, i have felt an extreme longing to have a second one behind me. less than two good ones i think an arduous climber ought not to have; and if climbing without guides were to become habitual, deplorable consequences would assuredly sooner or later ensue. ( .) the th of august i spent upon the furgge glacier at the base of mont cervin, and what it taught me shall be stated in another place. the evening of this day was signalised by the pleasant acquaintances which it gave me. it was my intention to cross the weissthor on the morning of the th, but thunder, lightning, and heavy rain opposed the project, and with two friends i descended, amid pitiless rain, to zermatt. next day i walked by way of stalden to saas, where i made the acquaintance of herr imseng, the curé, and on the st ascended to the distel alp. near to this place the allalein glacier pushes its huge terminus right across the valley and dams up the streams descending from the mountains higher up, thus giving birth to a dismal lake. at one end of this stands the mattmark hotel, which was to be my headquarters for a few days. [sidenote: ascent of a boulder. .] i reached the place in good company. near to the hotel are two magnificent boulders of green serpentine, which have been lodged there by one of the lateral glaciers; and two of the ladies desiring to ascend one of these rocks, a friend and myself helped them to the top. the thing was accomplished in a very spirited way. indeed the general contrast, in regard to energy, between the maidens of the british isles and those of the continent and of america is extraordinary. surely those who talk of this country being in its old age overlook the physical vigour of its sons and daughters. they are strong, but from a combination of the greatest forces we may obtain a small resultant, because the forces may act in opposite directions and partly neutralize each other. herein, in fact, lies britain's weakness; it is strength ill-directed; and is indicative rather of the perversity of young blood than of the precision of mature years. [sidenote: dismal quarters. .] immediately after this achievement i was forsaken by my friends, and remained the only visitor in the hotel. a dense gray cloud gradually filled the entire atmosphere, from which the rain at length began to gush in torrents. the scene from the windows of the hotel was of the most dismal character; the rain also came through the roof, and dripped from the ceiling to the floor. i endeavoured to make a fire, but the air would not let the smoke of the pine-logs ascend, and the biting of the hydrocarbons was excruciating to the eyes. on the whole, the cold was preferable to the smoke. during the night the rain changed to snow, and on the morning of the nd all the mountains were thickly covered. the gray delta through which a river of many arms ran into the mattmark see was hidden; against some of the windows of the _salle à manger_ the snow was also piled, obscuring more than half their light. i had sent my guide to visp, and two women and myself were the only occupants of the place. it was extremely desolate--i felt, moreover, the chill of monte rosa in my throat, and the conditions were not favourable to the cure of a cold. on the rd the allalein glacier was unfit for work; i therefore ascended to the summit of the monte moro, and found the valaisian side of the pass in clear sunshine, while impenetrable fog met us on the italian side. i examined the colour of the freshly fallen snow; it was not an ordinary blue, and was even more transparent than the blue of the firmament. when the snow was broken the light flashed forth; when the staff was dug into the snow and withdrawn, the blue gleam appeared; when the staff lay in a hole, although there might be a sufficient space all round it, the coloured light refused to show itself. my cough kept me awake on the night of the rd, and my cold was worse next day. i went upon the allalein glacier, but found myself by no means so sure a climber as usual. the best guides find that their powers vary; they are not equally competent on all days. i have heard a celebrated chamouni guide assert that a man's _morale_ is different on different days. the morale in my case had a physical basis, and it probably has so in all. the allalein glacier, as i have said, crosses the valley and abuts against the opposite mountain; here it is forced to turn aside, and in consequence of the thrust and bending it is crumpled and crevassed. the wall of the mattmark see is a fine glacier section: looked at from a distance, the ridges and fissures appear arranged like a fan. the structure of the crumpled ice varies from the vertical to the horizontal, and the ridges are sometimes split _along_ the planes of structure. the aspect of this portion of the glacier from some of the adjacent heights is exceedingly interesting. [sidenote: the vault of the allalein. .] on the morning of the th i had two hours' clambering over the mountains before breakfast, and traced the action of ancient glaciers to a great height. the valley of saas in this respect rivals that of hasli; the flutings and polishings being on the grandest scale. after breakfast i went to the end of the allalein glacier, where the saas visp river rushes from it: the vault was exceedingly fine, being composed of concentric arches of clear blue ice. i spent several hours here examining the intimate structure of the ice, and found the vacuum disks which i shall describe at another place, of the greatest service to me. as at rosenlaui and elsewhere, they here taught me that the glacier was composed of an aggregate of small fragments, each of which had a definite plane of crystallization. where the ice was partially weathered the surfaces of division between the fragments could be traced through the coherent mass, but on crossing these surfaces the direction of the vacuum disks changed, indicating a similar change of the planes of crystallization. the blue veins of the glacier went through its component fragments irrespective of these planes. sometimes the vacuum disks were parallel to the veins, sometimes across them, sometimes oblique to them. several fine masses of ice had fallen from the arch upon its floor, and these were disintegrated to the core. a kick, or a stroke of an axe, sufficed to shake masses almost a cubic yard in size into fragments varying not much on either side of a cubic inch. the veining was finely preserved on the concentric arches of the vault, and some of them apparently exhibited its abolition, or at least confusion, and fresh development by new conditions of pressure. the river being deep and turbulent this day, to reach its opposite side i had to climb the glacier and cross over the crown of its highest arch; this enabled me to get quite in front of the vault, to enter it, and closely inspect those portions where the structure appeared to change. i afterwards ascended the steep moraine which lies between the allalein and the smaller glacier to the left of it; passing to the latter at intervals to examine its structure. i was at length stopped by the dislocated ice; and from the heights i could count a system of seven dirt-bands, formed by the undulations on the surface of the glacier. on my return to the hotel i found there a number of well-known alpine men who intended to cross the adler pass on the following day. herr imseng was there: he came to me full of enthusiasm, and asked me whether i would join him in an ascent of the dom: we might immediately attack it; and he felt sure that we should succeed. the dom is the highest of the mischabel peaks, and is one of the grandest of the alps. i agreed to join the curé, and with this understanding we parted for the night. [sidenote: avalanche at saas. .] thursday, th august.--a wild stormy morning after a wild and rainy night: the adler pass being impassable, the mountaineers returned, and imseng informed me that the dom must be abandoned. he gave me the statistics of an avalanche which had fallen in the valley some years before. within the memory of man saas had never been touched by an avalanche, but a tradition existed that such a catastrophe had once occurred. on the th of march, , at eight o'clock in the morning, the curé was in his room; when he heard the cracking of pine-branches, and inferred from the sound that an avalanche was descending upon the village. it dashed in the windows of his house and filled his rooms with snow; the sound it produced being sufficient to mask the crashing of the timbers of an adjacent house. three persons were killed. on the rd of april, , heavy snow fell at saas; the curé waited until it had attained a depth of four feet, and then retreated to fée. that night an avalanche descended, and in the line of its rush was a house in which five or six and twenty people had collected for safety: nineteen of them were killed. the curé afterwards showed me the site of the house, and the direction of the avalanche. it passed through a pine wood; and on expressing my surprise that the trees did not arrest it, he replied that the snow was "quite like dust," and rushed among the trees like so much water. to return from fée to saas on the day following he found it necessary to carry two planks. kneeling upon one of them, he pushed the other forward, and transferred his weight to it, drawing the other after him and repeating the same act. the snow was like flour, and would not otherwise bear his weight. seeing no prospect of fine weather, i descended to saas on the afternoon of the th. i was the only guest at the hotel; but during the evening i was gratified by the unexpected arrival of my friend hirst, who was on his way over the monte moro to italy. [sidenote: the fÉe glacier. .] [sidenote: snow, vapour and cloud. .] for the last five days it had been a struggle between the north wind and the south, each edging the other by turns out of its atmospheric bed, and producing copious precipitation; but now the conflict was decided--the north had prevailed, and an almost unclouded heaven overspread the alps. the few white fleecy masses that remained were good indications of the swift march of the wind in the upper air. my friend and i resolved to have at least one day's excursion together, and we chose for it the glacier of the fée. ascending the mountain by a well-beaten path, we passed a number of "calvaries" filled with tattered saints and virgins, and soon came upon the rim of a flattened bowl quite clasped by the mountains. in its centre was the little hamlet of fée, round which were fresh green pastures, and beyond it the perpetual ice and snow. it was exceedingly picturesque--a scene of human beauty and industry where savagery alone was to be expected. the basin had been scooped by glaciers, and as we paused at its entrance the rounded and fluted rocks were beneath our feet. the alphubel and the mischabel raised their crowns to heaven in front of us; the newly fallen snow clung where it could to the precipitous crags of the mischabel, but on the summits it was the sport of the wind. sometimes it was borne straight upwards in long vertical striæ; sometimes the fibrous columns swayed to the right, sometimes to the left; sometimes the motion on one of the summits would quite subside; anon the white peak would appear suddenly to shake itself to dust, which it yielded freely to the wind. i could see the wafted snow gradually melt away, and again curdle up into true white cloud by precipitation; this in its turn would be pulled asunder like carded wool, and reduced a second time to transparent vapour. in the middle of the ice of the fée stands a green alp, not unlike the jardin; up this we climbed, halting at intervals upon its grassy knolls to inspect the glacier. i aimed at those places where on à priori grounds i should have thought the production of the veined structure most likely, and reached at length the base of a wall of rock from the edge of which long spears of ice depended. here my friend halted, while lauener and myself climbed the precipice, and ascended to the summit of the alp. the snow was deep at many places, and our immersions in unseen holes very frequent. from the peak of the fée alp a most glorious view is obtained; in point of grandeur it will bear comparison with any in the alps, and its seclusion gives it an inexpressible charm. we remained for half an hour upon the warm rock, and then descended. it was our habit to jump from the higher ledges into the deep snow below them, in which we wallowed as if it were flour; but on one of these occasions i lighted on a stone, and the shock produced a curious effect upon my hearing. i appeared suddenly to lose the power of appreciating deep sounds, while the shriller ones were comparatively unimpaired. after i rejoined my friend it required attention on my part to hear him when he spoke to me. this continued until i approached the end of the glacier, when suddenly the babblement of streams, and a world of sounds to which i had been before quite deaf burst in upon me. the deafness was probably due to a strain of the tympanum, such as we can produce artificially, and thus quench low sounds, while shrill ones are scarcely affected. [sidenote: "a terrible hole." .] i was anxious to quit saas early next morning, but the curé expressed so strong a wish to show us what he called a _schauderhaftes loch_--a terrible hole--which he had himself discovered, that i consented to accompany him. we were joined by his assistant and the priest of fée. the stream from the fée glacier has cut a deep channel through the rocks, and along the right-hand bank of the stream we ascended. it was very rough with fallen crags and fallen pines amid which we once or twice lost our way. at length we came to an aperture just sufficient to let a man's body through, and were informed by our conductor that our route lay along the little tunnel: he lay down upon his stomach and squeezed himself through it like a marmot. i followed him; a second tunnel, in which, however, we could stand upright, led into a spacious cavern, formed by the falling together of immense slabs of rock which abutted against each other so as to form a roof. it was the very type of a robber den; and when i remarked this, it was at once proposed to sing a verse from schiller's play. the young priest had a powerful voice--he led and we all chimed in. [sidenote: song of the robbers. .] "ein frohes leben führen wir, ein leben voller wonne. der wald ist unser nachtquartier, bei sturm und wind hanthieren wir, der mond ist unsre sonne." herr imseng wore his black coat; the others had taken theirs off, but they wore their clerical hats, black breeches and stockings. we formed a singular group in a singular place, and the echoed voices mingled strangely with the gusts of the wind and the rush of the river. soon afterwards i parted from my friend, and descended the valley to visp, where i also parted with my guide. he had been with me from the nd of july to the th of august, and did his duty entirely to my satisfaction. he is an excellent iceman, and is well acquainted both with the glaciers of the oberland and of the valais. he is strong and good-humoured, and were i to make another expedition of the kind i don't think that i should take any guide in the oberland in preference to christian lauener. ( .) [sidenote: climbers and science. .] it is a singular fact that as yet we know absolutely nothing of the winter temperature of any one of the high alpine summits. no doubt it is a sufficient justification of our alpine men, as regards their climbing, _that they like it_. this plain reason is enough; and no man who ever ascended that "bad eminence" primrose hill, or climbed to hampstead heath for the sake of a freer horizon, can consistently ask a better. as regards physical science, however, the contributions of our mountaineers have as yet been _nil_, and hence, when we hear of the scientific value of their doings, it is simply amusing to the climbers themselves. i do not fear that i shall offend them in the least by my frankness in stating this. their pleasure is that of overcoming acknowledged difficulties, and of witnessing natural grandeur. but i would venture to urge that our alpine men will not find their pleasure lessened by embracing a scientific object in their doings. they have the strength, the intelligence, and let them add to these the accuracy which physical science now demands, and they may contribute work of enduring value. mr. casella will gladly teach them the use of his minimum-thermometers; and i trust that the next seven years will not pass without making us acquainted with the winter temperature of every mountain of note in switzerland.[a] i had thought of this subject since i first read the conjectures of de saussure on the temperature of mont blanc; but in i met auguste balmat at the jardin, and there learned from him that he entertained the idea of placing a self-registering thermometer at the summit of the mountain. balmat was personally a stranger to me at the time, but professor forbes's writings had inspired me with a respect for him, which this unprompted idea of his augmented. he had procured a thermometer, the graduation of which, however, he feared was not low enough. as an encouragement to balmat, and with the view of making his laudable intentions known, i communicated them to the royal society, and obtained from the council a small grant of money to purchase thermometers and to assist in the expenses of an ascent. i had now the thermometers in my possession; and having completed my work at zermatt and saas, my next desire was to reach chamouni and place the instruments on the top of mont blanc. i accordingly descended the valley of the rhone to martigny, crossed the tête noire, and arrived at chamouni on the th of august, . [sidenote: difficulties at chamouni. .] balmat was engaged at this time as the guide of mr. alfred wills, who, however, kindly offered to place him at my disposal; and also expressed a desire to accompany me himself and assist me in my observations. i gladly accepted a proposal which gave me for companion so determined a climber and so estimable a man. but chamouni was rife with difficulties. in the guide chef had the good sense to give me considerable liberty of action. now his mood was entirely changed: he had been "molested" for giving me so much freedom. i wished to have a boy to carry a small instrument for me up the mer de glace--he would not allow it; i must take a guide. if i ascended mont blanc he declared that i must take four guides; that, in short, i must in all respects conform to the rules made for ordinary tourists. i endeavoured to explain to him the advantages which chamouni had derived from the labours of men of science; it was such men who had discovered it when it was unknown, and it was by their writings that the attention of the general public had been called towards it. it was a bad recompense, i urged, to treat a man of science as he was treating me. this was urged in vain; he shrugged his shoulders, was very sorry, but the thing could not be changed. i then requested to know his superior, that i might apply to him; he informed me that there were a president and commission of guides at chamouni, who were the proper persons to decide the question, and he proposed to call them together on the st of august, at seven p.m., on condition that i was to be present to state my own case. to this i agreed. i spent that day quite alone upon the mer de glace, and climbed amid a heavy snow-storm to the cleft station over trélaporte. when i reached the montanvert i was wet and weary, and would have spent the night there were it not for my engagement with the guide chef. i descended amid the rain, and at the appointed hour went to his bureau. he met me with a polite sympathetic shrug; explained to me that he had spoken to the commission, but that it could not assemble _pour une chose comma ça_; that the rules were fixed, and i must abide by them. "well," i responded, "you think you have done your duty; it is now my turn to perform mine. if no other means are available i will have this transaction communicated to the sardinian government, and i don't think that it will ratify what you have done." the guide chef evidently did not believe a word of it. previous to taking any further step i thought it right to see the president of the commission of guides, who was also syndic of the commune. i called upon him on the morning of the st of september, and, assuming that he knew all about the transaction, spoke to him accordingly. he listened to me for a time, but did not seem to understand me, which i ascribed partly to my defective french pronunciation. i expressed a hope that he did comprehend me; he said he understood my words very well, but did not know their purport. in fact he had not heard a single word about me or my request. he stated with some indignation that, so far from its being a subject on which the commission could not assemble, it was one which it was their especial duty to take into consideration. our conference ended with the arrangement that i was to write him an official letter stating the case, which he was to forward to the intendant of the province of faucigny resident at bonneville. all this was done. [sidenote: the intendant memorialised. .] i subsequently memorialised the intendant himself; and balmat visited him to secure his permission to accompany me. i have to record, that from first to last the intendant gave me his sympathy and support. he could not alter laws, but he deprecated a "judaical" interpretation of them. his final letter to myself was as follows:-- [sidenote: the intendant's response. .] "intendance royale de la province de faucigny, "bonneville, septembre, . "monsieur,-- "j'apprends avec une véritable peine les difficultés que vous rencontrez de la part de m. le guide chef pour l'effectuation de votre périlleuse entreprise scientifique, mais je dois vous dire aussi avec regret que ces difficultés résident dans un règlement fait en vue de la sécurité des voyageurs, quel que puisse être le but de leurs excursions. "désireux néanmoins de vous être utile, notamment en la circonstance, j'invite aujourd'hui même m. le guide chef à avoir égard à votre projet, à faire en sa faveur une exception au règlement ci-devant eu, tant qu'il n'y aura aucun danger pour votre sûreté et celle des personnes qui vous accompagneront, et enfin de se prêter dans les limites de ses moyens et attributions pour l'heureux succès de l'expédition, dont les conséquences et résultats n'intéressent pas seulement la science, mais encore la vallée de chamounix en particulier. "agréez, monsieur, "l'assurance de ma consideration très-distinguée. "pour l'intendant en congé, "le secrétaire, "delÉglise." while waiting for this permission i employed myself in various ways. on the nd of september i ascended the brévent, from which mont blanc is seen to great advantage. from chamouni its vast slopes are so foreshortened that one gets a very imperfect idea of the extent to be traversed to reach the summit. what, however, struck me most on the brévent was the changed relation of the aiguille du dru and the aiguille verte. from montanvert the former appears a most imposing mass, while the peak of the latter appears rather dwarfed behind it; but from the brévent the aiguille du dru is a mere pinnacle stuck in the breast of the grander pyramid of the aiguille verte. [sidenote: the "sÉracs" revisited. .] on the th i rose early, and, strapping on my telescope, ascended to the montanvert, where i engaged a youth to accompany me up the glacier. the heavens were clear and beautiful:--blue over the aiguille du dru, blue over the jorasse and mont mallet, deep blue over the pinnacles of charmoz, and the same splendid tint stretched grandly over the col du géant and its aiguille. no trace of condensation appeared till towards eleven o'clock, when a little black balloon of cloud swung itself over the aiguilles rouges. at one o'clock there were two large masses and a little one between them; while higher up a white veil, almost too thin to be visible, spread over a part of the heavens. at the zenith, however, and south, north, and west, the blue seemed to deepen as the day advanced. i visited the ice-wall at the tacul, which seemed lower than it was last year; the cascade of le géant appeared also far less imposing. only in the early part of summer do we see the ice in its true grandeur: its edges and surfaces are then sharp and clear, but afterwards its nobler masses shrink under the influence of sun and air. the _séracs_ now appeared wasted and dirty, and not the sharp angular ice-castles which rose so grandly when i first saw them. thirteen men had crossed the col du géant on the day previous, and left an ample trace behind them. this i followed nearly to the summit of the fall. the condition of the glacier was totally different from that of the opposite side on the previous year. the ice was riven, burrowed, and honeycombed, but the track amid all was easy: a vigorous english maiden might have ascended the fall without much difficulty. my object now was to examine the structure of the fall; but the ice was not in a good condition for such an examination: it was too much broken. still a definite structure was in many places to be traced, and some of them apparently showed structure and bedding at a high angle to each other, but i could not be certain of it. i paused at every commanding point of view and examined the ice through my opera-glass; but the result was inconclusive. i observed that the terraces which compose the fall do not front the middle of the glacier, but turn their foreheads rather towards its eastern side, and the consequence is that the protuberances lower down, which are the remains of these terraces, are highest at the same side. standing at the base of the aiguille noire, and looking downwards where the glacier des périades pushes itself against the géant, a series of fine crumples is formed on the former, cut across by crevasses, on the walls of which a forward and backward dipping of the blue veins is exhibited. huge crumples are also formed by the glacier du géant, which are well seen from a point nearly opposite the lowest lateral moraine of the glacier des périades. in some cases the upper portions of the crumples had scaled off so as to form arches of ice--a consequence doubtless of the pressure. [sidenote: thermometer at the jardin. .] the beauty of some alpine skies is treacherous; in fact the deepest blue often indicates an atmosphere charged almost to saturation with aqueous vapour. this was the case on the present occasion. soon after reaching chamouni in the evening, rain commenced and continued with scarcely any intermission until the afternoon of the th. i had given up all hopes of being able to ascend mont blanc; and hence resolved to place the thermometers in some more accessible position. on the th accordingly, accompanied by mr. wills, balmat, and some other friends, i ascended to the summit of the jardin, where we placed two thermometers: one in the ice, at a depth of three feet below the surface; another on a ledge of the highest rock.[b] the boiling point of water at this place was . ° fahr. deep snow was upon the talèfre, and the surrounding precipices were also heavily laden. avalanches thundered incessantly from the aiguille verte and the other mountains. scarcely five minutes on an average intervened between every two successive peals; and after the direct shock of each avalanche had died away the air of the basin continued to be shaken by the echoes reflected from its bounding walls. [sidenote: evening red. .] the day was far spent before we had completed our work. all through the weather had been fine, and towards evening augmented to magnificence. as we descended the glacier from the couvercle the sun was just disappearing, and the western heaven glowed with crimson, which crept gradually up the sky until finally it reached the zenith itself. such intensity of colouring is exceedingly rare in the alps; and this fact, together with the known variations in the intensity of the firmamental blue, justify the conclusion that the colouring must, in a great measure, be due to some _variable constituent_ of the atmosphere. if _the air_ were competent to produce these magnificent effects they would be the rule instead of the exception. [sidenote: finished work. .] no sooner had the thermometers been thus disposed of than the weather appeared to undergo a permanent change. on the th it was perfectly fine--not the slightest mist upon mont blanc; on the th this was also the case. balmat still had the old thermometer to which i have already referred; it might not do to show the minimum temperature of the air, but it might show the temperature at a certain depth below the surface. i find in my own case that the finishing of work has a great moral value: work completed is a safe fulcrum for the performance of other work; and even though in the course of our labours experience should show us a better means of accomplishing a given end, it is often far preferable to reach the end, even by defective means, than to swerve from our course. the habits which this conviction had superinduced no doubt influenced me when i decided on placing balmat's thermometer on the summit of mont blanc. footnotes: [a] i find with pleasure that my friend mr. john ball is now exerting himself in this direction. [b] the minimum temperature of the subsequent winter, as shown by this thermometer, was - ° fahr., or ° below the freezing point. the instrument placed in the ice was broken. second ascent of mont blanc, . ( .) [sidenote: shadows of the aiguilles. .] on the th of september, at - / a.m. the sunbeams had already fallen upon the mountain; but though the sky above him, and over the entire range of the aiguilles, was without a cloud, the atmosphere presented an appearance of turbidity resembling that produced by the dust and thin smoke mechanically suspended in a london atmosphere on a dry summer's day. at minutes past we quitted chamouni, bearing with us the good wishes of a portion of its inhabitants. [sidenote: interference-spectra. .] a lady accompanied us on horseback to the point where the path to the grands mulets deviates from that to the plan des aiguilles; here she turned to the left, and we proceeded slowly upwards, through woods of pine, hung with fantastic lichens: escaping from the gloom of these, we emerged upon slopes of bosky underwood, green hazel, and green larch, with the red berries of the mountain-ash shining brightly between them. through the air above us, like gnomons of a vast sundial, the aiguilles cast their fanlike shadows, which moved round as the day advanced. slopes of rhododendrons with withered flowers next succeeded, but the colouring of the bilberry-leaves was scarcely less exquisite than the freshest bloom of the alpine rose. for a long time we were in the cool shadow of the mountain, catching, at intervals, through the twigs in front of us, glimpses of the sun surrounded by coloured spectra. on one occasion a brow rose in front of me; behind it was a lustrous space of heaven, adjacent to the sun, which, however, was hidden behind the brow; against this space the twigs and weeds upon the summit of the brow shone as if they were self-luminous, while some bits of thistle-down floating in the air appeared, where they crossed this portion of the heavens, like fragments of the sun himself. once the orb appeared behind a rounded mass of snow which lay near the summit of the aiguille du midi. looked at with the naked eyes, it seemed to possess a billowy motion, the light darting from it in dazzling curves,--a subjective effect produced by the abnormal action of the intense light upon the eye. as the sun's disk came more into view, its rays however still grazing the summit of the mountain, interference-spectra darted from it on all sides, and surrounded it with a glory of richly-coloured bars. mingling however with the grandeur of nature, we had the anger and obstinacy of man. with a view to subsequent legal proceedings, the guide chef sent a spy after us, who, having satisfied himself of our delinquency, took his unpleasant presence from the splendid scene. strange to say, though the luminous appearance of bodies projected against the sky adjacent to the rising sun is a most striking and beautiful phenomenon, it is hardly ever seen by either guides or travellers; probably because they avoid looking towards a sky the brightness of which is painful to the eyes. in auguste balmat had never seen the effect; and the only written description of it which we possess is one furnished by professor necker, in a letter to sir david brewster, which is so interesting that i do not hesitate to reproduce it here:-- [sidenote: professor necker's letter. .] "i now come to the point," writes m. necker, "which you particularly wished me to describe to you; i mean the luminous appearance of trees, shrubs, and birds, when seen from the foot of a mountain a little before sunrise. the wish i had to see again the phenomenon before attempting to describe it made me detain this letter a few days, till i had a fine day to go to see it at the mont salève; so yesterday i went there, and studied the fact, and in elucidation of it i made a little drawing, of which i give you here a copy: it will, with the explanation and the annexed diagram (fig. ), impart to you, i hope, a correct idea of the phenomenon. you must conceive the observer placed at the foot of a hill interposed between him and the place where the sun is rising, and thus entirely in the shade; the upper margin of the mountain is covered with woods or detached trees and shrubs, which are projected as dark objects on a very bright and clear sky, except at the very place where the sun is just going to rise, for there all the trees and shrubs bordering the margin are entirely,--branches, leaves, stem and all,--of a pure and brilliant white, appearing extremely bright and luminous, although projected on a most brilliant and luminous sky, as that part of it which surrounds the sun always is. all the minutest details, leaves, twigs, &c., are most delicately preserved, and you would fancy you saw these trees and forests made of the purest silver, with all the skill of the most expert workman. the swallows and other birds flying in those particular spots appear like sparks of the most brilliant white. unfortunately, all these details, which add so much to the beauty of this splendid phenomenon, cannot be represented in such small sketches. [illustration: fig. . luminous trees projected against the sky at sunrise.] "neither the hour of the day nor the angle which the object makes with the observer appears to have any effect; for on some occasions i have seen the phenomenon take place at a very early hour in the morning. yesterday it was a.m., when i saw it as represented in fig. . i saw it again on the same day at p.m., at a different place of the same mountain, for which the sun was just setting. at one time the angle of elevation of the lighted white shrubs above the horizon of the spectator was about °, while at another place it was only °. but the extent of the field of illumination is variable, according to the distance at which the spectator is placed from it. when the object behind which the sun is just going to rise, or has just been setting, is very near, no such effect takes place. in the case represented in fig. the distance was about mètres, or english feet, from the spectator in a direct line, the height above his level being mètres, or english feet, and the horizontal line drawn from him to the horizontal projection of these points on the plane of his horizon being mètres, or english feet, as will be seen in the following diagram, fig. . [sidenote: silver trees at sunrise. .] [illustration: fig. . luminous trees projected against the sky at sunrise.] [sidenote: birds as sparks or stars. .] "in this case only small shrubs and the lower half of the stem of a tree are illuminated white, and the horizontal extent of this effect is also comparatively small; while at other places when i was near the edge behind which the sun was going to rise no such effect took place. but on the contrary, when i have witnessed the phenomenon at a greater distance and at a greater height, as i have seen it other times on the same and on other mountains of the alps, large tracts of forests and immense spruce-firs were illuminated white throughout their whole length, as i have attempted to represent in fig. , and the corresponding diagram, fig. . nothing can be finer than these silver-looking spruce-forests. at the same time, though at a distance of more than a thousand mètres, a vast number of large swallows or swifts (_cypselus alpinus_), which inhabit these high rocks, were seen as small brilliant stars or sparks moving rapidly in the air. from these facts it appears to me obvious that the extent of the illuminated spots varies in a direct ratio of their distance; but at the same time that there must be a constant angular space, corresponding probably to the zone, a few minutes of a degree wide, around the sun's disk, which is a limit to the occurrence of the appearance. this would explain how the real extent which it occupies on the earth's surface varies with the relative distance of the spot from the eye of the observer, and accounts also for the phenomenon being never seen in the low country, where i have often looked for it in vain. now that you are acquainted with the circumstances of the fact, i have no doubt you will easily observe it in some part or other of your scotch hills; it may be some long heather or furze will play the part of our alpine forests, and i would advise you to try and place a bee-hive in the required position, and it would perfectly represent our swallows, sparks, and stars." [illustration: fig. . luminous trees projected against the sky at sunrise.] [illustration: fig. . luminous trees projected against the sky at sunrise.] [sidenote: the ladder condemned. .] our porters, with one exception, reached the pierre à l'echelle as soon as ourselves; and here having refreshed themselves, and the due exchange of loads having been made, we advanced upon the glacier, which we crossed, until we came nearly opposite to the base of the grands mulets. the existence of one wide crevasse, which was deemed impassable, had this year introduced the practice of assailing the rocks at their base, and climbing them to the cabin, an operation which balmat wished to avoid. at chamouni, therefore, he had made inquiries regarding the width of the chasm, and acting on his advice i had had a ladder constructed in two pieces, which, united together by iron attachments, was supposed to be of sufficient length to span the fissure. on reaching the latter, the pieces were united, and the ladder thrown across, but the bridge was so frail and shaky at the place of junction, and the chasm so deep, that balmat pronounced the passage impracticable. [sidenote: crossing crevasses. .] the porters were all grouped beside the crevasse when this announcement was made, and, like hounds in search of the scent, the group instantly broke up, seeking in all directions for a means of passage. the talk was incessant and animating; attention was now called in one direction, anon in another, the men meanwhile throwing themselves into the most picturesque groups and attitudes. all eyes at length were directed upon a fissure which was spanned at one point by an arch of snow, certainly under two feet deep at the crown. a stout rope was tied round the waist of one of our porters, and he was sent forward to test the bridge. he approached it cautiously, treading down the snow to give it compactness, and thus make his footing sure as he advanced; bringing regelation into play, he gave the mass the necessary continuity, and crossed in safety. the rope was subsequently stretched over the _pont_, and each of us causing his right hand to slide along it, followed without accident. soon afterwards, however, we met with a second and very formidable crevasse, to cross which we had but half of our ladder, which was applied as follows:--the side of the fissure on which we stood was lower than the opposite one; over the edge of the latter projected a cornice of snow, and a ledge of the same material jutted from the wall of the crevasse, a little below us. the ladder was placed from ledge to cornice, both of its ends being supported by snow. i could hardly believe that so frail a bearing could possibly support a man's weight; but a porter was tied as before, and sent up the ladder, while we followed protected by the rope. we were afterwards tied together, and thus advanced in an orderly line to the grands mulets. [sidenote: gorgeous sunset. .] the cabin was wet and disagreeable, but the sunbeams fell upon the brown rocks outside, and thither mr. wills and myself repaired to watch the changes of the atmosphere. i took possession of the flat summit of a prism of rock, where, lying upon my back, i watched the clouds forming, and melting, and massing themselves together, and tearing themselves like wool asunder in the air above. it was nature's language addressed to the intellect; these clouds were visible symbols which enabled us to understand what was going on in the invisible air. here unseen currents met, possessing different temperatures, mixing their contents both of humidity and motion, producing a mean temperature unable to hold their moisture in a state of vapour. the water-particles, obeying their mutual attractions, closed up, and a visible cloud suddenly shook itself out, where a moment before we had the pure blue of heaven. some of the clouds were wafted by the air towards atmospheric regions already saturated with moisture, and along their frontal borders new cloudlets ever piled themselves, while the hinder portions, invaded by a drier or a warmer air, were dissipated; thus the cloud advanced, with gain in front and loss behind, its permanence depending on the balance between them. the day waned, and the sunbeams began to assume the colouring due to their passage through the horizontal air. the glorious light, ever deepening in colour, was poured bounteously over crags, and snows, and clouds, and suffused with gold and crimson the atmosphere itself. i had never seen anything grander than the sunset on that day. clouds with their central portions densely black, denying all passage to the beams which smote them, floated westward, while the fiery fringes which bordered them were rendered doubly vivid by contrast with the adjacent gloom. the smaller and more attenuated clouds were intensely illuminated throughout. across other inky masses were drawn zigzag bars of radiance which resembled streaks of lightning. the firmament between the clouds faded from a blood-red through orange and daffodil into an exquisite green, which spread like a sea of glory through which those magnificent argosies slowly sailed. some of the clouds were drawn in straight chords across the arch of heaven, these being doubtless the sections of layers of cloud whose horizontal dimensions were hidden from us. the cumuli around and near the sun himself could not be gazed upon, until, as the day declined, they gradually lost their effulgence and became tolerable to the eyes. all was calm--but there was a wildness in the sky like that of anger, which boded evil passions on the part of the atmosphere. the sun at length sank behind the hills, but for some time afterwards carmine clouds swung themselves on high, and cast their ruddy hues upon the mountain snows. duskier and colder waxed the west, colder and sharper the breeze of evening upon the grands mulets, and as twilight deepened towards night, and the stars commenced to twinkle through the chilled air, we retired from the scene. [sidenote: storm on the grands mulets. .] the anticipated storm at length gave notice of its coming. the sea-waves, as observed by aristotle, sometimes reach the shore before the wind which produces them is felt; and here the tempest sent out its precursors, which broke in detached shocks upon the cabin before the real storm arrived. billows of air, in ever quicker succession, rolled over us with a long surging sound, rising and falling as crest succeeded trough and trough succeeded crest. and as the pulses of a vibrating body, when their succession is quick enough, blend to a continuous note, so these fitful gusts linked themselves finally to a storm which made its own wild music among the crags. grandly it swelled, carrying the imagination out of doors, to the clouds and darkness, to the loosened avalanches and whirling snow upon the mountain heads. moored to the rock on two sides, the cabin stood firm, and its manifest security allowed the mind the undisturbed enjoyment of the atmospheric war. we were powerfully shaken, but had no fear of being uprooted; and a certain grandeur of the heart rose responsive to the grandeur of the storm. mounting higher and higher, it at length reached its maximum strength, from which it lowered fitfully, until at length, with a melancholy wail, it bade our rock farewell. a little before half-past one we issued from the cabin. the night being without a moon, we carried three lanterns. the heavens were crowded with stars, among which, however, angry masses of cloud here and there still wandered. the storm, too, had left a rear-guard behind it; and strong gusts rolled down upon us at intervals, at one time, indeed, so violent as to cause balmat to express doubts of our being able to reach the summit. with a thick handkerchief bound around my hat and ears i enjoyed the onset of the wind. once, turning my head to the left, i saw what appeared to me to be a huge mass of stratus cloud, at a great distance, with the stars shining over it. in another instant a precipice of _névé_ loomed upon us; we were close to its base, and along its front the annual layers were separated from each other by broad dark bands. through the gloom it appeared like a cloud, the lines of bedding giving to it the stratus character. [sidenote: a comet discovered. .] immediately before lying down on the previous evening i had opened the little window of the cabin to admit some air. in the sky in front of me shone a curious nodule of misty light with a pale train attached to it. in , on the side of the brocken, i had observed, without previous notice, a comet discovered a few days previously by a former fellow student, and here was another "discovery" of the same kind. i inspected the stranger with my telescope, and assured myself that it was a comet. mr. wills chanced to be outside at the time, and made the same observation independently. as we now advanced up the mountain its ominous light gleamed behind us, while high up in heaven to our left the planet jupiter burned like a lamp of intense brightness. the petit plateau forms a kind of reservoir for the avalanches of the dôme du goûter, and this year the accumulation of frozen débris upon it was enormous. we could see nothing but the ice-blocks on which the light of the lanterns immediately fell; we only knew that they had been discharged from the _séracs_, and that similar masses now rose threatening to our right, and might at any moment leap down upon us. balmat commanded silence, and urged us to move across the plateau with all possible celerity. the warning of our guide, the wild and rakish appearance of the sky, the spent projectiles at our feet, and the comet with its "horrid hair" behind, formed a combination eminently calculated to excite the imagination. [sidenote: dawn on the grand plateau. .] and now the sky began to brighten towards dawn, with that deep and calm beauty which suggests the thought of adoration to the human mind. helped by the contemplation of the brightening east, which seemed to lend lightness to our muscles, we cheerily breasted the steep slope up to the grand plateau. the snow here was deep, and each of our porters took the lead in turn. we paused upon the grand plateau and had breakfast; digging, while we halted, our feet deeply into the snow. thence up to the corridor, by a totally different route from that pursued by mr. hirst and myself the year previously; the slope was steep, but it had not a precipice for its boundary. deep steps were necessary for a time, but when we reached the summit our ascent became more gentle. the eastern sky continued to brighten, and by its illumination the grand plateau and its bounding heights were lovely beyond conception. the snow was of the purest white, and the glacier, as it pushed itself on all sides into the basin, was riven by fissures filled with a coerulean light, which deepened to inky gloom as the vision descended into them. the edges were overhung with fretted cornices, from which depended long clear icicles, tapering from their abutments like spears of crystal. the distant fissures, across which the vision ranged obliquely without descending into them, emitted that magical firmamental shimmer which, contrasted with the pure white of the snow, was inexpressibly lovely. near to us also grand castles of ice reared themselves, some erect, some overturned, with clear cut sides, striped by the courses of the annual snows, while high above the _séracs_ of the plateau rose their still grander brothers of the dôme du goûter. there was a nobility in this glacier scene which i think i have never seen surpassed;--a strength of nature, and yet a tenderness, which at once raised and purified the soul. the gush of the direct sunlight could add nothing to this heavenly beauty; indeed i thought its yellow beams a profanation as they crept down from the humps of the dromedary, and invaded more and more the solemn purity of the realm below. [sidenote: balmat in danger. .] our way lay for a time amid fine fissures with blue walls, until at length we reached the edge of one which elicited other sentiments than those of admiration. it must be crossed. at the opposite side was a high and steep bank of ice which prolonged itself downwards, and ended in a dependent eave of snow which quite overhung the chasm, and reached to within about a yard of our edge of the crevasse. balmat came forward with his axe, and tried to get a footing on the eave: he beat it gently, but the axe went through the snow, forming an aperture through which the darkness of the chasm was rendered visible. our guide was quite free, without rope or any other means of security; he beat down the snow so as to form a kind of stirrup, and upon this he stepped. the stirrup gave way, it was right over the centre of the chasm, but with wonderful tact and coolness he contrived to get sufficient purchase from the yielding mass to toss himself back to the side of the chasm. the rope was now brought forward and tied round the waist of one of the porters; another step was cautiously made in the eave of snow, the man was helped across, and lessened his own weight by means of his hatchet. he gradually got footing on the face of the steep, which he mounted by escaliers; and on reaching a sufficient height he cut two large steps in which his feet might rest securely. here he laid his breast against the sloping wall, and another person was sent forward, who drew himself up by the rope which was attached to the leader. thus we all passed, each of us in turn bearing the strain of his successor upon the rope; it was our last difficulty, and we afterwards slowly plodded through the snow of the corridor towards the base of the mur de la côte. [sidenote: storm on mont blanc. .] [sidenote: thermometer buried. .] climbing zigzag, we soon reached the summit of the mur, and immediately afterwards found ourselves in the midst of cold drifting clouds, which obscured everything. they dissolved for a moment and revealed to us the sunny valley of chamouni; but they soon swept down again and completely enveloped us. upon the calotte, or last slope, i felt no trace of the exhaustion which i had experienced last year, but enjoyed free lungs and a quiet heart. the clouds now whirled wildly round us, and the fine snow, which was caught by the wind and spit bitterly against us, cut off all visible communication between us and the lower world. as we approached the summit the air thickened more and more, and the cold, resulting from the withdrawal of the sunbeams, became intense. we reached the top, however, in good condition, and found the new snow piled up into a sharp _arête_, and the summit of a form quite different from that of the _dos d'un ane_, which it had presented the previous year. leaving balmat to make a hole for the thermometer, i collected a number of bâtons, drove them into the snow, and, drawing my plaid round them, formed a kind of extempore tent to shelter my boiling-water apparatus. the covering was tightly held, but the snow was as fine and dry as dust, and penetrated everywhere: my lamp could not be secured from it, and half a box of matches was consumed in the effort to ignite it. at length it did flame up, and carried on a sputtering combustion. the cold of the snow-filled boiler condensing the vapour from the lamp gradually produced a drop, which, when heavy enough to detach itself from the vessel, fell upon the flame and put it out. it required much patience and the expenditure of many matches to relight it. meanwhile the absence of muscular action caused the cold to affect our men severely. my beard and whiskers were a mass of clotted ice. the bâtons were coated with ice, and even the stem of my thermometer, the bulb of which was in hot water, was covered by a frozen enamel. the clouds whirled, and the little snow granules hit spitefully against the skin wherever it was exposed. the temperature of the air was ° fahr. below the freezing point. i was too intent upon my work to heed the cold much, but i was numbed; one of my fingers had lost sensation, and my right heel was in pain: still i had no thought of forsaking my observation until mr. wills came to me and said that we must return speedily, for balmat's hands were _gelées_. i did not comprehend the full significance of the word; but, looking at the porters, they presented such an aspect of suffering that i feared to detain them longer. they looked like worn old men, their hair and clothing white with snow, and their faces blue, withered, and anxious-looking. the hole being ready, i asked balmat for the magnet to arrange the index of the thermometer: his hands seemed powerless. i struck my tent, deposited the instrument, and, as i watched the covering of it up, some of the party, among whom were mr. wills and balmat, commenced the descent.[a] [sidenote: balmat frostbitten. .] i followed them speedily. midway down the calotte i saw balmat, who was about a hundred yards in advance of me, suddenly pause and thrust his hands into the snow, and commence rubbing them vigorously. the suddenness of the act surprised me, but i had no idea at the time of its real significance: i soon came up to him; he seemed frightened, and continued to beat and rub his hands, plunging them, at quick intervals, into the snow. still i thought the thing would speedily pass away, for i had too much faith in the man's experience to suppose that he would permit himself to be seriously injured. but it did not pass as i hoped it would, and the terrible possibility of his losing his hands presented itself to me. he at length became exhausted by his own efforts, staggered like a drunken man, and fell upon the snow. mr. wills and myself took each a hand, and continued the process of beating and rubbing. i feared that we should injure him by our blows, but he continued to exclaim, "n'ayez pas peur, frappez toujours, frappez fortement!" we did so, until mr. wills became exhausted, and a porter had to take his place. meanwhile balmat pinched and bit his fingers at intervals, to test their condition; but there was no sensation. he was evidently hopeless himself; and, seeing him thus, produced an effect upon me that i had not experienced since my boyhood--my heart swelled, and i could have wept like a child. the idea that i should be in some measure the cause of his losing his hands was horrible to me; schemes for his support rushed through my mind with the usual swiftness of such speculations, but no scheme could restore to him his lost hands. at length returning sensation in one hand announced itself by excruciating pain. "je souffre!" he exclaimed at intervals--words which, from a man of his iron endurance, had a more than ordinary significance. but pain was better than death, and, under the circumstances, a sign of improvement. we resumed our descent, while he continued to rub his hands with snow and brandy, thrusting them at every few paces into the mass through which we marched. at chamouni he had skilful medical advice, by adhering to which he escaped with the loss of six of his nails--his hands were saved. i cannot close this recital without expressing my admiration of the dauntless bearing of our porters, and of the cheerful and efficient manner in which they did their duty throughout the whole expedition. their names are edouard bellin, joseph favret, michel payot, joseph folliguet, and alexandre balmat. footnotes: [a] in august, , i found the temperature of water, boiling in an open vessel at the summit of mont blanc, to be . ° fahr. on that occasion also, though a laborious search was made for the thermometer, it could not be found. ( .) [sidenote: procÈs-verbal. .] the hostility of the chief guide to the expedition was not diminished by the letter of the intendant; and he at once entered a _procès-verbal_ against balmat and his companions on their return to chamouni. i felt that the power thus vested in an unlettered man to arrest the progress of scientific observations was so anomalous, that the enlightened and liberal government of sardinia would never tolerate such a state of things if properly represented to it. the british association met at leeds that year, and to it, as a guardian of science, my thoughts turned. i accordingly laid the case before the association, and obtained its support: a resolution was unanimously passed "that application be made to the sardinian authorities for increased facilities for making scientific observations in the alps." considering the arduous work which balmat had performed in former years in connexion with the glaciers, and especially his zeal in determining, under the direction of professor forbes, their winter motion--for which, as in the case above recorded, he refused all personal remuneration--i thought such services worthy of some recognition on the part of the royal society. i suggested this to the council, and was met by the same cordial spirit of co-operation which i had previously experienced at leeds. a sum of five-and-twenty guineas was at once voted for the purchase of a suitable testimonial; and a committee, consisting of sir roderick murchison, professor forbes, and myself, was appointed to carry the thing out. balmat was consulted, and he chose a photographic apparatus, which, with a suitable inscription, was duly presented to him. [sidenote: british association. .] thus fortified, i drew up an account of what had occurred at chamouni during my last visit, accompanied by a brief statement of the changes which seemed desirable. this was placed in the hands of the president of the british association, to whose prompt and powerful co-operation in this matter every alpine explorer who aspires to higher ground than ordinary is deeply indebted. the following letter assured me that the facility applied for by the british association would be granted by the sardinian government, and that future men of science would find in the alps a less embarrassed field of operations than had fallen to my lot in the summer of . [sidenote: the president's letter. .] " , hertford-street, mayfair, w., "february th, . "my dear sir,-- "having, as i informed you in my last note, communicated with the sardinian minister plenipotentiary the day after receiving your statement relative to the guides at chamouni, i have been favoured by replies from the minister, of the th and th february. in the first the marquis d'azeglio assures me that he will bring the subject before the competent authorities at turin, accompanying the transmission 'd'une récommandation toute spéciale.' in the second letter the marquis informs me that 'the preparation of new regulations for the guides at chamouni had for some time occupied the attention of the minister of the interior, and that these regulations will be in rigorous operation, in all probability, at the commencement of the approaching summer.' the marquis adds that, 'as the regulations will be based upon a principle of much greater liberty, he has every reason to believe that they will satisfy all the desires of travellers in the interests of science.' "with much pleasure at the opportunity of having been in any degree able to bring about the fulfilment of your wishes on the subject, "i remain, my dear sir, "faithfully yours, "richard owen. "pres. brit. association. "prof. tyndall, f.r.s." it ought to be stated that, previous to my arrival at chamouni in , an extremely cogent memorial drawn up by mr. john ball had been presented to the marquis d'azeglio by a deputation from the alpine club. it was probably this memorial which first directed the attention of the sardinian minister of the interior to the subject. winter expedition to the mer de glace, . ( .) having ten days at my disposal last christmas, i was anxious to employ them in making myself acquainted with the winter aspects and phenomena of the mer de glace. on wednesday, the st of december, i accordingly took my place to paris, but on arriving at folkestone found the sea so tempestuous that no boat would venture out. [sidenote: first defeat, and fresh attempt. .] the loss of a single day was more than i could afford, and this failure really involved the loss of two. seeing, therefore, the prospect of any practical success so small, i returned to london, purposing to give the expedition up. on the following day, however, the weather lightened, and i started again, reaching paris on friday morning. on that day it was not possible to proceed beyond macon, where, accordingly, i spent the night, and on the following day reached geneva. much snow had fallen; at paris it still cumbered the streets, and round about macon it lay thick, as if a more than usually heavy cloud had discharged itself on that portion of the country. between macon and roussillon it was lighter, but from the latter station onwards the quantity upon the ground gradually increased. [sidenote: geneva to chamouni. .] on christmas morning, at o'clock, i left geneva by the diligence for sallenches. the dawn was dull, but the sky cleared as the day advanced, and finally a dome of cloudless blue stretched overhead. the mountains were grand; their sunward portions of dazzling whiteness, while the shaded sides, in contrast with the blue sky behind them, presented a ruddy, subjective tint. the brightness of the day reached its maximum towards one o'clock, after which a milkiness slowly stole over the heavens, and increased in density until finally a drowsy turbidity filled the entire air. the distant peaks gradually blended with the white atmosphere above them and lost their definition. the black pine forests on the slopes of the mountains stood out in strong contrast to the snow; and, when looked at through the spaces enclosed by the tree branches at either side of the road, they appeared of a decided indigo-blue. it was only when thus detached by a vista in front that the blue colour was well seen, the air itself between the eye and the distant pines being the seat of the colour. goethe would have regarded it as an excellent illustration of his 'farbenlehre.' we reached sallenches a little after p.m., where i endeavoured to obtain a sledge to continue my journey. a fit one was not to be found, and a carriage was therefore the only resort. we started at five; it was very dark, but the feeble reflex of the snow on each side of the road was preferred by the postilion to the light of lamps. unlike the enviable ostrich, i cannot shut my eyes to danger when it is near: and as the carriage swayed towards the precipitous road side, i could not fold myself up, as it was intended i should, but, quitting the interior and divesting my limbs of every encumbrance, i took my seat beside the driver, and kept myself in readiness for the spring, which in some cases appeared imminent. my companion however was young, strong, and keen-eyed; and though we often had occasion for the exercise of the quality last mentioned, we reached servoz without accident. [sidenote: desolation. .] [sidenote: a horse in the snow. .] here we baited, and our progress afterwards was slow and difficult. the snow on the road was deep and hummocky, and the strain upon the horses very great. having crossed the arve at the pont-pelissier, we both alighted, and i went on in advance. the air was warm, and not a whisper disturbed its perfect repose. there was no moon, and the heavy clouds, which now quite overspread the heavens, cut off even the feeble light of the stars. the sound of the arve, as it rushed through the deep valley to my left, came up to me through crags and trees with a sad murmur. sometimes on passing an obstacle, the sound was entirely cut off, and the consequent silence was solemn in the extreme. it was a churchyard stillness, and the tall black pines, which at intervals cast their superadded gloom upon the road, seemed like the hearse-plumes of a dead world. i reached a wooden hut, where a lame man offers bâtons, minerals, and _eau de vie_, to travellers in summer. it was forsaken, and half buried in the snow. i leaned against the door, and enjoyed for a time the sternness of the surrounding scene. my conveyance was far behind, and the intermittent tinkle of the horses' bells, which augmented instead of diminishing the sense of solitude, informed me of the progress and the pauses of the vehicle. at the summit of the road i halted until my companion reached me; we then both remounted, and proceeded slowly towards les ouches. we passed some houses, the aspect of which was even more dismal than that of nature; their roofs were loaded with snow, and white buttresses were reared against the walls. there was no sound, no light, no voice of joy to indicate that it was the pleasant christmas time. we once met the pioneer of a party of four drunken peasants: he came right against us, and the coachman had to pull up. planting his feet in the snow and propping himself against the leader's shoulder, the bacchanal exhorted the postilion to drive on; the latter took him at his word, and overturned him in the snow. after this we encountered no living thing. the horses seemed seized by a kind of torpor, and leaned listlessly against each other; vainly the postilion endeavoured to rouse them by word and whip; they sometimes essayed to trot down the slopes, but immediately subsided to their former monotonous crawl. as we ascended the valley, the stillness of the air was broken at intervals by wild storm-gusts, sent down against us from mont blanc himself. these chilled me, so i quitted the carriage, and walked on. not far from chamouni, the road, for some distance, had been exposed to the full action of the wind, and the snow had practically erased it. its left wall was completely covered, while a few detached stones, rising here and there above the surface, were the only indications of the presence and direction of the right-hand wall. i could not see the state of the surface, but i learned by other means that the snow had been heaped in oblique ridges across my path. i staggered over four or five of these in succession, sinking knee-deep, and finally found myself immersed to the waist. this made me pause; i thought i must have lost the road, and vainly endeavoured to check myself by the positions of surrounding objects. i turned back and met the carriage: it had stuck in one of the ridges; one horse was down, his hind legs buried to the haunches, his left fore leg plunged to the shoulder in snow, and the right one thrown forward upon the surface. _c'est bien la route?_ demanded my companion. i went back exploring, and assured myself that we were over the road; but i recommended him to release the horses and leave the carriage to its fate. he, however, succeeding in extricating the leader, and while i went on in advance seeking out the firmer portions of the road, he followed, holding his horses by their heads; and half an hour's struggle of this kind brought us to chamouni. [sidenote: chamouni on christmas night. .] it also was a little "city of the dead." there was no living thing in the streets, and neither sound nor light in the houses. the fountain made a melancholy gurgle, one or two loosened window-shutters creaked harshly in the wind, and banged against the objects which limited their oscillations. the hôtel de l'union, so bright and gay in summer, was nailed up and forsaken; and the cross in front of it, stretching its snow-laden arms into the dim air, was the type of desolation. we rang the bell at the hôtel royal, but the bay of a watch-dog resounding through the house was long our only reply. the bell appeared powerless to wake the sleepers, and its sound mingled dismally with that of the wind howling through the deserted passages. the noise of my boot-heel, exerted long on the front door, was at length effective; it was unbarred, and the physical heat of a good stove soon added itself to the warmth of the welcome with which my hostess greeted me. december th.--the snow fell heavily, at frequent intervals, throughout the entire day. dense clouds draped all the mountains, and there was not the least prospect of my being able to see across the mer de glace. i walked out alone in the dim light, and afterwards traversed the streets before going to bed. they were quite forsaken. cold and sullen the arve rolled under its wooden bridge, while the snow fell at intervals with heavy shock from the roofs of the houses, the partial echoes from the surfaces of the granules combining to render the sound loud and hollow. thus were the concerns of this little hamlet changed and fashioned by the obliquity of the earth's axis, the chain of dependence which runs throughout creation, linking the roll of a planet alike with the interests of marmots and of men. [sidenote: ascent of the mountain. .] [sidenote: snow on the pines. .] tuesday, th december.--i rose at six o'clock, having arranged with my men to start at seven, if the weather at all permitted. edouard simond, my old assistant of , and joseph tairraz were the guides of the party; the porters were edouard balmat, joseph simond (fils d'auguste), françois ravanal, and another. they came at the time appointed; it was snowing heavily, and we agreed to wait till eight o'clock and then decide. they returned at eight, and finding them disposed to try the ascent to the montanvert, it was not my place to baulk them. through the valley the work was easy, as the snow had been partially beaten down, but we soon passed the habitable limits, and had to break ground for ourselves. three of my men had tried to reach the montanvert by _la filia_ on the previous thursday, but their experience of the route had been such as to deter them from trying it again. we now chose the ordinary route, breasting the slope until we reached the cluster of chalets, under the projecting eave of one of which the men halted and applied "pattens" to their feet. these consisted of planks about sixteen inches long and ten wide, which were firmly strapped to the feet. my first impression was that they were worse than useless, for though they sank less deeply than the unarmed feet, on being raised they carried with them a larger amount of snow, which, with the leverage of the leg, appeared to necessitate an enormous waste of force. i stated this emphatically, but the men adhered to their pattens, and before i reached the montanvert i had reason to commend their practice as preferable to my theory. i was however guided by the latter, and wore no pattens. the general depth of the snow along the track was over three feet; the footmarks of the men were usually rigid enough to bear my weight, but in many cases i went through the crust which their pressure had produced, and sank suddenly in the mass. the snow became softer as we ascended, and my immersions more frequent, but the work was pure enjoyment, and the scene one of extreme beauty. the previous night's snow had descended through a perfectly still atmosphere, and had loaded all the branches of the pines; the long arms of the trees drooped under the weight, and presented at their extremities the appearance of enormous talons turned downwards. some of the smaller and thicker trees were almost entirely covered, and assumed grotesque and beautiful forms; the upper part of one in particular resembled a huge white parrot with folded wings and drooping head, the slumber of the bird harmonizing with the torpor of surrounding nature. i have given a sketch of it in fig. . [illustration: fig. . snow on the pines.] [sidenote: sound of breaking snow. .] previous to reaching the half-way spring, where the peasant girls offer strawberries to travellers in summer, we crossed two large couloirs filled with the débris of avalanches which had fallen the night before. between these was a ridge forty or fifty yards wide on which the snow was very deep, the slope of the mountain also adding a component to the fair thickness of the snow. my shoulder grazed the top of the embankment to my right as i crossed the ridge, and once or twice i found myself waist deep in a vertical shaft from which it required a considerable effort to escape. suddenly we heard a deep sound resembling the dull report of a distant gun, and at the same moment the snow above us broke across, forming a fissure parallel to our line of march. the layer of snow had been in a state of strain, which our crossing brought to a crisis: it gave way, but having thus relieved itself it did not descend. several times during the ascent the same phenomenon occurred. once, while engaged upon a very steep slope, one of the men cried out to the leader, "_arrêtez!_" immediately in front of the latter the snow had given way, forming a zigzag fissure across the slope. we all paused, expecting to see an avalanche descend. tairraz was in front; he struck the snow with his bâton to loosen it, but seeing it indisposed to descend he advanced cautiously across it, and was followed by the others. i brought up the rear. the steepness of the mountain side at this place, and the absence of any object to which one might cling, would have rendered a descent with the snow in the last degree perilous, and we all felt more at ease when a safe footing was secured at the further side of the incline. at the spring, which showed a little water, the men paused to have a morsel of bread. the wind had changed, the air was clearing, and our hopes brightening. as we ascended the atmosphere went through some extraordinary mutations. clouds at first gathered round the aiguille and dôme du goûter, casting the lower slopes of the mountain into intense gloom. after a little time all this cleared away, and the beams of the sun striking detached pieces of the slopes and summits produced an extraordinary effect. the aiguille and dôme were most singularly illumined, and to the extreme left rose the white conical hump of the dromedary, from which a long streamer of snow-dust was carried southward by the wind. the aiguille du dru, which had been completely mantled during the earlier part of the day, now threw off its cloak of vapour and rose in most solemn majesty before us; half of its granite cone was warmly illuminated, and half in shadow. the wind was high in the upper regions, and, catching the dry snow which rested on the asperities and ledges of the aiguille, shook it out like a vast banner in the air. the changes of the atmosphere, and the grandeur which they by turns revealed and concealed, deprived the ascent of all weariness. we were usually flanked right and left by pines, but once between the fountain and the montanvert we had to cross a wide unsheltered portion of the mountain which was quite covered with the snow of recent avalanches. this was lumpy and far more coherent than the undisturbed snow. we took advantage of this, and climbed zigzag over the avalanches for three-quarters of an hour, thus reaching the opposite pines at a point considerably higher than the path. this, though not the least dangerous, was the least fatiguing part of the ascent. [sidenote: colour of snow. .] i frequently examined the colour of the snow: though fresh, its blue tint was by no means so pronounced as i have seen it on other occasions; still it was beautiful. the colour is, no doubt, due to the optical reverberations which occur within a fissure or cavity formed in the snow. the light is sent from side to side, each time plunging a little way into the mass; and being ejected from it by reflection, it thus undergoes a sifting process, and finally reaches the eye as blue light. the presence of any object which cuts off this cross-fire of the light destroys the colour. i made conical apertures in the snow, in some cases three feet deep, a foot wide at the mouth, and tapering down to the width of my bâton. when the latter was placed along the axis of such a cone, the blue light which had previously filled the cavity disappeared; on the withdrawal of the bâton it was followed by the light, and thus by moving the staff up and down its motions were followed by the alternate appearance and extinction of the light. i have said that the holes made in the snow seemed filled with a blue light, and it certainly appeared as if the air contained in the cavities had itself been coloured, and thereby rendered visible, the vision plunging into it as into a blue medium. another fact is perhaps worth notice: snow rarely lies so smooth as not to present little asperities at its surface; little ridges or hillocks, with little hollows between them. such small hollows resemble, in some degree, the cavities which i made in the snow, and from them, in the present instance, a delicate light was sent to the eye, faintly tinted with the pure blue of the snow-crystals. in comparison with the spots thus illuminated, the little protuberances were gray. the portions most exposed to the light seemed least illuminated, and their defect in this respect made them appear as if a light-brown dust had been strewn over them. [sidenote: the montanvert in winter. .] after five hours and a half of hard work we reached the montanvert. i had often seen it with pleasure. often, having spent the day alone amid the _séracs_ of the col du géant, on turning the promontory of trélaporte on my way home, the sight of the little mansion has gladdened me, and given me vigour to scamper down the glacier, knowing that pleasant faces and wholesome fare were awaiting me. this day, also, the sight of it was most welcome, despite its desolation. the wind had swept round the auberge, and carried away its snow-buttresses, piling the mass thus displaced against the adjacent sheds, to the roofs of which one might step from the surface of the snow. the floor of the little château in which i lodged in was covered with snow, and on it were the fresh footmarks of a little animal--a marmot might have made such marks, had not the marmots been all asleep--what the creature was i do not know. [sidenote: crystal curtain. .] in the application of her own principles, nature often transcends the human imagination; her acts are bolder than our predictions. it is thus with the motion of glaciers; it was thus at the montanvert on the day now referred to. the floors, even where the windows appeared well closed, were covered with a thin layer of fine snow; and some of the mattresses in the bedrooms were coated to the depth of half an inch with this fine powder. given a chink through which the finest dust can pass, dry snow appears competent to make its way through the same fissure. it had also been beaten against the windows, and clung there like a ribbed drapery. in one case an effect so singular was exhibited, that i doubted my eyes when i first saw it. in front of a large pane of glass, and quite detached from it, save at its upper edge, was a festooned curtain formed entirely of minute ice-crystals. it appeared to be as fine as muslin; the ease of its curves and the depth of its folds being such as could not be excelled by the intentional arrangement of ordinary gauze. the frost-figures on some of the window-panes were also of the most extraordinary character: in some cases they extended over large spaces, and presented the appearance which we often observe in london; but on other panes they occurred in detached clusters, or in single flowers, these grouping themselves together to form miniature bouquets of inimitable beauty. i placed my warm hand against a pane which was covered by the crystallization, and melted the frostwork which clung to it. i then withdrew my hand and looked at the film of liquid through a pocket-lens. the glass cooled by contact with the air, and after a time the film commenced to move at one of its edges; atom closed with atom, and the motion ran in living lines through the pellicle, until finally the entire film presented the beauty and delicacy of an organism. the connexion between such objects and what we are accustomed to call the feelings may not be manifest, but it is nevertheless true that, besides appealing to the pure intellect of man, these exquisite productions can also gladden his heart and moisten his eyes. [sidenote: the mer de glace in winter. .] the glacier excited the admiration of us all: not as in summer, shrunk and sullied like a spent reptile, steaming under the influence of the sun; its frozen muscles were compact, strength and beauty were associated in its aspect. at some places it was pure and smooth; at others frozen fins arose from it, high, steep, and sharply crested. down the opposite mountain side arrested streams set themselves erect in successive terraces, the fronts of which were fluted pillars of ice. there was no sound of water; even the nant blanc, which gushes from a spring, and which some describe as permanent throughout the winter, showed no trace of existence. from the montanvert to trélaporte the mer de glace was all in shadow; but the sunbeams pouring down the corridor of the géant ruled a beam of light across the glacier at its upper portion, smote the base of the aiguille du moine, and flooded the mountain with glory to its crest. at the opposite side of the valley was the aiguille du dru, with a banneret of snow streaming from its mighty cone. the grande jorasse, and the range of summits between it and the aiguille du géant, were all in view, and the charmoz raised its precipitous cliffs to the right, and pierced with its splinter-like pinnacles the clear cold air. as the night drew on, the mountains seemed to close in upon us; and on looking out before retiring to rest, a scene so solemn had never before presented itself to my eyes or affected my imagination. [sidenote: the first night. .] my men occupied the afternoon of the day of our arrival in making a preliminary essay upon the glacier while i prepared my instruments. to the person whom i intended to fix my stations, three others were attached by sound ropes of considerable length. hidden crevasses we knew were to be encountered, and we had made due preparation for them. throughout the afternoon the weather remained fine, and at night the stars shone out, but still with a feeble lustre. i could notice a turbidity gathering in the air over the range of the brévent, which seemed disposed to extend itself towards us. at night i placed a chair in the middle of the snow, at some distance from the house, and laid on it a registering thermometer. a bountiful fire of pine logs was made in the _salle à manger_; a mattress was placed with its foot towards the fire, its middle line bisecting the right angle in which the fireplace stood; this being found by experiment to be the position in which the draughts from the door and from the windows most effectually neutralized each other. in this region of calms i lay down, and covering myself with blankets and duvets, listened to the crackling of the logs, and watched their ruddy flicker upon the walls, until i fell asleep. the wind rose during the night, and shook the windows: one pane in particular seemed set in unison to the gusts, and responded to them by a loud and melodious vibration. i rose and wedged it round with _sous_ and penny pieces, and thus quenched its untimely music. december th.--we were up before the dawn. tairraz put my fire in order, and i then rose. the temperature of the room at a distance of eight feet from the fire was two degrees of centigrade below zero; the lowest temperature outside was eleven degrees of centigrade below zero,--not at all an excessive cold. the clouds indeed had, during the night, thrown vast diaphragms across the sky, and thus prevented the escape of the earth's heat into space. while my assistants were preparing breakfast i had time to inspect the glacier and its bounding heights. on looking up the mer de glace, the grande jorasse meets the view, rising in steep outline from the wall of cliffs which terminates the glacier de léchaud. behind this steep ascending ridge, which is shown on the frontispiece, and upon it, a series of clouds had ranged themselves, stretching lightly along the ridge at some places, and at others collecting into ganglia. a string of rosettes was thus formed which were connected together by gauzy filaments. the portion of the heavens behind the ridge was near the domain of the rising sun, and when he cleared the horizon his red light fell upon the clouds, and ignited them to ruddy flames. some of the lighter clouds doubled round the summit of the mountain, and swathed its black crags with a vestment of transparent red. the adjacent sky wore a strange and supernatural air; indeed there was something in the whole scene which baffled analysis, and the words of tennyson rose to my lips as i gazed upon it:-- [sidenote: a "rose of dawn." .] "god made himself an awful rose of dawn." i have spoken several times of the cloud-flag which the wind wafted from the summit of the aiguille du dru. on the present occasion this grand banner reached extraordinary dimensions. it was brindled in some places as if whipped into curds by the wind; but through these continuous streamers were drawn, which were bent into sinuosities resembling a waving flag at a mast-head. all this was now illuminated with the sun's red rays, which also fringed with fire the exposed edges and pinnacles both of the aiguille du dru and the aiguille verte. thus rising out of the shade of the valley the mountains burned like a pair of torches, the flames of which were blown half a mile through the air. soon afterwards the summits of the aiguilles rouges were illuminated, and day declared itself openly among the mountains. [sidenote: the stakes fixed. .] but these red clouds of the morning, magnificent though they were, suggested thoughts which tended to qualify the pleasure which they gave: they did not indicate good weather. sometimes, indeed, they had to fight with denser masses, which often prevailed, swathing the mountains in deep neutral tint, but which, again yielding, left the glory of the sunrise augmented by contrast with their gloom. between eight and nine a.m. we commenced the setting out of our first line, one of whose termini was a point about a hundred yards higher up than the montanvert hotel; a withered pine on the opposite mountain side marking the other terminus. the stakes made use of were four feet long. with the selfsame bâton which i had employed upon the mer de glace in , and which simond had preserved, the worthy fellow now took up the line. at some places the snow was very deep, but its lower portions were sufficiently compact to allow of a stake being firmly fixed in it. at those places where the wind had removed the snow or rendered it thin, the ice was pierced with an auger and the stake driven into it. the greatest caution was of course necessary on the part of the men; they were in the midst of concealed crevasses, and sounding was essential at every step. by degrees they withdrew from me, and approached the eastern boundary of the glacier, where the ice was greatly dislocated, and the labour of wading through the snow enormous. long détours were sometimes necessary to reach a required point; but they were all accomplished, and we at length succeeded in fixing eleven stakes along this line, the most distant of which was within about eighty yards of the opposite side of the glacier. [sidenote: storm on the glacier. .] the men returned, and i consulted them as to the possibility of getting a line across at the _ponts_; but this was judged to be impossible in the time. we thought, however, that a second line might be staked out at some distance below the montanvert. i took the theodolite down the mountain-slope, wading at times breast-deep in snow, and having selected a line, the men tied themselves together as before, and commenced the staking out. the work was slowly but steadily and steadfastly done. the air darkened; angry clouds gathered around the mountains, and at times the glacier was swept by wild squalls. the men were sometimes hidden from me by the clouds of snow which enveloped them, but between those intermittent gusts there were intervals of repose, which enabled us to prosecute our work. this line was more difficult than the first one; the glacier was broken into sharp-edged chasms; the ridges to be climbed were steep, and the snow which filled the depressions profound. the oblique arrangement of the crevasses also magnified the labour by increasing the circuits. i saw the leader of the party often shoulder-deep in snow, treading the soft mass as a swimmer walks in water, and i felt a wish to be at his side to cheer him and to share his toil. each man there, however, knew my willingness to do this if occasion required it, and wrought contented. at length the last stake being fixed, the faces of the men were turned homeward. the evening became wilder, and the storm rose at times to a hurricane. on the more level portions of the glacier the snow lay deep and unsheltered; among its frozen waves and upon its more dislocated portions it had been partially engulfed, and the residue was more or less in shelter. over the former spaces dense clouds of snow rose, whirling in the air and cutting off all view of the glacier. the whole length of the mer de glace was thus divided into clear and cloudy segments, and presented an aspect of wild and wonderful turmoil. a large pine stood near me, with its lowest branch spread out upon the surface of the snow; on this branch i seated myself, and, sheltered by the trunk, waited until i saw my men in safety. the wind caught the branches of the trees, shook down their loads of snow, and tossed it wildly in the air. every mountain gave a quota to the storm. the scene was one of most impressive grandeur, and the moan of the adjacent pines chimed in noble harmony with the picture which addressed the eyes. at length we all found ourselves in safety within doors. the windows shook violently. the tempest was however intermittent throughout, as if at each effort it had exhausted itself, and required time to recover its strength. as i heard its heralding roar in the gullies of the mountains, and its subsequent onset against our habitation, i thought wistfully of my stations, not knowing whether they would be able to retain their positions in the face of such a blast. that night however, as if the storm had sung our lullaby, we all slept profoundly, having arranged to commence our measurements as early as light permitted on the following day. [sidenote: heavy snow. .] thursday, th december.--"snow, heavy snow: it must have descended throughout the entire night; the quantity freshly fallen is so great; the atmosphere at seven o'clock is thick with the descending flakes." at eight o'clock it cleared up a little, and i proceeded to my station, while the men advanced upon the glacier; but i had scarcely fixed my theodolite when the storm recommenced. i had a man to clear away the snow and otherwise assist me; he procured an old door from the hotel, and by rearing it upon its end sheltered the object-glass of the instrument. added to the flakes descending from the clouds was the spitting snow-dust raised by the wind, which for a time so blinded me that i was unable to see the glacier. the measurement of the first stake was very tedious, but practice afterwards enabled me to take advantage of the brief lulls and periods of partial clearness with which the storm was interfused. [sidenote: a man in a crevasse. .] at nine o'clock my telescope happened to be directed upon the men as they struggled through the snow; all evidence of the deep track which they had formed yesterday having been swept away. i saw the leader sink and suddenly disappear. he had stood over a concealed fissure, the roof of which had given way and he had dropped in. i observed a rapid movement on the part of the remaining three men: they grouped themselves beside the fissure, and in a moment the missing man was drawn from between its jaws. his disappearance and reappearance were both extraordinary. we had, as i have stated, provided for contingencies of this kind, and the man's rescue was almost immediate. [sidenote: six-rayed crystals. .] my attendant brought two poles from the hotel which we thrust obliquely into the snow, causing the free ends to cross each other; over these a blanket was thrown, behind which i sheltered myself from the storm as the men proceeded from stake to stake. at . the storm was so thick that i was unable to see the men at the stake which they had reached at the time; the flakes sped wildly in their oblique course across the field of the telescope. some time afterwards the air became quite still, and the snow underwent a wonderful change. frozen flowers similar to those i had observed on monte rosa fell in myriads. for a long time the flakes were wholly composed of these exquisite blossoms entangled together. on the surface of my woollen dress they were soft as down; the snow itself on which they fell seemed covered by a layer of down; while my coat was completely spangled with six-rayed stars. and thus prodigal nature rained down beauty, and had done so here for ages unseen by man. and yet some flatter themselves with the idea that this world was planned with strict reference to human use; that the lilies of the field exist simply to appeal to the sense of the beautiful in man. true, this result is secured, but it is one of a thousand all equally important in the eyes of nature. whence those frozen blossoms? why for æons wasted? the question reminds one of the poet's answer when asked whence was the rhodora:-- "why wert thou there, o rival of the rose? i never thought to ask, i never knew; but in my simple ignorance suppose the selfsame power that brought me there brought you!"[a] i sketched some of the crystals, but, instead of reproducing these sketches, which were rough and hasty, i have annexed two of the forms drawn with so much skill and patience by mr. glaisher. [illustration: fig. . snow crystals.] [illustration: fig. . snow crystals.] we completed the measurement of the first line before eleven o'clock, and i felt great satisfaction in the thought that i possessed something of which the weather could not deprive me. as i closed my note-book and shifted the instrument to the second station, i felt that my expedition was already a success. at a quarter past eleven i had my theodolite again fixed, and ranging the telescope along the line of pickets, i saw them all standing. crossing the ice wilderness, and suggesting the operation of intelligence amid that scene of desolation, their appearance was pleasant to me. just before i commenced, a solitary jay perched upon the summit of an adjacent pine and watched me. the air was still at the time, and the snow fell heavily. the flowers moreover were magnificent, varying from about the twentieth of an inch to two lines in diameter, while, falling through the quiet air, their forms were perfect. adjacent to my theodolite was a stump of pine, from which i had the snow removed, in order to have something to kick my toes against when they became cold; and on the stump was placed a blanket to be used as a screen in case of need. while i remained at the station a layer of snow an inch thick fell upon this blanket, the whole layer being composed of these exquisite flowers. the atmosphere also was filled with them. from the clouds to the earth nature was busy marshalling her atoms, and putting to shame by the beauty of her structures the comparative barbarities of art. [sidenote: sound through the snow-storm. .] my men at length reached the first station, and the measurement commenced. the storm drifted up the valley, thickening all the air as it approached. denser and denser the flakes fell; but still, with care and tact i was able to follow my party to a distance of yards. i had not thought it possible to see so far through so dense a storm. at this distance also my voice could be heard, and my instructions understood; for once, as the man who took up the line stood behind his bâton and prevented its projection against the white snow, i called out to him to stand aside, and he promptly did so. throughout the entire measurement the snow never ceased falling, and some of the illusions which it produced were extremely singular. the distant boundary of the glacier appeared to rise to an extraordinary height, and the men wading through the snow appeared as if climbing up a wall. the labour along this line was still greater than on the former; on the steeper slopes especially the toil was great; for here the effort of the leader to lift his own body added itself to that of cutting his way through the snow. his footing i could see often yielded, and he slid back, checking his recession, however, by still plunging forward; thus, though the limbs were incessantly exerted, it was, for a time, a mere motion of vibration without any sensible translation. at the last stake the men shouted, "_nous avons finis!_" and i distinctly heard them through the falling snow. by this time i was quite covered with the crystals which clung to my wrapper. they also formed a heap upon my theodolite, rising over the spirit-levels and embracing the lower portion of the vertical arc. the work was done; i struck my theodolite and ascended to the hotel; the greatest depth of snow through which i waded reaching, when i stood erect, to within three inches of my breast. [sidenote: swift descent. .] the men returned; dinner was prepared and consumed; the disorder which we had created made good; the rooms were swept, the mattresses replaced, and the shutters fastened, where this was possible. we locked up the house, and with light hearts and lithe limbs commenced the descent. my aim now was to reach the source of the arveiron, to examine the water and inspect the vault. with this view we went straight down the mountain. the inclinations were often extremely steep, and down these we swept with an avalanche-velocity; indeed usually accompanied by an avalanche of our own creation. on one occasion balmat was for a moment overwhelmed by the descending mass: the guides were startled, but he emerged instantly. tairraz followed him, and i followed tairraz, all of us rolling in the snow at the bottom of the slope as if it were so much flour. my practice on the finsteraarhorn rendered me at home here. one of the porters could by no means be induced to try this flying mode of descent. simond carried my theodolite box, tied upon a crotchet on his back; and once, while shooting down a slope, he incautiously allowed a foot to get entangled; his momentum rolled him over and over down the incline, the theodolite emerging periodically from the snow during his successive revolutions. a succession of _glissades_ brought us with amazing celerity to the bottom of the mountain, whence we picked our way amid the covered boulders and over the concealed arms of the stream to the source of the arveiron. the quantity of water issuing from the vault was considerable, and its character that of true glacier water. it was turbid with suspended matter, though not so turbid as in summer; but the difference in force and quantity would, i think, be sufficient to account for the greater summer turbidity. this character of the water could only be due to the grinding motion of the glacier upon its bed; a motion which seems not to be suspended even in the depth of winter. the temperature of the water was the tenth of a degree centigrade above zero; that of the ice was half a degree below zero: this was also the temperature of the air, while that of the snow, which in some places covered the ice-blocks, was a degree and a quarter below zero. [sidenote: vault of the arveiron. .] the entrance to the vault was formed by an arch of ice which had detached itself from the general mass of the glacier behind: between them was a space through which we could look to the sky above. beyond this the cave narrowed, and we found ourselves steeped in the blue light of the ice. the roof of the inner arch was perforated at one place by a shaft about a yard wide, which ran vertically to the surface of the glacier. water had run down the sides of this shaft, and, being re-frozen below, formed a composite pillar of icicles at least twenty feet high and a yard thick, stretching quite from roof to floor. they were all united to a common surface at one side, but at the other they formed a series of flutings of exceeding beauty. this group of columns was bent at its base as if it had yielded to the forward motion of the glacier, or to the weight of the arch overhead. passing over a number of large ice-blocks which partially filled the interior of the vault, we reached its extremity, and here found a sloping passage with a perfect arch of crystal overhead, and leading by a steep gradient to the air above. this singular gallery was about seventy feet long, and was floored with snow. we crept up it, and from the summit descended by a glissade to the frontal portion of the cavern. to me this crystal cave, with the blue light glistening from its walls, presented an aspect of magical beauty. my delight, however, was tame compared with that of my companions. [sidenote: majestic scene. .] looking from the blue arch westwards, the heavens were seen filled by crimson clouds, with fiery outliers reaching up to the zenith. on quitting the vault i turned to have a last look at those noble sentinels of the mer de glace, the aiguille du dru, and the aiguille verte. the glacier below the mountains was in shadow, and its frozen precipices of a deep cold blue. from this, as from a basis, the mountain cones sprang steeply heavenward, meeting half way down the fiery light of the sinking sun. the right-hand slopes and edges of both pyramids burned in this light, while detached protuberant masses also caught the blaze, and mottled the mountains with effulgent spaces. a range of minor peaks ran slanting downwards from the summit of the aiguille verte; some of these were covered with snow, and shone as if illuminated with the deep crimson of a strontian flame. i was absolutely struck dumb by the extraordinary majesty of this scene, and watched it silently till the red light faded from the highest summits. thus ended my winter expedition to the mer de glace. next morning, starting at three o'clock, i was driven by my two guides in an open sledge to sallenches. the rain was pitiless and the road abominable. the distance, i believe, is only six leagues, but it took us five hours to accomplish it. the leading mule was beyond the reach of simond's whip, and proved a mere obstructive; during part of the way it was unloosed, tied to the sledge, and dragged after it. simond afterwards mounted the hindmost beast and brought his whip to bear upon the leader, the jerking he endured for an hour and a half seemed almost sufficient to dislocate his bones. we reached sallenches half an hour late, but the diligence was behind its time by this exact interval. we met it on the pont st. martin, and i transferred myself from the sledge to the interior. this was the morning of the th of december, and on the evening of the st of january i was in london. [sidenote: my assistants. .] i cannot finish this recital without saying one word about my men. their behaviour was admirable throughout. the labour was enormous, but it was manfully and cheerfully done. i know simond well; he is intelligent, truthful, and affectionate, and there is no guide of my acquaintance for whom i have a stronger regard. joseph tairraz is an extremely intelligent and able guide, and on this trying occasion proved himself worthy of my highest praise and commendation. their two companions upon the glacier, edouard balmat (le petit balmat) and joseph simond (fils d'auguste), acquitted themselves admirably; and it also gives me pleasure to bear testimony to the willing and efficient service of françois ravanal, who attended upon me during the observations. footnotes: [a] emerson. part ii. chiefly scientific. aber im stillen gemach entwirft bedeutende zirkel sinnend der weise, beschleicht forschend den schaffenden geist, prüft der stoffe gewalt, der magnete hassen und lieben, folgt durch die lüfte dem klang, folgt durch den aether dem strahl, sucht das vertraute gesetz in des zufalls grausenden wundern, sucht den ruhenden pol in der erscheinungen flucht. schiller. on light and heat. ( .) [sidenote: theories of light.] what is light? the ancients supposed it to be something emitted by the eyes, and for ages no notion was entertained that it required time to pass through space. in the year römer first proved that the light from jupiter's satellites required a certain time to cross the earth's orbit. bradley afterwards found that, owing to the velocity with which the earth flies through space, the rays of the stars are slightly inclined, just as rain-drops which descend vertically appear to meet us when we move swiftly through the shower. in kew gardens there is a sun-dial commemorative of this discovery, which is called the _aberration of light_. knowing the velocity of the earth, and the inclination of the stellar rays, bradley was able to calculate the velocity of light; and his result agrees closely with that of römer. celestial distances were here involved, but a few years ago m. fizeau, by an extremely ingenious contrivance, determined the time required by light to pass over a distance of about yards; and his experiment is quite in accordance with the results of his predecessors. but what is it which thus moves? some, and among the number newton, imagined light to consist of particles darted out from luminous bodies. this is the so-called emission-theory, which was held by some of the greatest men: laplace, for example, accepted it; and m. biot has developed it with a lucidity and power peculiar to himself. it was first opposed by the astronomer huyghens, and afterwards by euler, both of whom supposed light to be a kind of undulatory motion; but they were borne down by their great antagonists, and the emission-theory held its ground until the commencement of the present century, when thomas young, professor of natural philosophy in the royal institution, reversed the scientific creed by placing the theory of undulation on firm foundations. he was followed by a young frenchman of extraordinary genius, who, by the force of his logic and the conclusiveness of his experiments, left the wave-theory without a competitor. the name of this young frenchman was augustin fresnel. since his time some of the ablest minds in europe have been applied to the investigation of this subject; and thus a mastery, almost miraculous, has been attained over the grandest and most subtle of natural phenomena. true knowledge is always fruitful, and a clear conception regarding any one natural agent leads infallibly to better notions regarding others. thus it is that our knowledge of light has corrected and expanded our knowledge of _heat_, while the latter, in its turn, will assuredly lead us to clearer conceptions regarding the other forces of nature. i think it will not be a useless labour if i here endeavour to state, in a simple manner, our present views of light and heat. such knowledge is essential to the explanation of many of the phenomena referred to in the foregoing pages; and even to the full comprehension of the origin of the glaciers themselves. a few remarks on the nature of sound will form a fit introduction. [sidenote: nature of sound.] it is known that sound is conveyed to our organs of hearing by the air: a bell struck in a vacuum emits no sound, and even when the air is thin the sound is enfeebled. hawksbee proved this by the air-pump; de saussure fired a pistol at the top of mont blanc,--i have repeated the experiment myself, and found, with him, that the sound is feebler than at the sea level. sound is not produced by anything projected through the air. the explosion of a gun, for example, is sent forward by a motion of a totally different kind from that which animates the bullet projected from the gun: the latter is a motion of _translation_; the former, one of _vibration_. to use a rough comparison, sound is projected through the air as a push is through a crowd; it is the propagation of a _wave_ or _pulse_, each particle taking up the motion of its neighbour, and delivering it on to the next. these aërial waves enter the external ear, meet a membrane, the so-called tympanic membrane, which is drawn across the passage at a certain place, and break upon it as sea-waves do upon the shore. the membrane is shaken, its tremors are communicated to the auditory nerve, and transmitted by it to the brain, where they produce the impression to which we give the name of sound. [sidenote: cause of music.] in the tumult of a city, pulses of different kinds strike irregularly upon the tympanum, and we call the effect _noise_; but when a succession of impulses reach the ear _at regular intervals_ we feel the effect as _music_. thus, a vibrating string imparts a series of shocks to the air around it, which are transmitted with perfect regularity to the ear, and produce a _musical note_. when we hear the song of a soaring lark we may be sure that the entire atmosphere between us and the bird is filled with pulses, or undulations, or waves, as they are often called, produced by the little songster's organ of voice. this organ is a vibrating instrument, resembling, in principle, the reed of a clarionet. let us suppose that we hear the song of a lark, elevated to a height of feet in the air. before this is possible, the bird must have agitated a sphere of air feet in diameter; that is to say, it must have communicated to , tons of air a motion sufficiently intense to be appreciated by our organs of hearing. [sidenote: cause of pitch.] musical sounds differ in _pitch_: some notes are high and shrill, others low and deep. boys are chosen as choristers to produce the shrill notes; men are chosen to produce the bass notes. now, the sole difference here is, that the boy's organ vibrates _more rapidly_ than the man's--it sends a greater number of impulses per second to the ear. in like manner, a short string emits a higher note than a long one, because it vibrates more quickly. the greater the number of vibrations which any instrument performs in a given time, the higher will be the pitch of the note produced. the reason why the hum of a gnat is shriller than that of a beetle is that the wings of the small insect vibrate more quickly than those of the larger one. we can, with suitable arrangements, make those sonorous vibrations visible to the eye;[a] and we also possess instruments which enable us to tell, with the utmost exactitude, the number of vibrations due to any particular note. by such instruments we learn that a gnat can execute many thousand flaps of its little wings in a second of time. [sidenote: nature of light.] in the study of nature the coarser phenomena, which come under the cognizance of the senses, often suggest to us the finer phenomena which come under the cognizance of the mind; and thus the vibrations which produce sound, and which, as has been stated, can be rendered visible to the eye by proper means, first suggested that _light_ might be due to a somewhat similar action. this is now the universal belief. a luminous body is supposed to have its atoms, or molecules, in a state of intense vibration. the motions of the atoms are supposed to be communicated to a medium suited to their transmission, as air is to the transmission of sound. this medium is called the _luminiferous ether_, and the little billows excited in it speed through it with amazing celerity, enter the pupil of the eye, pass through the humours, and break upon the retina or optic nerve, which is spread out at the back of the eye. hence the tremors they produce are transmitted along the nerve to the brain, where they announce themselves as _light_. the swiftness with which the waves of light are propagated through the ether, is however enormously greater than that with which the waves of sound pass through the air. an aërial wave of sound travels at about the rate of feet in a second: a wave of light leaves , miles behind it in the same time. [sidenote: cause of colour.] thus, then, in the case of sound, we have the sonorous body, the air, and the auditory nerve, concerned in the phenomenon; in the case of light, we have the luminous body, the ether, and the optic nerve. the fundamental analogy of sound and light is thus before us, and it is easily remembered. but we must push the analogy further. we know that the white light which comes to us from the sun is made up of an infinite number of coloured rays. by refraction with a prism we can separate those rays from each other, and arrange them in the series of colours which constitute the solar spectrum. the rainbow is an imperfect or _impure_ spectrum, produced by the drops of falling rain, but by prisms we can unravel the white light into pure red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. now, this spectrum is to the eye what the gamut is to the ear; each colour represents a note, and _the different colours represent notes of different pitch_. the vibrations which produce the impression of red are _slower_, and the waves which they produce are _longer_, than those to which we owe the sensation of violet; while the vibrations which excite the other colours are intermediate between these two extremes. this, then, is the second grand analogy between light and sound: _colour answers to pitch_. there is therefore truth in the figure when we say that the gentian of the alps sings a shriller note than the wild rhododendron, and that the red glow of the mountains at sunset is of a lower pitch than the blue of the firmament at noon. [sidenote: length of ethereal waves.] these are not fanciful analogies. to the mind of the philosopher these waves of ether are almost as palpable and certain as the waves of the sea, or the ripples on the surface of a lake. the length of the waves, both of sound and light, and the number of shocks which they respectively impart to the ear and eye, have been the subjects of the strictest measurement. let us here go through a simple calculation. it has been found that , waves of red light placed end to end would make up an inch. how many inches are there in , miles? my youngest reader can make the calculation for himself, and find the answer to be , , , inches. it is evident that, if we multiply this number by , , we shall obtain the number of waves of red light in , miles; this number is , , , , . _all these waves enter the eye in one second_; thus the expression "i see red colour," strictly means, "my eye is now in receipt of four hundred and seventy-four millions of millions of impulses per second." to produce the impression of violet light a still greater number of impulses is necessary; the wave-length of violet is the / th part of an inch, and the number of shocks imparted in a second by waves of this length is, in round numbers, six hundred and ninety-nine millions of millions. the other colours of the spectrum, as already stated, rise gradually in pitch from the red to the violet. a very curious analogy between the eye and ear may here be noticed. the range of seeing is different in different persons--some see a longer spectrum than others; that is to say, rays which are obscure to some are luminous to others. dr. wollaston pointed out a similar fact as regards hearing; the range of which differs in different individuals. savart has shown that a good ear can hear a musical note produced by shocks in a second; it can also hear a note produced by , shocks in a second; but there are ears in which the range is much more limited. it is possible indeed to produce a sound which shall be painfully shrill to one person, while it is quite unheard by another. i once crossed a swiss mountain in company with a friend; a donkey was in advance of us, and the dull tramp of the animal was plainly heard by my companion; but to me this sound was almost masked by the shrill chirruping of innumerable insects which thronged the adjacent grass; my friend heard nothing of this, it lay quite beyond his range of hearing. a third and most important analogy between sound and light is now to be noted; and it will be best understood by reference to something more tangible than either. when a stone is thrown into calm water a series of rings spread themselves around the centre of disturbance. if a second stone be thrown in at some distance from the first, the rings emanating from both centres will cross each other, and at those points where the ridge of one wave coincides with the ridge of another the water will be lifted to a greater height. at those points, on the contrary, where the ridge of one wave crosses the furrow of another, we have both obliterated, and the water restored to its ordinary level. where two ridges or two furrows unite, we have a case of _coincidence_; but where a ridge and a furrow unite we have what is called _interference_. it is quite possible to send two systems of waves into the same channel, and to hold back one system a little, so that its ridges shall coincide with the furrows of the other system. the "interference" would be here complete, and the waves thus circumstanced would mutually destroy each other, smooth water being the result. in this way, by the addition of motion to motion, _rest_ may be produced. [sidenote: light added to light makes darkness.] in a precisely similar manner two systems of sonorous waves can be caused to interfere and mutually to destroy each other: thus, by adding sound to sound, _silence_ may be produced. two beams of light also may be caused to interfere and effect their mutual extinction: thus, by adding light to light, we can produce _darkness_. here indeed we have a critical analogy between sound and light--_the_ one, in fact, which compels the most profound thinkers of the present day to assume that light, like sound, is a case of undulatory motion. we see here the vision of the intellect prolonged beyond the boundaries of sense into the region of what might be considered mere imagination. but, unlike other imaginations, we can bring ours to the test of experiment; indeed, so great a mastery have we obtained over these waves, which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, that we can with mathematical certainty cause them to coincide or to interfere, to help each other or to destroy each other, at pleasure. it is perhaps possible to be a little more precise here. let two stones--with a small distance between them--be dropped into water at the same moment; a system of circular waves will be formed round each stone. let the distance from one little crest to the next following one be called _the length of the wave_, and now let us inquire what will take place at a point equally distant from the places where the two stones were dropped in. fixing our attention upon the ridge of the first wave in each case, it is manifest that, as the water propagates both systems with the same velocity, the two foremost ridges will reach the point in question at the same moment; the ridge of one would therefore coincide with the ridge of the other, and the water at this point would be lifted to a height greater than that of either of the previous ridges. [sidenote: coincidence and interference.] again, supposing that by any means we had it in our power to retard one system of waves so as to cause the first ridge of the one to be exactly one wave length behind the first ridge of the other, when they arrive at the point referred to. it is plain that the first ridge of the retarded system now falls in with the second ridge of the unretarded system, and we have another case of coincidence. a little reflection will show the same to be true when one system is retarded any number of _whole wave-lengths_; the first ridge of the retarded system will always, at the point referred to, coincide with a _ridge_ of the unretarded system. but now suppose the one system to be retarded only _half a wave-length_; it is perfectly clear that, in this case the first ridge of the retarded system would fall in with the first _furrow_ of the unretarded system, and instead of coincidence we should have interference. one system, in fact, would tend to make a hollow at the point referred to, the other would tend to make a hill, and thus the two systems would oppose and neutralize each other, so that neither the hollow nor the hill would be produced; the water would maintain its ordinary level. what is here said of a single half-wave-length of retardation, is also true if the retardation amount to any _odd_ number of half-wave-lengths. in all such cases we should have the ridge of the one system falling in with the furrow of the other; a mutual destruction of the waves of both systems being the consequence. the same remarks apply when the point, instead of being equally distant from both stones, is an even or an odd number of semi-undulations farther from the one than from the other. in the former case we should have coincidence, and in the latter case interference, at the point in question. [sidenote: liquid waves.] to the eye of a person who understands these things, nothing can be more interesting than the rippling of water under certain circumstances. by the action of interference its surface is sometimes shivered into the most beautiful mosaic, shifting and trembling as if with a kind of visible music. when the tide advances over a sea-beach on a calm and sunny day, and its tiny ripples enter, at various points, the clear shallow pools which the preceding tide had left behind, the little wavelets run and climb and cross each other, and thus form a lovely _chasing_, which has its counterpart in the lines of light converged by the ripples upon the sand underneath. when waves are skilfully generated in a vessel of mercury, and a strong light reflected from the surface of the metal is received upon a screen, the most beautiful effects may be observed. the shape of the vessel determines, in part, the character of the figures produced; in a circular dish of mercury, for example, a disturbance at the centre propagates itself in circular waves, which after reflection again encircle the centre. if the point of disturbance be a little removed from the centre, the intersections of the direct and reflected waves produce the magnificent chasing shown in the annexed figure ( ), which i have borrowed from the excellent work on waves by the messrs. weber. the luminous figure reflected from such a surface is exceedingly beautiful. when the mercury is lightly struck by a glass point, in a direction concentric with the circumference of the vessel, the lines of light run round the vessel in mazy coils, interlacing and unravelling themselves in the most wonderful manner. if the vessel be square, a splendid mosaic is produced by the crossing of the direct and reflected waves. description, however, can give but a feeble idea of these exquisite effects;-- "thou canst not wave thy staff in the air, or dip thy paddle in the lake, but it carves the brow of beauty there, and the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake." [sidenote: chasing produced by waves.] [illustration: fig. . chasing produced by waves.] [sidenote: effect of retardation.] now, all that we have said regarding the retardation of the waves of water, by a whole undulation and a semi-undulation, is perfectly applicable to the case of light. two luminous points may be placed near to each other so as to resemble the two stones dropped into the water; and when the light of these is properly received upon a screen, or directly upon the retina, we find that at some places the action of the rays upon each other produces darkness, and at others augmented light. the former places are those where the rays emitted from one point are an _odd_ number of semi-undulations in advance of the rays sent from the other; the latter places are those where the difference of path described by the rays is either nothing, or an _even_ number of semi-undulations. supposing _a_ and _b_ (fig. ) to be two such sources of light, and s r a screen on which the light falls; at a point _l_, equally distant from _a_ and _b_, we have _light_; at a point _d_, where _a d_ is half an undulation longer than _b d_, we have darkness; at _l'_, where _a l'_ is a whole wave-length, or two semi-undulations, longer than _b l'_, we again have light; and at a point _d'_, where the difference is three semi-undulations, we have darkness; and thus we obtain a series of bright and dark spaces as we recede laterally from the central point _l_. [illustration: fig. . diagram explanatory of interference.] let a bit of tin foil be closely pasted upon a piece of glass, and the edge of a penknife drawn across the foil so as to produce a slit. looking through this slit at a small and distant light, we find the light spread out in a direction at right angles to the slit, and if the light looked at be _monochromatic_, that is, composed of a single colour, we shall have a series of bright and dark bars corresponding to the points at which the rays from the different points of the slit alternately coincide and interfere upon the retina. by properly drawing a knife across a sheet of letter-paper a suitable slit may also be obtained; and those practised in such things can obtain the effect by looking through their fingers or their eyelashes. [illustration: interference spectra, produced by diffraction. fig. . _to face_ p. .] [sidenote: chromatic effects.] but if the light looked at be white, the light of a candle for example, or of a jet of gas, instead of having a series of bright and dark bars, we have the bars _coloured_. and see how beautifully this harmonizes with what has been already said regarding the different lengths of the waves which produce different colours. looking again at fig. we see that a certain obliquity is necessary to cause one ray to be a whole undulation in advance of the other at the point _l'_; but it is perfectly manifest that the obliquity must depend upon the length of the undulation; a long undulation would require a greater obliquity than a short one; red light, for example, requires a greater obliquity than blue light; so that if the point _l'_ represents the place where the first bar of red light would be at its maximum strength, the maximum for blue would lie a little to the left of _l'_; the different colours are in this way separated from each other, and exhibit themselves as distinct fringes when a distant source of white light is regarded through a narrow slit. by varying the shape of the aperture we alter the form of the chromatic image. a circular aperture, for example, placed in front of a telescope through which a point of white light is regarded, is seen surrounded by a concentric system of coloured rings. if we multiply our slits or apertures the phenomena augment in complexity and splendour. to give some notion of this i have copied from the excellent work of m. schwerd the annexed figure (fig. ) which represents the gorgeous effect observed when a distant point of light is looked at through two gratings with slits of different widths.[b] a bird's feather represents a peculiar system of slits, and the effect observed on properly looking through it is extremely interesting. [sidenote: colours of thin films.] there are many ways by which the retardation necessary to the production of interference is effected. the splendid colours of a soap-bubble are entirely due to interference; the beam falling upon the transparent film is partially reflected at its outer surface, but a portion of it enters the film and is reflected at its _inner_ surface. the latter portion having crossed the film and returned, is retarded, in comparison with the former, and, if the film be of suitable thickness, these two beams will clash and extinguish each other, while another thickness will cause the beams to coincide and illuminate the film with a light of greater intensity. from what has been said it must be manifest that to make two red beams thus coincide a thicker film would be required than would be necessary for two blue or green beams; thus, when the thickness of the bubble is suitable for the development of red, it is not suitable for the development of green, blue, &c.; the consequence is that we have different colours at different parts of the bubble. owing to its compactness and to its being shaded by a covering of débris from the direct heat of the sun, the ice underneath the moraines of glaciers appears sometimes of a pitchy blackness. while cutting such ice with my axe i have often been surprised and delighted by sudden flashes of coloured light which broke like fire from the mass. these flashes were due to internal rupture, by which fissures were produced as thin as the film of a soap-bubble; the colours being due to the interference of the light reflected from the opposite sides of the fissures. if spirit of turpentine, or olive oil, be thrown upon water, it speedily spreads in a thin film over the surface, and the most gorgeous chromatic phenomena may be thus produced. oil of lemons is also peculiarly suited to this experiment. if water be placed in a tea-tray, and light of sufficient intensity be suffered to fall upon it, this light will be reflected from the upper and under surfaces of the film of oil, and the colours thus produced may be received upon a screen, and seen at once by many hundred persons. if the oil of cinnamon be used, fine colours are also obtained, and the breaking up of this film exhibits a most interesting case of molecular action. by using a kind of varnish, instead of oil, mr. delarue has imparted such tenacity to these films that they may be removed from the water on which they rest and preserved for any length of time. by such films the colours of certain beetles, and of the wings of certain insects, may be accurately imitated; and a rook's feather may be made to shine with magnificent iridescences. the colours of tempered metals, and the beautiful metallochrome of nobili are also due to a similar cause. [sidenote: diffraction.] these colours are called the colours of _thin plates_, and are distinguished in treatises on optics from the coloured bars and fringes above referred to, which are produced by _diffraction_, or the bending of the waves round the edge of an object. one result of this bending, which is of interest to us, was obtained by the celebrated thomas young. permitting a beam of sunlight to enter a dark room through an aperture made with a fine needle, and placing in the path of the beam a bit of card one-thirtieth of an inch wide, he found the shadow of this card, or rather the line on which its shadow might be supposed to fall, always _bright_; and he proved the effect to be due to the bending of the waves of ether round the two edges of the card, and their coincidence at the other side. it has, indeed, been shown by m. poisson, that the centre of the shadow of a small circular opaque disk which stands in the way of a beam diverging from a point is exactly as much illuminated as if the disk were absent. the singular effects described by m. necker in the letter quoted at page at once suggest themselves here; and we see how possible it is for the solar rays, in grazing a distant tree, so to bend round it as to produce upon the retina, where shadow might be expected, the impression of a tree of light.[c] another effect of diffraction is especially interesting to us at present. let the seed of lycopodium be scattered over a glass plate, or even like a cloud in the air, and let a distant point of light be regarded through it; the luminous point will appear surrounded by a series of coloured rings, and when the light is intense, like the electric or the drummond light, the effect is exceedingly fine. [sidenote: cloud iridescence, etc., explained.] and now for the application of these experiments. i have already mentioned a series of coloured rings observed around the sun by mr. huxley and myself from the rhone glacier; i have also referred to the cloud iridescences on the aletschhorn; and to the colours observed during my second ascent of monte rosa, the magnificence of which is neither to be rendered by pigments nor described in words. all these splendid phenomena are, i believe, produced by diffraction, the vesicles or spherules of water in the case of the cloud acting the part of the sporules in the case of the lycopodium. the coloured fringe which surrounds the _spirit of the brocken_, and the spectra which i have spoken of as surrounding the sun, are also produced by diffraction. by the interference of their rays in the earth's atmosphere the stars can momentarily quench themselves; and probably to an intermittent action of this kind their twinkling, and the swift chromatic changes already mentioned, are due. does not all this sound more like a fairy tale than the sober conclusions of science? what effort of the imagination could transcend the realities here presented to us? the ancients had their spheral melodies, but have not we ours, which only want a sense sufficiently refined to hear them? immensity is filled with this music; wherever a star sheds its light its notes are heard. our sun, for example, thrills concentric waves through space, and every luminous point that gems our skies is surrounded by a similar system. i have spoken of the rising, climbing and crossing of the tiny ripples of a calm tide upon a smooth strand; but what are they to those intersecting ripples of the "uncontinented deep" by which infinity is engine-turned! crossing solar and stellar distances, they bring us the light of sun and stars; thrilled back from our atmosphere, they give us the blue radiance of the sky; rounding liquid spherules, they clash at the other side, and the survivors of the tumult bear to our vision the wondrous cloud-dyes of monte rosa. footnotes: [a] the vibrations of the air of a room in which a musical instrument is sounded may be made manifest by the way in which fine sand arranges itself upon a thin stretched membrane over which it is strewn; and indeed savart has thus rendered visible the vibrations of the tympanum itself. every trace of sand was swept from a paper drum held in the clock-tower of westminster when the great bell was sounded. another way of showing the propagation of aërial pulses is to insert a small gas jet into a vertical glass tube about a foot in length, in which the flame may be caused to burn tranquilly. on pitching the voice to the note of an open tube a foot long, the little flame quivers, stretches itself, and responds by producing a clear melodious note of the same pitch as that which excited it. the flame will continue its song for hours without intermission. [b] i am not aware whether in his own country, or in any other, a recognition at all commensurate with the value of the performance has followed schwerd's admirable essay entitled 'the phenomena of diffraction deduced from the theory of undulation.' [c] i think, however, that the strong irradiation from the glistening sides of the twigs and branches must also contribute to the result. [sidenote: radiant heat.] ( .) thus, then, we have been led from sound to light, and light now in its turn will lead us to _radiant heat_; for in the order in which they are here mentioned the conviction arose that they are all three different kinds of motion. it has been said that the beams of the sun consist of rays of different colours, but this is not a complete statement of the case. the sun emits a multitude of rays which are perfectly non-luminous; and the same is true, in a still greater degree, of our artificial sources of illumination. measured by the quantity of heat which they produce, per cent. of the rays emanating from a flame of oil are obscure; while out of every of those which emanate from an alcohol flame are of the same description.[a] [sidenote: obscure rays.] in fact, the visible solar spectrum simply embraces an interval of rays of which the eye is formed to take cognizance, but it by no means marks the limits of solar action. beyond the violet end of the spectrum we have obscure rays capable of producing chemical changes, and beyond the red we have rays possessing a high heating power, but incapable of exciting the impression of light. this latter fact was first established by sir william herschel, and it has been amply corroborated since. the belief now universally prevalent is, that the rays of heat differ from the rays of light simply as one colour differs from another. as the waves which produce red are longer than those which produce yellow, so the waves which produce this obscure heat are longer than those which produce red. in fact, it may be shown that the longest waves never reach the retina at all; they are completely absorbed by the humours of the eye. what is true of the sun's obscure rays is also true of calorific rays emanating from any obscure source,--from our own bodies, for example, or from the surface of a vessel containing boiling water. we must, in fact, figure a warm body also as having its particles in a state of vibration. when these motions are communicated from particle to particle of the body the heat is said to be _conducted_; when, on the contrary, the particles transmit their vibrations through the surrounding ether, the heat is said to be _radiant_. this radiant heat, though obscure, exhibits a deportment exactly similar to light. it may be refracted and reflected, and collected in the focus of a mirror or of a suitable lens. the principle of interference also applies to it, so that by adding heat to heat we can produce _cold_. the identity indeed is complete throughout, and, recurring to the analogy of sound, we might define this radiant heat to be light of too low a pitch to be visible. i have thus far spoken of _obscure_ heat only; but the selfsame ray may excite both light and heat. the red rays of the spectrum possess a very high heating power. it was once supposed that the heat of the spectrum was an essence totally distinct from its light; but a profounder knowledge dispels this supposition, and leads us to infer that the selfsame ray, falling upon the nerves of feeling, excites heat, and falling upon the nerves of seeing, excites light. as the same electric current, if sent round a magnetic needle, along a wire, and across a conducting liquid, produces different physical effects, so also the same agent acting upon different organs of the body affects our consciousness differently. footnotes: [a] melloni. ( .) [sidenote: heat a kind of motion.] heat has been defined in the foregoing section as a motion of the molecules or atoms of a body; but though the evidence in favour of this view is at present overwhelming, i do not ask the reader to accept it as a certainty, if he feels sceptically disposed. in this case, i would only ask him to accept it as a symbol. regarded as a mere physical image, a kind of paper-currency of the mind, convertible, in due time, into the gold of truth, the hypothesis will be found exceedingly useful. all known bodies possess more or less of this molecular motion, and all bodies are communicating it to the ether in which they are immersed. ice possesses it. ice before it melts attains a temperature of ° fahr., but the substance in winter often possesses a temperature far below °, so that in rising to ° it is _warmed_. in experimenting with ice i have often had occasion to cool it to ° and more below the freezing point, and to warm it afterwards up to °. if then we stand before a wall of ice, the wall radiates heat to us, and we also radiate heat to it; but the quantity which we radiate being greater than that which the ice radiates, we lose more than we gain, and are consequently chilled. if, on the contrary, we stand before a warm stove, a system of exchanges also takes place; but here the quantity we receive is in excess of the quantity lost, and we are warmed by the difference. in like manner the earth radiates heat by day and by night into space, and against the sun, moon, and stars. by day, however, the quantity received is greater than the quantity lost, and the earth is warmed; by night the conditions are reversed; the earth radiates more heat than is sent to her by the moon and stars, and she is consequently cooled. but here an important point is to be noted:--the earth receives the heat of the sun, moon, and stars, in great part as _luminous_ heat, but she gives it out as _obscure_ heat. i do not now speak of the heat reflected by the earth into space, as the light of the moon is to us; but of the heat which, after it has been absorbed by the earth, and has contributed to warm it, is radiated into space, as if the earth itself were its independent source. thus we may properly say that the heat radiated from the earth is _different in quality_ from that which the earth has received from the sun. [sidenote: qualities of heat.] in one particular especially does this difference of quality show itself; besides being non-luminous, the heat radiated from the earth is more easily intercepted and absorbed by almost all transparent substances. a vast portion of the sun's rays, for example, can pass instantaneously through a thick sheet of water; gunpowder could easily be fired by the heat of the sun's rays converged by passing through a thick water lens; the drops upon leaves in greenhouses often act as lenses, and cause the sun to burn the leaves upon which they rest. but with regard to the rays of heat emanating from an obscure source, they are all absorbed by a layer of water less than the th of an inch in thickness: water is opaque to such rays, and cuts them off almost as effectually as a metallic screen. the same is true of other liquids, and also of many transparent solids. [sidenote: the atmosphere like a ratchet.] assuming the same to be true of gaseous bodies, that they also intercept the obscure rays much more readily than the luminous ones, it would follow that while the sun's rays penetrate our atmosphere with freedom, the change which they undergo in warming the earth deprives them in a measure of this penetrating power. they can reach the earth, but _they cannot get back_; thus the atmosphere acts the part of a ratchet-wheel in mechanics; it allows of motion in one direction, but prevents it in the other. de saussure, fourier, m. pouillet, and mr. hopkins have developed this speculation, and drawn from it consequences of the utmost importance; but it nevertheless rested upon a basis of conjecture. indeed some of the eminent men above-named deemed its truth beyond the possibility of experimental verification. melloni showed that for a distance of or feet the absorption of obscure rays by the atmosphere was absolutely inappreciable. hence, the _total_ absorption being so small as to elude even melloni's delicate tests, it was reasonable to infer that _differences_ of absorption, if such existed at all, must be far beyond the reach of the finest means which we could apply to detect them. [sidenote: differences of absorption by gases.] this exclusion of one of the three states of material aggregation from the region of experiment was, however, by no means satisfactory; for our right to infer, from the deportment of a solid or a liquid towards radiant heat, the deportment of a gas, is by no means evident. in both liquids and solids we have the molecules closely packed, and more or less chained by the force of cohesion; in gases, on the contrary, they are perfectly free, and widely separated. how do we know that the interception of radiant heat by liquids and solids may not be due to an arrangement and comparative rigidity of their parts, which gases do not at all share? the assumption which took no note of such a possibility seemed very insecure, and called for verification. my interest in this question was augmented by the fact, that the assumption referred to lies, as will be seen, at the root of the glacier question. i therefore endeavoured to fill the gap, and to do for gases and vapours what had been already so ably done for liquids and solids by melloni. i tried the methods heretofore pursued, and found them unavailing; oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and atmospheric air, examined by such methods, showed no action upon radiant heat. nature was dumb, but the question occurred, "had she been addressed in the proper language?" if the experimentalist is convinced of this, he will rest content even with a negative; but the absence of this conviction is always a source of discomfort, and a stimulus to try again. the principle of the method finally applied is all that can here be referred to; and it, i hope, will be quite intelligible. two beams of heat, from two distinct sources, were allowed to fall upon the same instrument,[a] and to contend there for mastery. when both beams were perfectly equal, they completely neutralized each other's action; but when one of them was in any sensible degree stronger than the other, the predominance of the former was shown by the instrument. it was so arranged that one of the conflicting beams passed through a tube which could be exhausted of air, or filled with any gas; thus varying at pleasure the medium through which it passed. the question then was, supposing the two beams to be equal when the tube was filled with air, will the exhausting of the tube disturb the equality? the answer was affirmative; the instrument at once showed that a greater quantity of heat passed through the vacuum than through the air. the experiment was so arranged that the effect thus produced was very large as measured by the indications of the instrument. but the action of the simple gases, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen, was incomparably less than that produced by some of the compound gases, while these latter again differed widely from each other. vapours exhibited differences of equal magnitude. the experiments indeed proved that gaseous bodies varied among themselves, as to their power of transmitting radiant heat, just as much as liquids and solids. it was in the highest degree interesting to observe how a gas or vapour of perfect transparency, as regards light, acted like an opaque screen upon the heat. to the eye, the gas within the tube might be as invisible as the air itself, while to the radiant heat it behaved like a cloud which it was almost impossible to penetrate. [sidenote: selected heat.] applying the same method, i have found that from the sun, from the electric light, or from the lime-light, a large amount of heat can be selected, which is unaffected not only by air, but by the most energetic gases that experiment has revealed to me; while this same heat, when it has its _quality_ changed by being rendered obscure, is powerfully intercepted. thus the bold and beautiful speculation above referred to has been made an experimental fact; the radiant heat of the sun does certainly pass through the atmosphere to the earth with greater facility than the radiant heat of the earth can escape into space. [sidenote: possible heat of neptune.] it is probable that, were the earth unfurnished with this atmospheric swathing, its conditions of temperature would be such as to render it uninhabitable by man; and it is also probable that a suitable atmosphere enveloping the most distant planet might render it, as regards temperature, perfectly habitable. if the planet neptune, for example, be surrounded by an atmosphere which permits the solar and stellar rays to pass towards the planet, but cuts off the escape of the warmth which they excite, it is easy to see that such an accumulation of heat may at length take place as to render the planet a comfortable habitation for beings constituted like ourselves.[b] but let us not wander too far from our own concerns. where radiant heat is allowed to fall upon an absorbing substance, a certain thickness of the latter is always necessary for the absorption. supposing we place a thin film of glass before a source of heat, a certain percentage of the heat will pass through the glass, and the remainder will be absorbed. let the transmitted portion fall upon a second film similar to the first, a smaller percentage than before will be absorbed. a third plate would absorb still less, a fourth still less; and, after having passed through a sufficient number of layers, the heat would be so _sifted_ that all the rays capable of being absorbed by glass would be abstracted from it. suppose all these films to be placed together so as to form a single thick plate of glass, it is evident that the plate must act upon the heat which falls upon it, in such a manner that the major portion is absorbed _near the surface at which the heat enters_. this has been completely verified by experiment. [sidenote: cold of upper atmosphere.] applying this to the heat radiated from the earth, it is manifest that the greatest quantity of this heat will be absorbed by the lowest atmospheric strata. and here we find ourselves brought, by considerations apparently remote, face to face with the fact upon which the existence of all glaciers depends, namely, the comparative coldness of the upper regions of the atmosphere. the sun's rays can pass in a great measure through these regions without heating them; and the earth's rays, which they might absorb, hardly reach them at all, but are intercepted by the lower portions of the atmosphere.[c] another cause of the greater coldness of the higher atmosphere is the expansion of the denser air of the lower strata when it ascends. the dense air makes room for itself by pushing back the lighter and less elastic air which surrounds it: _it does work_, and, to perform this work, a certain amount of heat must be consumed. it is the consumption of this heat--its absolute annihilation as heat--that chills the expanded air, and to this action a share of the coldness of the higher atmosphere must undoubtedly be ascribed. a third cause of the difference of temperature is the large amount of heat communicated, _by way of contact_, to the air of the earth's surface; and a fourth and final cause is the loss endured by the highest strata through radiation into space. footnotes: [a] the opposite faces of a thermo-electric pile. [b] see a most interesting paper on this subject by mr. hopkins in the cambridge 'transactions,' may, . [c] see m. pouillet's important memoir on solar radiation. taylor's scientific memoirs, vol. iv. p. . origin of glaciers. ( .) [sidenote: the snow-line.] having thus accounted for the greater cold of the higher atmospheric regions, its consequences are next to be considered. one of these is, that clouds formed in the lower portions of the atmosphere, in warm and temperate latitudes, usually discharge themselves upon the earth as rain; while those formed in the higher regions discharge themselves upon the mountains as snow. the snow of the higher atmosphere is often melted to rain in passing through the warmer lower strata: nothing indeed is more common than to pass, in descending a mountain, from snow to rain; and i have already referred to a case of this kind. the appearance of the grassy and pine-clad alps, as seen from the valleys after a wet night, is often strikingly beautiful; the level at which the snow turned to rain being distinctly marked upon the slopes. above this level the mountains are white, while below it they are green. the eye follows this _snow-line_ with ease along the mountains, and when a sufficient extent of country is commanded its regularity is surprising. the term "snow-line," however, which has been here applied to a local and temporary phenomenon, is commonly understood to mean something else. in the case just referred to it marked the place where the supply of solid matter from the upper atmospheric regions, during a single fall, was exactly equal to its consumption; but the term is usually understood to mean the line along which the quantity of snow which falls _annually_ is melted, and no more. below this line each year's snow is completely cleared away by the summer heat; above it a residual layer abides, which gradually augments in thickness from the snow-line upwards. [sidenote: mountains unloaded by glaciers.] here then we have a fresh layer laid on every year; and it is evident that, if this process continued without interruption, every mountain which rises above the snow-line must augment annually in height; the waters of the sea thus piled, in a solid form, upon the summits of the hills, would raise the latter to an indefinite elevation. but, as might be expected, the snow upon steep mountain-sides frequently slips and rolls down in avalanches into warmer regions, where it is reduced to water. a comparatively small quantity of the snow is, however, thus got rid of, and the great agent which nature employs to relieve her overladen mountains is the glaciers. let us here avoid an error which may readily arise out of the foregoing reflections. the principal region of clouds and rain and snow extends only to a limited distance upwards in the atmosphere; the highest regions contain very little moisture, and were our mountains sufficiently lofty to penetrate those regions, the quantity of snow falling upon their summits would be too trifling to resist the direct action of the solar rays. these would annually clear the summits to a certain level, and hence, were our mountains high enough, we should have a superior, as well as an inferior, snow-line; the region of perpetual snow would form a belt, below which, in summer, snowless valleys and plains would extend, and above which snowless summits would rise. ( .) [sidenote: white and blue ice.] at its origin then a glacier is snow--at its lower extremity it is ice. the blue blocks that arch the source of the arveiron were once powdery snow upon the slopes of the col du géant. could our vision penetrate into the body of the glacier, we should find that the change from white to blue essentially consists in the gradual expulsion of the air which was originally entangled in the meshes of the fallen snow. whiteness always results from the intimate and irregular mixture of air and a transparent solid; a crushed diamond would resemble snow; if we pound the most transparent rock-salt into powder we have a substance as white as the whitest culinary salt; and the colourless glass vessel which holds the salt would also, if pounded, give a powder as white as the salt itself. it is a law of light that in passing from one substance to another possessing a different power of refraction, a portion of it is always reflected. hence when light falls upon a transparent solid mixed with air, at each passage of the light from the air to the solid and from the solid to the air a portion of it is reflected; and, in the case of a powder, this reflection occurs so frequently that the passage of the light is practically cut off. thus, from the mixture of two perfectly transparent substances, we obtain an opaque one; from the intimate mixture of air and water we obtain foam; clouds owe their opacity to the same principle; and the condensed steam of a locomotive casts a shadow upon the fields adjacent to the line, because the sunlight is wasted in echoes at the innumerable limiting surfaces of water and air. [sidenote: air-bubbles in ice.] the snow which falls upon high mountain-eminences has often a temperature far below the freezing point of water. such snow is _dry_, and if it always continued so the formation of a glacier from it would be impossible. the first action of the summer's sun is to raise the temperature of the superficial snow to °, and afterwards to melt it. the water thus formed percolates through the colder mass underneath, and this i take to be the first active agency in expelling the air entangled in the snow. but as the liquid trickles over the surfaces of granules colder than itself it is partially deposited in a solid form on these surfaces, thus augmenting the size of the granules, and cementing them together. when the mass thus formed is examined, the air within it is found as _round bubbles_. now it is manifest that the air caught in the irregular interstices of the snow can have no tendency to assume this form so long as the snow remains solid; but the process to which i have referred--the saturation of the lower portions of the snow by the water produced by the melting of the superficial portions--enables the air to form itself into globules, and to give the ice of the _névé_ its peculiar character. thus we see that, though the sun cannot get directly at the deeper portions of the snow, by liquefying the upper layer he charges it with heat, and makes it his messenger to the cold subjacent mass. the frost of the succeeding winter may, i think, or may not, according to circumstances, penetrate through this layer, and solidify the water which it still retains in its interstices. if the winter set in with clear frosty weather, the penetration will probably take place; but if heavy snow occur at the commencement of winter, thus throwing a protective covering over the _névé_, freezing to any great depth may be prevented. mr. huxley's idea seems to be quite within the range of possibility, that water-cells may be transmitted from the origin of the glacier to its end, retaining their contents always liquid. [sidenote: snow pressed to ice.] it was formerly supposed, and is perhaps still supposed by many, that the snow of the mountains is converted into the ice of the glacier by the process of saturation and freezing just indicated. but the frozen layer would not yet resemble glacier ice; it is only at the deeper portions of the _névé_ that we find an approximation to the true ice of the glacier. this brings us to the second great agent in the process of glacification, namely, pressure. the ice of the _névé_ at ° may be squeezed or crushed with extreme facility; and if the force be applied slowly and with caution, the yielding of the mass may be made to resemble the yielding of a plastic body. in the depths of the _névé_, where each portion of the ice is surrounded by a resistant mass, rude crushing is of course out of the question. the layers underneath yield with extreme slowness to the pressure of the mass above them; they are squeezed, but not rudely fractured; and even should rude fracture occur, the ice, as shall subsequently be shown, possesses the power of restoring its own continuity. thus, then, the lower portions of the _névé_ are removed by pressure more and more from the condition of snow, the air-bubbles which give to the _névé_-ice its whiteness are more and more expelled, and this process, continued throughout the entire glacier, finally brings the ice to that state of magnificent transparency which we find at the termination of the glacier of rosenlaui and elsewhere. this is all capable of experimental proof. the messrs. schlagintweit compressed the snow of the _névé_ to compact ice; and i have myself frequently obtained slabs of ice from snow in london. colour of water and ice. ( .) the sun is continually sending forth waves of different lengths, all of which travel with the same velocity through the ether. when these waves enter a prism of glass they are retarded, but in different degrees. the shorter waves suffer the greatest retardation, and in consequence of this are most deflected from their straight course. it is this property which enables us to separate one from the other in the solar spectrum, and this separation proves that the waves are by no means inextricably entangled with each other, but that they travel independently through space. in consequence of this independence, the same body may intercept one system of waves while it allows another to pass: on this quality, indeed, depend all the phenomena of colour. a red glass, for example, is red because it is so constituted that it destroys the shorter waves which produce the other colours, and transmits only the waves which produce red. i may remark, however, that scarcely any glass is of a pure colour; along with the predominant waves, some of the other waves are permitted to pass. the colours of flowers are also very impure; in fact, to get pure colours we must resort to a delicate prismatic analysis of white light. [sidenote: long waves most absorbed.] it has already been stated that a layer of water less than the twentieth of an inch in thickness suffices to stop and destroy all waves of radiant heat emanating from an obscure source. the longer waves of the obscure heat cannot get through water, and i find that all transparent compounds which contain _hydrogen_ are peculiarly hostile to the longer undulations. it is, i think, the presence of this element in the humours of the eye which prevents the extra red rays of the solar spectrum from reaching the retina. it is interesting to observe that while bisulphide of carbon, chloride of phosphorus, and other liquids which contain no hydrogen, permit a large portion of the rays emanating from an iron or copper ball, at a heat below redness, to pass through them with facility, the same thickness of substances equally transparent, but which contain hydrogen, such as ether, alcohol, water, or the vitreous humour of the eye of an ox, completely intercepts these obscure rays. the same is true of solid bodies; a very slight thickness of those which contain hydrogen offers an impassable barrier to all rays emanating from a non-luminous source.[a] but the heat thus intercepted is by no means lost; its _radiant form_ merely is destroyed. its waves are shivered upon the particles of the body, but they impart warmth to it, while the heat which retains its radiant form contributes in no way to the warmth of the body through which it passes. [sidenote: final colour of ice and water blue.] water then absorbs all the extra red rays of the sun, and if the layer be thick enough it invades the red rays themselves. thus the greater the distance the solar beams travel through pure water the more are they deprived of those components which lie at the red end of the spectrum. the consequence is, that the light finally transmitted by the water, and which gives to it its colour, is _blue_. [sidenote: experiment.] i find the following mode of examining the colour of water both satisfactory and convenient:--a tin tube, fifteen feet long and three inches in diameter, has its two ends stopped securely by pieces of colourless plate glass. it is placed in a horizontal position, and pure water is poured into it through a small lateral pipe, until the liquid reaches half way up the glasses at the ends; the tube then holds a semi-cylinder of water and a semi-cylinder of air. a white plate, or a sheet of white paper, well illuminated, is then placed at a little distance from one end of the tube, and is looked at through the tube. two semicircular spaces are then seen, one by the light which has passed through the air, the other by the light which has passed through the water; and their proximity furnishes a means of comparison, which is absolutely necessary in experiments of this kind. it is always found that, while the former semicircle remains white, the latter one is vividly coloured.[b] when the beam from an electric lamp is sent through this tube, and a convex lens is placed at a suitable distance from its most distant end, a magnified image of the coloured and uncoloured semicircles may be projected upon a screen. tested thus, i have sometimes found, after rain, the ordinary pipe-water of the royal institution quite opaque; while, under other circumstances, i have found the water of a clear green. the pump-water of the institution thus examined exhibits a rich sherry colour, while distilled water is blue-green. the blueness of the grotto of capri is due to the fact that the light which enters it has previously traversed a great depth of clear water. according to bunsen's account, the _laugs_, or cisterns of hot water, in iceland must be extremely beautiful. the water contains silica in solution, which, as the walls of the cistern arose, was deposited upon them in fantastic incrustations. these, though white, when looked at through the water appear of a lovely blue, which deepens in tint as the vision plunges deeper into the liquid. [sidenote: ice opaque to radiant heat.] ice is a crystal formed from this blue liquid, the colour of which it retains. ice is the most opaque of transparent solids to radiant heat, as water is the most opaque of liquids. according to melloni, a plate of ice one twenty-fifth of an inch thick, which permits the rays of light to pass without sensible absorption, cuts off per cent. of the rays of heat issuing from a powerful oil lamp, - / per cent. of the rays issuing from incandescent platinum, and the whole of the rays issuing from an obscure source. the above numbers indicate how large a portion of the rays emitted by our artificial sources of light is obscure. when the rays of light pass through a sufficient thickness of ice the longer waves are, as in the case of water, more and more absorbed, and the final colour of the substance is therefore blue. but when the ice is filled with minute air-bubbles, though we should loosely call it _white_, it may exhibit, even in small pieces, a delicate blue tint. this, i think, is due to the frequent interior reflection which takes place at the surfaces of the air-cells; so that the light which reaches the eye from the interior may, in consequence of its having been reflected hither and thither, really have passed through a considerable thickness of ice. the same remark, as we have already seen, applies to the delicate colour of newly fallen snow. footnotes: [a] what is here stated regarding hydrogen is true of all the liquids and solids which have hitherto been examined,--but whether any exceptions occur, future experience must determine. it is only when in combination that it exhibits this impermeability to the obscure rays. [b] in my own experiments i have never yet been able to obtain a pure blue, the nearest approach to it being a blue-green. colours of the sky. ( .) [sidenote: newton's hypothesis.] in treating of the colours of thin plates we found that a certain thickness was necessary to produce blue, while a greater thickness was necessary for red. with that wonderful power of generalization which belonged to him, newton thus applies this apparently remote fact to the blue of the sky:--"the blue of the first order, though very faint and little, may possibly be the colour of some substances, and particularly the azure colour of the skies seems to be of this order. for all vapours, when they begin to condense and coalesce into small parcels, become first of that bigness whereby such an azure is reflected, before they can constitute clouds of other colours. and so, this being the first colour which vapours begin to reflect, it ought to be the colour of the finest and most transparent skies, in which vapours are not arrived at that grossness requisite to reflect other colours, as we find it is by experience." m. clausius has written a most interesting paper, which he endeavours to show that the minute particles of water which are supposed by newton to reflect the light, cannot be little globes entirely composed of water, but bladders or hollow spheres; the vapour must be in what is generally termed the _vesicular_ state. he was followed by m. brücke, whose experiments prove that the suspended particles may be so small that the reasoning of m. clausius may not apply to them. but why need we assume the existence of such particles at all?--why not assume that the colour of the air is blue, and renders the light of the sun blue, after the fashion of a blue glass or a solution of the sulphate of copper? i have already referred to the great variation which the colour of the firmament undergoes in the alps, and have remarked that this seems to indicate that the blue depends upon some variable constituent of the atmosphere. further, we find that the blue light of the sky is _reflected_ light; and there must be something in the atmosphere capable of producing this reflection; but this thing, whatever it is, produces another effect which the blue glass or liquid is unable to produce. these _transmit_ blue light, whereas, when the solar beams have traversed a great length of air, as in the morning or the evening, they are yellow, or orange, or even blood-red, according to the state of the atmosphere:--the transmitted light and the reflected light of the atmosphere are then totally different in colour. [sidenote: goethe's hypothesis.] goethe, in his celebrated 'farbenlehre,' gives a theory of the colour of the sky, and has illustrated it by a series of striking facts. he assumed two principles in the universe--light and darkness--and an intermediate stage of turbidity. when the darkness is seen through a turbid medium on which the light falls, the medium appears blue; when the light itself is viewed through such a medium, it is yellow, or orange, or ruby-red. this he applies to the atmosphere, which sends us blue light, or red, according as the darkness of infinite space, or the bright surface of the sun, is regarded through it. as a theory of colours goethe's work is of no value, but the facts which he has brought forward in illustration of the action of turbid media are in the highest degree interesting. he refers to the blueness of distant mountains, of smoke, of the lower part of the flame of a candle (which if looked at with a white surface behind it completely disappears), of soapy water, and of the precipitates of various resins in water. one of his anecdotes in connexion with this subject is extremely curious and instructive. the portrait of a very dignified theologian having suffered from dirt, it was given to a painter to be cleaned. the clergyman was drawn in a dress of black velvet, over which the painter, in the first place, passed his sponge. to his astonishment the black velvet changed to the colour of blue plush, and completely altered the aspect of its wearer. goethe was informed of the fact; the experiment was repeated in his presence, and he at once solved it by reference to his theory. the varnish of the picture when mixed with the water formed a turbid medium, and the black coat seen through it appeared blue; when the water evaporated the coat resumed its original aspect. [sidenote: suspended particles.] with regard to the real explanation of these effects, it may be shown, that, if a beam of white light be sent through a liquid which contains extremely minute particles in a state of suspension, the short waves are more copiously reflected by such particles than the long ones; blue, for example, is more copiously reflected than red. this may be shown by various fine precipitates, but the best is that of brücke. we know that mastic and various resins are soluble in alcohol, and are precipitated when the solution is poured into water: _eau de cologne_, for example, produces a white precipitate when poured into water. if however this precipitate be sufficiently diluted, it gives the liquid a bluish colour by reflected light. even when the precipitate is very thick and gross, and floats upon the liquid like a kind of curd, its under portions often exhibit a fine blue. to obtain particles of a proper size, brücke recommends gramme of colourless mastic to be dissolved in grammes of alcohol, and dropped into a beaker of water, which is kept in a state of agitation. in this way a blue resembling that of the firmament may be produced. it is best seen when a black cloth is placed behind the glass; but in certain positions this blue liquid appears yellow; and these are the positions when the _transmitted_ light reaches the eye. it is evident that this change of colour must necessarily exist; for the blue being partially withdrawn by more copious reflection, the transmitted light must partake more or less of the character of the complementary colour; though it does not follow that they should be exactly complementary to each other. [sidenote: the sun through london smoke.] when a long tube is filled with clear water, the colour of the liquid, as before stated, shows itself by transmitted light. the effect is very interesting when a solution of mastic is permitted to drop into such a tube, and the fine precipitate to diffuse itself in the water. the blue-green of the liquid is first neutralized, and a yellow colour shows itself; on adding more of the solution the colour passes from yellow to orange, and from orange to blood-red. with a cell an inch and a half in width, containing water, into which the solution of mastic is suffered to drop, the same effect may be obtained. if the light of an electric lamp be caused to form a clear sunlike disk upon a white screen, the gradual change of this light by augmented precipitation into deep glowing red, resembling the colour of the sun when seen through fine london smoke, is exceedingly striking. indeed the smoke acts, in some measure, the part of our finely-suspended matter. [sidenote: morning and evening red.] by such means it is possible to imitate the phenomena of the firmament; we can produce its pure blue, and cause it to vary as in nature. the milkiness which steals over the heavens, and enables us to distinguish one cloudless day from another, can be produced with the greatest ease. the yellow, orange, and red light of the morning and evening can also be obtained: indeed the effects are so strikingly alike as to suggest a common origin--that the colours of the sky are due to minute particles diffused through the atmosphere. these particles are doubtless the condensed vapour of water, and its variation in quality and amount enables us to understand the variability of the firmamental blue, and of the morning and the evening red. professor forbes, moreover, has made the interesting observation that the steam of a locomotive, at a certain stage of its condensation, is blue or red according as it is viewed by reflected or transmitted light. these considerations enable us to account for a number of facts of common occurrence. thin milk, when poured upon a black surface, appears bluish. the milk is colourless; that is, its blueness is not due to _absorption_, but to a _separation_ of the light by the particles suspended in the liquid. the juices of various plants owe their blueness to the same cause; but perhaps the most curious illustration is that presented by a blue eye. here we have no true colouring matter, no proper absorption; but we look through a muddy medium at the black choroid coat within the eye, and the medium appears blue.[a] [sidenote: colour of swiss lakes.] is it not probable that this action of finely-divided matter may have some influence on the colour of some of the swiss lakes--as that of geneva for example? this lake is simply an expansion of the river rhone, which rushes from the end of the rhone glacier, as the arveiron does from the end of the mer de glace. numerous other streams join the rhone right and left during its downward course; and these feeders, being almost wholly derived from glaciers, join the rhone charged with the finer matter which these in their motion have ground from the rocks over which they have passed. but the glaciers must grind the mass beneath them to particles of all sizes, and i cannot help thinking that the finest of them must remain suspended in the lake throughout its entire length. faraday has shown that a precipitate of gold may require months to sink to the bottom of a bottle not more than five inches high, and in all probability it would require _ages_ of calm subsidence to bring _all_ the particles which the lake of geneva contains to its bottom. it seems certainly worthy of examination whether such particles suspended in the water contribute to the production of that magnificent blue which has excited the admiration of all who have seen it under favourable circumstances. footnotes: [a] helmholtz, 'das sehen des menschen.' the moraines. ( .) the surface of the glacier does not long retain the shining whiteness of the snow from which it is derived. it is flanked by mountains which are washed by rain, dislocated by frost, riven by lightning, traversed by avalanches, and swept by storms. the lighter débris is scattered by the winds far and wide over the glacier, sullying the purity of its surface. loose shingle rattles at intervals down the sides of the mountains, and falls upon the ice where it touches the rocks. large rocks are continually let loose, which come jumping from ledge to ledge, the cohesion of some being proof against the shocks which they experience; while others, when they hit the rocks, burst like bomb-shells, and shower their fragments upon the ice. [sidenote: lateral moraines.] thus the glacier is incessantly loaded along its borders with the ruins of the mountains which limit it; and it is evident that the quantity of rock and rubbish thus cast upon the glacier depends upon the character of the adjacent mountains. where the summits are bare and friable, we may expect copious showers; where they are resistant, and particularly where they are protected by a covering of ice and snow, the quantity will be small. as the glacier moves downward, it carries with it the load deposited upon it. long ridges of débris thus flank the glacier, and these ridges are called _lateral moraines_. where two tributary glaciers join to form a trunk-glacier, their adjacent lateral moraines are laid side by side at the place of confluence, thus constituting a ridge which runs along the middle of the trunk-glacier, and which is called a _medial moraine_. the rocks and débris carried down by the glacier are finally deposited at its lower extremity, forming there a _terminal moraine_. [sidenote: medial and terminal moraines.] it need hardly be stated that the number of medial moraines is only limited by the number of branch glaciers. if a glacier have but two branches, it will have only one medial moraine; if it have three branches, it will have two medial moraines; if _n_ branches, it will have _n_- medial moraines. the number of medial moraines, in short, is always _one less_ than the number of branches. a glance at the annexed figure will reveal the manner in which the lateral moraines of the mer de glace unite to form medial ones. (see fig. .) [illustration: moraines of the mer de glace. fig. . _to face p. _.] when a glacier diminishes in size it leaves its lateral moraines stranded on the flanks of the valleys. successive shrinkings may thus occur, and _have_ occurred at intervals of centuries; and a succession of old lateral moraines, such as many glacier-valleys exhibit, is the consequence. the mer de glace, for example, has its old lateral moraines, which run parallel with its present ones. the glacier may also diminish _in length_ at distant intervals; the result being a succession of more or less concentric terminal moraines. in front of the rhone-glacier we have six or seven such moraines, and the mer de glace also possesses a series of them. let us now consider the effect produced by a block of stone upon the surface of a glacier. the ice around it receives the direct rays of the sun, and is acted on by the warm air; it is therefore constantly melting. the stone also receives the solar beams, is warmed, and transmits its heat, by conduction, to the ice beneath it. if the heat thus transmitted to the ice through the stone be less than an equal space of the surrounding ice receives, it is manifest that the ice around the stone will waste more quickly than that beneath it, and the consequence is, that, as the surface sinks, it leaves behind it a pillar of ice, on which the block is elevated. if the stone be wide and flat, it may rise to a considerable height, and in this position it constitutes what is called a glacier-_table_. (see fig. .) [sidenote: glacier tables accounted for.] almost all glaciers present examples of such tables; but no glacier with which i am acquainted exhibits them in greater number and perfection than the unteraar glacier, near the grimsel. vast masses of granite are thus poised aloft on icy pedestals; but a limit is placed to their exaltation by the following circumstance. the sun plays obliquely upon the table all day; its southern extremity receives more heat than its northern, and the consequence is, that it _dips_ towards the south. strictly speaking, the plane of the dip rotates a little during the day, being a little inclined towards the east in the morning, north and south a little after noon, and inclined towards the west in the evening; so that, theoretically speaking, the block is a sun-dial, showing by its position the hour of the day. this rotation is, however, too small to be sensible, and hence _the dip of the stones upon a glacier sufficiently exposed to the sunlight, enables us at any time to draw the meridian line along its surface_. the inclination finally becomes so great that the block slips off its pedestal, and begins to form another, while the one which it originally occupied speedily disappears, under the influence of sun and air. fig. represents a typical section of a glacier-table, the sun's rays being supposed to fall in the direction of the shading lines. [sidenote: type "table."] [illustration: fig. . typical section of a glacier table.] stones of a certain size are always lifted in the way described. a considerable portion of the heat which a large block receives is wasted by radiation, and by communication to the air, so that the quantity which reaches the ice beneath is trifling. such a mass is, of course, a protector of the ice beneath it. but if the stone be small, and dark in colour, it absorbs the heat with avidity, communicates it quickly to the ice with which it is in contact, and consequently sinks in the ice. this is also the case with bits of dirt and the finer fragments of débris; they sink in the glacier. sometimes, however, a pretty thick layer of sand is washed over the ice from the moraines, or from the mountain-sides; and such sand-layers give birth to ice-cones, which grow to peculiarly grand dimensions on the lower aar glacier. i say "grow," but the truth, of course, is, that the surrounding ice wastes, while the portion underneath the sand is so protected that it remains as an eminence behind. at first sight, these sand-covered cones appear huge heaps of dirt, but on examination they are found to be cones of ice, and that the dirt constitutes merely a superficial covering. turn we now to the moraines. protecting, as they do, the ice from waste, they rise, as might be expected, in vast ridges above the general surface of the glacier. in some cases the surrounding mass has been so wasted as to leave the spines of ice which support the moraines forty or fifty feet above the general level of the glacier. i should think the moraines of the mer de glace about the tacul rise to this height. but lower down, in the neighbourhood of the echelets, these high ridges disappear, and nought remains to mark the huge moraine but a strip of dirt, and perhaps a slight longitudinal protuberance on the surface of the glacier. how have the blocks vanished that once loaded the moraines near the tacul? they have been swallowed in the crevasses which intersect the moraines lower down; and if we could examine the ice at the echelets we should find the engulfed rocks in the body of the glacier. [sidenote: moraines engulfed and disgorged.] cases occur, wherein moraines, after having been engulfed, and hidden for a time, are again entirely disgorged by the glacier. two moraines run along the basin of the talèfre, one from the jardin, the other from an adjacent promontory, proceeding parallel to each other towards the summit of the great ice-fall. here the ice is riven, and profound chasms are formed, in which the blocks and shingle of the moraines disappear. throughout the entire ice-fall the only trace of the moraines is a broad dirt-streak, which the eye may follow along the centre of the fall, with perhaps here and there a stone which has managed to rise from its frozen sepulchre. but the ice wastes, and at the base of the fall large masses of stone begin to reappear; these become more numerous as we descend; the smaller débris also appears, and finally, at some distance below the fall, the moraine is completely restored, and begins to exercise its protecting influence; it rises upon its ridge of ice, and dominates as before over the surface of the glacier. [sidenote: transparency of ice under the moraines.] the ice under the moraines and sand-cones is of a different appearance from that of the surrounding glacier, and the principles we have laid down enable us to explain the difference. the sun's rays, striking upon the unprotected surface of the glacier, enter the ice to a considerable depth; and the consequence is, that the ice near the surface of the glacier is always disintegrated, being cut up with minute fissures and cavities, filled with water and air, which, for reasons already assigned, cause the glacier, when it is clean, to appear white and opaque. the ice under the moraines, on the contrary, is usually dark and transparent; i have sometimes seen it as black as pitch, the blackness being a proof of its great transparency, which prevents the reflection of light from its interior. the ice under the moraines cannot be assailed in its depths by the solar heat, because this heat becomes _obscure_ before it reaches the ice, and as such it lacks the power of penetrating the substance. it is also communicated in great part by way of contact instead of by radiation. a thin film at the surface of the moraine-ice engages all the heat that acts upon it, its deeper portions remaining intact and transparent. glacier motion. preliminary. ( .) [sidenote: nÉvÉ and glacier.] though a glacier is really composed of two portions, one above and the other below the snow-line, the term glacier is usually restricted to the latter, while the french term _névé_ is applied to the former. it is manifest that the snow which falls upon the glacier proper can contribute nothing to its growth or permanence; for every summer is not only competent to abolish the accumulations of the foregoing winter, but to do a great deal more. during each summer indeed a considerable quantity of the ice below the snow-line is reduced to water; so that, if the waste were not in some way supplied, it is manifest that in a few years the lower portion of the glacier must entirely disappear. the end of the mer de glace, for example, could never year after year thrust itself into the valley of chamouni, were there not some agency by which its manifest waste is made good. this agency is the motion of the glacier. to those unacquainted with the fact of their motion, but who have stood upon these vast accumulations of ice, and noticed their apparent fixity and rigidity, the assertion that a glacier moves must appear in the highest degree startling and incredible. they would naturally share the doubts of a certain professor of tübingen, who, after a visit to the glaciers of switzerland, went home and wrote a book flatly denying the possibility of their motion. but reflection comes to the aid of sense, and qualifies first impressions. we ask ourselves how is the permanence of the glacier secured? how are the moraines to be accounted for? whence come the blocks which we often find at the terminus of a glacier, and which we know belong to distant mountains? the necessity of motion to produce these results becomes more and more apparent, until at length we resort to actual experiment. we take two fixed points at opposite sides of the glacier, so that a block of stone which rests upon the ice may be in the straight line which unites the points; and we soon find that the block quits the line, and is borne downwards by the glacier. we may well realize the interest of the man who first engaged in this experiment, and the pleasure which he felt on finding that the block moved; for even now, after hundreds of observations on the motion of glaciers have been made, the actual observance of this motion for the first time is always accompanied by a thrill of delight. such pleasure the direct perception of natural truth always imparts. like antæus we touch our mother, and are refreshed by the contact. [sidenote: hugi's measurements.] the fact of glacier-motion has been known for an indefinite time to the inhabitants of the mountains; but the first who made quantitative observations of the motion was hugi. he found that from to his cabin upon the glacier of the aar had moved mètres, or about yards, downwards; in it had moved mètres; and in m. agassiz found it at a distance of , mètres from its first position. this is equivalent in round numbers to an average velocity of mètres a year. in m. agassiz fixed the position of the rock known as the hôtel des neufchâtelois; and on the th of september, , he found that it had moved feet downward. between this date and september, , the rock moved feet, thus accomplishing a distance of feet in two years. but much uncertainty prevailed regarding the motion of the boulders, for they sometimes rolled upon the glacier, and hence it was resolved to use stakes of wood driven into the ice. in the month of july, , m. escher de la linth fixed a system of stakes, every two of which were separated from each other by a distance of mètres, across the great aletsch glacier. a considerable number of other stakes were fixed _along_ the glacier, the longitudinal separation being also mètres. on the th of july the stakes stood at a depth of about three feet in the ice. on the th of august he returned to the glacier. almost all the stakes had fallen, and no trace, even of the holes in which they had been sunk, remained. m. agassiz was equally unsuccessful on the glacier of the aar. it must therefore be borne in mind, that, previous to the introduction of the facile modes of measurement which we now employ, severe labour and frequent disappointment had taught observers the true conditions of success. after his defeat upon the aletsch, m. escher joined mm. agassiz and desor on the aar glacier, where, between the st of august and the th of september, they fixed in concert the positions of a series of blocks upon the ice, with the view of measuring their displacements the following year. [sidenote: agassiz's measurements.] another observation of great importance was also commenced in . warned by previous failures, m. agassiz had iron boring-rods carried up the glacier, with which he pierced the ice at six places to a depth of ten feet, and at each place drove a wooden pile into the ice. these six stations were in the same straight line across the glacier; three of them standing upon the finsteraar and three on the lauteraar tributary. about this time also m. agassiz conceived the idea of having the displacements measured the year following with precise instruments, and also of having constructed, by a professional engineer, a map of the entire glacier, on which all its visible "accidents" should be drawn according to scale. this excellent work was afterwards executed by m. wild, now professor of geodesy and topography in the polytechnic school of zürich, and it is published as a separate atlas in connexion with m. agassiz's 'système glaciaire.' [sidenote: prof. j. d. forbes invited.] m. agassiz is a naturalist, and he appears to have devoted but little attention to the study of physics. at all events, the physical portions of his writings appear to me to be very often defective. it was probably his own consciousness of this deficiency that led him to invoke the advice of arago and others previous to setting out upon his excursions. it was also his desire "to see a philosopher so justly celebrated occupy himself with the subject," which induced him to invite prof. j. d. forbes of edinburgh to be his guest upon the aar glacier in . on the th of august they met at the grimsel hospice, and for three weeks afterwards they were engaged together daily upon the ice, sharing at night the shelter of the same rude roof. it is in reference to this visit that prof. forbes writes thus at page of the 'travels in the alps':--"far from being ready to admit, as my sanguine companions wished me to do in , that the theory of glaciers was complete, and the cause of their motion certain, after patiently hearing all they had to say and reserving my opinion, i drew the conclusion that no theory which i had then heard of could account for the few facts admitted on all hands." in prof. forbes repaired, as early as the state of the snow permitted, to the mer de glace; he worked there, in the first instance, for a week, and afterwards crossed over to courmayeur to witness a solar eclipse. the result of his week's observations was immediately communicated to prof. jameson, then editor of the 'edinburgh new philosophical journal.' [sidenote: centre moves quickest.] in that letter he announces the fact, but gives no details of the measurement, that "the central part of the glacier moves faster than the edges in a very considerable proportion; quite contrary to the opinion generally entertained." he also announced at the same time the continuous hourly advance of the glacier. this letter bears the date, "courmayeur, piedmont, th july," but it was not published until the month of october following. meanwhile m. agassiz, in company with m. wild, returned to complete his experiment upon the glacier of the aar. on the th of july, , the displacements of the six piles which he had planted the year before were determined by means of a theodolite. of the three upon the finsteraar affluent, that nearest the side had moved feet, the next feet, while that nearest to the centre had moved feet. of those on the lauteraar, that nearest the side had moved feet, the next feet, and that nearest the centre feet. these observations were perfectly conclusive as to the quicker motion of the centre: they embrace a year's motion; and the magnitude of the displacements, causing errors of inches, which might seriously affect small displacements, to vanish, justifies us in ranking this experiment with the most satisfactory of the kind that have ever been made. the results were communicated to arago in a letter dated from the glacier of the aar, on the st of august, ; they were laid before the academy of sciences on the th of august, , and are published in the 'comptes rendus' of the same date. the facts, then, so far as i have been able to collect them, are as follows:--m. agassiz commenced his experiment about ten months before professor forbes, and the results of his measurements, with quantities stated, were communicated to the french academy about two months prior to the publication of the letter of professor forbes in the 'edinburgh philosophical journal.' but the latter communication, announcing in general terms the fact of the speedier central motion, was dated from courmayeur twenty-seven days before the date of m. agassiz's letter from the glacier of the aar. [sidenote: state of the question.] the speedier motion of the central portion of a glacier has been justly regarded as one of cardinal importance, and no other observation has been the subject of such frequent reference; but the general impression in england is that m. agassiz had neither part nor lot in the establishment of the above fact; and in no english work with which i am acquainted can i find any reference to the above measurements. relying indeed upon such sources for my information, i remained ignorant of the existence of the paper in the 'comptes rendus' until my attention was directed to it by professor wheatstone. in the next following chapters i shall have to state the results of some of my own measurements, and shall afterwards devote a little time to the consideration of the cause of glacier-motion. in treating a question on which so much has been written, it is of course impossible, as it would be undesirable, to avoid subjecting both my own views and those of others to a critical examination. but in so doing i hope that no expression shall escape me inconsistent with the courtesy which ought to be habitual among philosophers or with the frank recognition of the just claims of my predecessors. motion of the mer de glace. ( .) [sidenote: my first observation.] on tuesday, the th of july, , i made my first observation on the motion of the mer de glace. accompanied by mr. hirst i selected on the steep slope of the glacier des bois a straight pinnacle of ice, the front edge of which was perfectly vertical. in coincidence with this edge i fixed the vertical fibre of the theodolite, and permitted the instrument to stand for three hours. on looking through it at the end of this interval, the cross hairs were found projected against the white side of the pyramid; the whole mass having moved several inches downwards. the instrument here mentioned, which had long been in use among engineers and surveyors, was first applied to measure glacier-motion in ; by prof. forbes on the mer de glace, and by m. agassiz on the glacier of the aar. the portion of the theodolite made use of is easily understood. the instrument is furnished with a telescope capable of turning up and down upon a pivot, without the slightest deviation right or left; and also capable of turning right or left without the slightest deviation up or down. within the telescope two pieces of spider's thread, so fine as to be scarcely visible to the naked eye, are drawn across the tube and across each other. when we look through the telescope we see these fibres, their point of intersection being exactly in the centre of the tube; and the instrument is furnished with screws by means of which this point can be fixed upon any desired object with the utmost precision. [sidenote: mode of measurement.] in setting a straight row of stakes across the glacier, our mode of proceeding was in all cases this:--the theodolite was placed on the mountain-side flanking the glacier, quite clear of the ice; and having determined the direction of a line perpendicular to the axis of the glacier, a well-defined object was sought at the opposite side of the valley as close as possible to this direction; the object being, in some cases, the sharp edge of a cliff; in others, a projecting corner of rock; and, in others, a well-defined mark on the face of the rock. this object and those around it were carefully sketched, so that on returning to the place it could be instantly recognized. on commencing a line the point of intersection of the two spiders' threads within the telescope was first fixed accurately upon the point thus chosen, and an assistant carrying a straight bâton was sent upon the ice. by rough signalling he first stood near the place where the first stake was to be driven in; and the object end of the telescope was then lowered until he came within the field of view. he held his staff upright upon the ice, and, in obedience to signals, moved upwards or downwards until the point of intersection of the spiders-threads exactly hit the bottom of the bâton; a concerted signal was then made, the ice was pierced with an auger to a depth of about sixteen inches, and a stake about two feet long was firmly driven into it. the assistant then advanced for some distance across the glacier; the end of the telescope was now gently raised until he and his upright staff again appeared in the field of view. he then moved as before until the bottom of his staff was struck by the point of intersection, and here a second stake was fixed in the ice. in this way the process was continued until the line of stakes was completed. before quitting the station, a plummet was suspended from a hook directly underneath the centre of the theodolite, and the place where the point touched the ground was distinctly marked. to measure the motion of the line of stakes, we returned to the place a day or two afterwards, and by means of the plummet were able to make the theodolite occupy the exact position which it occupied when the line was set out. the telescope being directed upon the point at the opposite side of the valley, and gradually lowered, it was found that no single stake along the line preserved its first position: they had all shifted downwards. the assistant was sent to the first stake; the point which it had first occupied was again determined, and its present distance from that point accurately measured. the same thing was done in the case of each stake, and thus the displacement of the whole row of stakes was ascertained.[a] the time at which the stake was fixed, and at which its displacement was measured, being carefully noted, a simple calculation determined _the daily motion_ of the stake. [sidenote: the first line.] thus, on the th of july, , we set out our first line across the mer de glace, at some distance below the montanvert; on the day following we measured the progress of the stakes. the observed displacements are set down in the following table:-- first line.--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. west moved - / " - / " - / " ... " - / moved ... " - / " ... " - / " - / east. [sidenote: the centre-point not the quickest.] the theodolite in this case stood on the montanvert side of the valley, and the stakes are numbered from this side. we see that the motion gradually augments from the st stake onward--the st stake being held back by the friction of the ice against the flanking mountain-side. the stakes , , and have no motion attached to them, as an accident rendered the measurement of their displacements uncertain. but one remarkable fact is exhibited by this line; the th stake stood upon the _middle_ of the glacier, and we see that its motion is by no means the quickest; it is exceeded in this respect by the stakes and . the portion of the glacier on which the th stake stood was very much cut up by crevasses, and, while the assistant was boring it with his auger, the ice beneath him was observed, through the telescope, to slide suddenly forward for about inches. the other stakes retained their positions, so that the movement was purely local. deducting the inches thus irregularly obtained, we should have a daily motion of - / inches for stake no. . the place was watched for some time, but the slipping was not repeated; and a second measurement on the succeeding day made the motion of the th stake inches, whilst that of the centre of the glacier was only . here, then, was a fact which needed explanation; but, before attempting this, i resolved, by repeated measurements in the same locality, to place the existence of the fact beyond doubt. we therefore ascended to a point upon the old and now motionless moraine, a little above the montanvert hotel; and choosing, as before, a well-defined object at the opposite side of the valley, we set between it and the theodolite a row of twenty stakes across the glacier. their motions, measured on a subsequent day, and reduced to their daily rate, gave the results set down in the following table:-- second line.--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. west moved - / " - / " - / " - / " " - / " - / " " - / " moved " - / " " - / " - / " - / " - / " - / " ... " - / east. [sidenote: corroborative measurements.] as regards the retardation of the side, we observe here the same fact as that revealed by our first line--the motion gradually augments from the first stake to the last. the stake no. stood upon the dirty portion of the ice, which was derived from the talèfre tributary of the mer de glace, and far beyond the middle of the glacier. these measurements, therefore, corroborate that made lower down, as regards the non-coincidence of the point of swiftest motion with the centre of the glacier. but it will be observed that the measurements do not show any retardation of the ice at the eastern extremity of the line of stakes--the motion goes on augmenting from the first stake to the last. the reason of this is, that in neither of the cases recorded were we able to get the line quite across the glacier; the crevasses and broken ice-ridges, which intercepted the vision, compelled us to halt before we came sufficiently close to the eastern side to make its retardation sensible. but on the th of july my friend hirst sought out an elevated station on the chapeau, or eastern side of the valley, whence he could command a view from side to side over all the humps and inequalities of the ice, the fixed point at the opposite side, upon which the telescope was directed, being the corner of a window of the montanvert hotel. along this line were placed twelve stakes, the daily motions of which were found to be as follows:-- third line.--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. east moved - / " - / " - / " - / " - / " - / moved - / " " " " ... " - / west. the numbering of the stakes along this line commenced from the chapeau-side of the glacier, and the retardation of that side is now manifest enough; the motion gradually augmenting from - / to - / inches. but, comparing the velocity of the two extreme stakes, we find that the retardation of stake is much greater than that of stake . stake , moreover, which moved with the _maximum_ velocity, was not upon the centre of the glacier, but much nearer to the eastern than to the western side. [sidenote: a new peculiarity of glacier motion.] it was thus placed beyond doubt that the point of maximum motion of the mer de glace, at the place referred to, is not the centre of the glacier. but, to make assurance doubly sure, i examined the comparative motion along three other lines, and found in all the same undeviating result. this result is not only unexpected, but is quite at variance with the opinions hitherto held regarding the motion of the mer de glace. the reader knows that the trunk-stream is composed of three great tributaries from the géant, the léchaud, and the talèfre. the glacier du géant fills more than half of the trunk-valley, and the junction between it and its neighbours is plainly marked by the dirt upon the surface of the latter. in fact four medial moraines are crowded together on the eastern side of the glacier, and before reaching the montanvert they have strewn their débris quite over the adjacent ice. a distinct limit is thus formed between the clean glacier du géant and the other dirty tributaries of the trunk-stream. now the eastern side of the mer de glace is observed on the whole to be much more fiercely torn than the western side, and this excessive crevassing has been referred to _the swifter motion of the glacier du géant_. it has been thought that, like a powerful river, this glacier drags its more sluggish neighbours after it, and thus tears them in the manner observed. but the measurement of the foregoing three lines shows that this cannot be the true cause of the crevassing. in each case the stakes which moved quickest _lay upon the dirty portion of the trunk-stream_, far to the east of the line of junction of the glacier du géant, which in fact moved slowest of all. [sidenote: law of motion sought.] the general view of the glacier, and of the shape of the valley which it filled, suggested to me that the analogy with a river might perhaps make itself good beyond the limits hitherto contemplated. the valley was not straight, but sinuous. at the montanvert the convex side of the glacier was turned eastward; at some distance higher up, near the passages called _les ponts_, it was turned westward; and higher up again it was turned once more, for a long stretch, eastward. thus between trélaporte and the ponts we had what is called a point of contrary flexure, and between the ponts and the montanvert a second point of the same kind. [sidenote: conjecture regarding change of flexure.] supposing a river, instead of the glacier, to sweep through this valley; _its_ point of maximum motion would not always remain central, but would deviate towards that side of the valley to which the river turned its convex boundary. indeed the positions of towns along the banks of a navigable river are mainly determined by this circumstance. they are, in most cases, situate on the convex sides of the bends, where the rush of the water prevents silting up. can it be then that the ice exhibits a similar deportment? that the same principle which regulates the distribution of people along the banks of the thames is also acting with silent energy amid the glaciers of the alps? if this be the case, the position of the point of maximum motion ought, of course, to shift with the bending of the glacier. opposite the ponts, for example, the point ought to be on the glacier du géant, and westward of the centre of the trunk-stream; while, higher up, we ought to have another change to the eastern side, in accordance with the change of flexure. on the th of july a line was set out across the glacier, one of its fixed termini being a mark upon the first of the three ponts. the motion of this line, measured on a subsequent day, and reduced to its daily rate, was found to be as follows:-- fourth line.--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. east moved - / " " - / " - / " - / " - / " - / " - / " - / moved " - / " - / " - / " " - / " - / " west. this line, like the third, was set out and numbered from the eastern side of the glacier, the theodolite occupying a position on the heights of the echelets. a moment's inspection of the table reveals a fact different from that observed on the third line; _there_ the most easterly stake moved with more than twice the velocity of the most westerly one; _here_, on the contrary, the most westerly stake moves with more than twice the velocity of the most easterly one. to enable me to compare the motion of the eastern and western halves of the glacier with greater strictness, my able and laborious companion undertook the task of measuring with a surveyor's chain the line just referred to; noting the pickets which had been fixed along the line, and the other remarkable objects which it intersected. the difficulty of thus directing a chain over crevasses and ridges can hardly be appreciated except by those who have tried it. nevertheless, the task was accomplished, and the width of the mer de glace, at this portion of its course, was found to be yards, or almost exactly half a mile. referring to the last table, it will be seen that the two stakes numbered and moved with a common velocity of - / inches per day, and that their motion is swifter than that of any of the others. the point of swiftest motion may be taken midway between them, and this point was found by measurement to lie yards _west_ of the dirt which marked the junction of the glacier du géant with its fellow tributaries: whereas, in the former cases, it lay a considerable distance _east_ of this limit. its distance from the eastern side of the glacier was yards, and from the western side yards, being yards west of the centre of the glacier. [sidenote: conjecture tested.] but the measurements enabled me to take the stakes in pairs, and to compare the velocity of a number of them which stood at certain distances from the eastern side of the valley, with an equal number which stood at the same distances from the western side. by thus arranging the points two by two, i was able to compare the motion of the entire body of the ice at the one side of the central line with that of the ice at the other side. stake stood about as far from the western side of the glacier as stake did from its eastern side; occupied the same relation to ; , to ; , to ; and , to . calling each pair of points which thus stand at equal distances from the opposite sides _corresponding points_, the following little table exhibits their comparative motions:-- numbers and velocities of corresponding points on the fourth line. no. vel. no. vel. no. vel. no. vel. no. vel. west - / - / - / - / east - / - / - / - / - / [sidenote: western half moves quickest.] the table explains itself. we see that while stake , which stands _west_ of the centre, moves inches, stake , which stands an equal distance _east_ of the centre, moves only - / inches. comparing every pair of the other points, we find the same to hold good; the western stake moves in each case faster than the corresponding eastern one. hence, _the entire western half of the mer de glace, at the place crossed by our fourth line, moves more quickly than the eastern half of the glacier_. we next proceeded farther up, and tested the contrary curvature of the glacier, opposite to trélaporte. the station chosen for this purpose was on a grassy platform of the promontory, whence, on the th of july, a row of stakes was fixed at right angles to the axis of the glacier. their motions, measured on the st, gave the following results:-- fifth line.[b]--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. west moved - / " - / " - / " " - / " " - / " - / moved - / " " - / " - / " " - / " east. this line was set out and numbered from the trélaporte side of the valley, and was also measured by mr. hirst, over boulders, ice-ridges, chasms, and moraines. the entire width of the glacier here was found to be yards, or somewhat wider than it is at the ponts. it will also be observed that its motion is somewhat slower. an inspection of the notes of this line showed me that stakes and , and , and , were "corresponding points;" the first of each pair standing as far from the western side, as the second stood from the eastern. in the following table these points and their velocities are arranged exactly as in the case of the fourth line. numbers and velocities of the corresponding points on the fifth line. no. vel. no. vel. no. vel. west - / - / east - / - / [sidenote: eastern half moves quickest.] in each case we find that the stake on the eastern side moves more quickly than the corresponding one upon the western side: so that where the fifth line crosses the glacier _the eastern half of the mer de glace moves more quickly than the western half_. this is the reverse of the result obtained at our fourth line, but it agrees with that obtained on our first three lines, where the curvature of the valley is similar. the analogy between a river and a glacier moving through a sinuous valley is therefore complete. supposing the points of maximum motion to be determined for a great number of lines across the glacier, the line uniting all these points is what mathematicians would call the _locus_ of the point of maximum motion. at trélaporte this line would lie east of the centre; at the ponts it would lie west of the centre; hence, in passing from trélaporte to the ponts, it must cross the axis of the glacier. again, at the montanvert, it would lie east of the centre, and between the ponts and the montanvert the axis of the glacier would be crossed a second time. supposing the dotted line in fig. to represent the middle line of the glacier, then the defined line would represent the locus of the point of maximum motion. _it is a curve more deeply sinuous than the valley itself, and it crosses the axis of the glacier at each point of contrary flexure._ [sidenote: locus of point of swiftest motion.] [illustration: fig. . locus of the point of maximum motion.] to complete our knowledge of the motion of the mer de glace, we afterwards determined the velocity of its two accessible tributaries--the glacier du géant, and the glacier de léchaud. on the th of july, a line of stakes was set out across the former, a little above the tacul, and their motion was subsequently found to be as follows: sixth line.--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. moved " " " " moved - / " - / " " " the width of the glacier at this place we found to be yards, and its maximum velocity, as shown by the foregoing table, inches a day. on the st of august a line was set out across the glacier de léchaud, above its junction with the talèfre: it commenced beneath the block of stone known as the pierre de béranger. the displacements of the stakes, measured on the rd of august, gave the following results:-- seventh line.--daily motion. no. of stake. inches. moved - / " - / " - / " " - / moved - / " - / " - / " " - / the width of the glacier de léchaud at this place was found to be yards; its maximum motion, as shown by the table, being - / inches a day. this is the slowest rate which we observed upon either the mer de glace or its tributaries. the width of the talèfre-branch, as it descends the cascade, or, in other words, before it is influenced by the pressure of the léchaud, was found approximately to be yards. [sidenote: squeezing at trÉlaporte.] the widths of the tributaries were determined for the purpose of ascertaining the amount of lateral compression endured by the ice in its passage through the neck of the valley at trélaporte. adding all together we have-- géant yards. léchaud " talèfre " total yards. these three branches, as shown by the actual measurement of our th line, are forced at trélaporte through a channel yards wide; the width of the trunk stream is a little better than one-third of that of its tributaries, and it passes through this gorge at a velocity of nearly inches a day. [sidenote: the lÉchaud a driblet.] limiting our view to one of the tributaries only, the result is still more impressive. previous to its junction with the talèfre, the glacier de léchaud stretches before the observer as a broad river of ice, measuring yards across: at trélaporte it is squeezed, in a frozen vice, between the talèfre on one side and the géant on the other, to a driblet, measuring yards in width, or about one-tenth of its former transverse dimension. it will of course be understood that it is the _form_ and not the _volume_ of the glacier that is affected to this enormous extent by the pressure. supposing no waste took place, the glacier de léchaud would force precisely the same amount of ice through the "narrows" at trélaporte, in one day, as it sends past the pierre de béranger. at the latter place its velocity is about half of what it is at the former, but its width is more than nine times as great. hence, if no waste took place, its _depth_, at trélaporte, would be at _least_ - / times its depth opposite the pierre de béranger. superficial and subglacial melting greatly modify this result. still i think it extremely probable that observations directed to this end would prove the comparative shallowness of the upper portions of the glacier de léchaud. footnotes: [a] great care is necessary on the part of the man who measures the displacements. the staff ought to be placed along the original line, and the assistant ought to walk along it until the foot of a _perpendicular_ from the stake is attained. when several days' motion is to be measured, this precaution is absolutely necessary; the eye being liable to be grossly deceived in _guessing_ the direction of a perpendicular. [b] the details of the measurement of the fourth and fifth lines are published in the 'philosophical transactions,' vol. cxlix., p. . ice-wall at the tacul. velocities of top and bottom. ( .) as regards the motion of the _surface_ of a glacier, two laws are to be borne in mind: st, that regarding the quicker movement of the centre; nd, that regarding the locus of the point of maximum motion. our next care must be to compare the motion of the surface of a glacier with the motion of those parts which lie near its bed. rendu first surmised that the bottom of the glacier was retarded by friction, and both professor forbes[a] and m. martins[b] have confirmed the conjecture. theirs are the only observations which we possess upon the subject; and i was particularly desirous to instruct myself upon this important head by measurements of my own. [sidenote: first attempt at measurement.] during the summer of the eastern side of the glacier du géant, near the tacul, exposed a nearly vertical precipice of ice, measuring feet from top to bottom. i requested mr. hirst to fix two stakes in the same vertical plane, one at the top of the precipice and one near the bottom. this he did upon the rd of august, and on the th i accompanied him to measure the progress of the stakes. on the summit of the precipice, and running along it, was the lateral moraine of the glacier. the day was warm and the ice liquefying rapidly, so that the boulders and débris, deprived incessantly of their support, came in frequent leaps and rushes down the precipice. into this peril my guide was about to enter, to measure the displacement of the lower stake, while i was to watch, and call out the direction in which he was to run when a stone gave way. but i soon found that the initial motion was no sure index of the final motion. by striking the precipice, the stones were often deflected, and carried wide of their original direction. i therefore stopped the man, and sent him to the summit of the precipice to remove all the more dangerous blocks. this accomplished, he descended, and while i stood beside him, executed the required measurement. from the rd to the th of august the upper stake had moved twelve inches, and the lower one six. unfortunately some uncertainty attached itself to this result, due to the difficulty of fixing the lower stake. the guide's attention had been divided between his work and his safety, and he had to retreat more than a dozen times from the falling boulders and débris. i, on the other hand, was unwilling to accept an observation of such importance with a shade of doubt attached to it. hence arose the desire to measure the motion myself. on the th of august i therefore reascended to the tacul, and fixed a stake at the top of the precipice, and another at the bottom. while sitting on the old moraine looking at the two pickets, the importance of determining the motion of a point midway between the top and bottom forcibly occurred to me, but, on mentioning it to my guide, he promptly pronounced any attempt of the kind absurd. [sidenote: stakes fixed at top, bottom, and centre.] on scanning the place carefully, however, the value of the observation appeared to me to outweigh the amount of danger. i therefore took my axe, placed a stake and an auger against my breast, buttoned my coat upon them, and cut an oblique staircase up the wall of ice, until i reached a height of forty feet from the bottom. here the position of the stake being determined by mr. hirst, who was at the theodolite, i pierced the ice with the auger, drove in the stake, and descended without injury. during the whole operation however my guide growled audibly. on the following morning we commenced the ascent of mont blanc, a narrative of which is given in part i. we calculated on an absence of three days, and estimated that the stakes which had just been fixed would be ready for measurement on our return; but we did not reach chamouni until the afternoon of friday, the th. heavy clouds settled, during our descent, upon the summits behind us, and a thunder-peal from the aiguilles soon heralded a fall of rain, which continued without intermission till the afternoon of the th, when the atmosphere cleared, and showed the mountains clothed to their girdles with snow. the montanvert was thickly covered, and on our way to it we met the servants in charge of the cattle, which had been driven below the snow-line to obtain food. [sidenote: through gloom to the tacul.] on monday morning, the th, a dense fog filled the valley of the mer de glace. i watched it anxiously. the stakes which we had set at the tacul had been often in my thoughts, and i wished to make some effort to save the labour and peril incurred in setting them from being lost. i therefore set out, in one of the clear intervals, accompanied by my friend and simond, determined to measure the motion of the stakes, if possible, or to fix them more firmly, if they still stood. as we passed, however, from l'angle to the glacier, the fog became so dense and blinding that we halted. at my request mr. hirst returned to the montanvert; and simond, leaving the theodolite in the shelter of a rock, accompanied me through the obscurity to the tacul. we found the topmost stake still stuck by its point in the ice; but the two others had disappeared, and we afterwards discovered their fragments in a snow-buttress, which reared itself against the base of the precipice. they had been hit by the falling stones, and crushed to pieces. having thus learned the worst, we descended to the montanvert amid drenching rain. [sidenote: descent of boulders.] on the morning of the th there was no cloud to be seen anywhere, and the sunlight glistened brightly on the surface of the ice. we ascended to the tacul. the spontaneous falling of the stones appeared more frequent this morning than i had ever seen it. the sun shone with unmitigated power upon the ice, producing copious liquefaction. the rustle of falling débris was incessant, and at frequent intervals the boulders leaped down the precipice, and rattled with startling energy amid the rocks at its base. i sent simond to the top to remove the looser stones; he soon appeared, and urged the moraine-shingle in showers down the precipice, upon a bevelled slope of which some blocks long continued to rest. they were out of the reach of the guide's bâton, and he sought to dislodge them by sending other stones down upon them. some of them soon gave way, drawing a train of smaller shingle after them; others required to be hit many times before they yielded, and others refused to be dislodged at all. i then cut my way up the precipice in the manner already described, fixed the stake, and descended as speedily as possible. we afterwards fixed the bottom stake, and on the th the displacements of all three were measured.[c] the spaces passed over by the respective stakes in hours were found to be as follows:-- inches. top stake . middle stake . bottom stake . [sidenote: motion of stakes.] the height of the precipice was . feet, but it sloped off at its upper portion. the height of the middle stake above the ground was feet, and of the bottom one feet. it is therefore proved by these measurements that the bottom of the ice-wall at the tacul moves with less than half the velocity of the top; while the displacement of the intermediate stake shows how the velocity gradually increases from the bottom upwards. footnotes: [a] 'edinb. phil. journ.,' oct. , p. . [b] agassiz, 'système glaciaire,' p. . [c] on this latter occasion my guide volunteered to cut the steps for me up to the pickets; and i permitted him to do so. in fact, he was at least as anxious as myself to see the measurement carried out. winter motion of the mer de glace. ( .) the winter measurements were executed in the manner already described, on the th and th of december, . the theodolite was placed on the mountain's side flanking the glacier, and a well-defined object was chosen at the opposite side of the valley, so that a straight line between this object and the theodolite was approximately perpendicular to the axis of the glacier. fixing the telescope in the first instance with its cross hairs upon the object, its end was lowered until it struck the point upon the glacier at which a stake was to be fixed. thanks to the intelligence of my assistants, after the fixing of the first stake they speedily took up the line at all other points, requiring very little correction to make their positions perfectly accurate. on the day following that on which the stakes were driven in, the theodolite was placed in the same position, and the distances to which the stakes had moved from their original positions were accurately determined. as already stated, the first line crossed the glacier about yards above the montanvert hotel. [sidenote: half of summer motion.] line no. i.--winter motion in twenty-four hours. no. of stake. inches. west - / - / - / - / - / - / - / - / east. [sidenote: the same law in summer and winter.] the maximum here is fifteen and three-quarters inches; the maximum summer motion of the same portion of the glacier is about thirty inches. these measurements also show that in winter, as well as in summer, the side of the glacier opposite to the montanvert moves quicker than that adjacent to it. the stake which moved with the maximum velocity was beyond the moraine of la noire. the second line crossed the glacier about yards below the montanvert. line no. ii.--winter motion in twenty-four hours. no. of stake. inches. - / - / - / - / - / - / - / the maximum here is an inch and three-quarters greater than that of line no. . the summer maximum at this portion of the glacier also exceeds that of the part intersected by line no. . the surface of the glacier between the two lines is in a state of tension which relieves itself by a system of transverse fissures, and thus permits of the quicker advance of the forward portion. my desire, in making these measurements, was, in the first place, to raise the winter observations of the motion to the same degree of accuracy as that already possessed by the summer ones. auguste balmat had already made a series of winter observations on the mer de glace; but they were made in the way employed before the introduction of the theodolite by agassiz and forbes, and shared the unavoidable roughness of such a mode of measurement. they moreover gave us no information as to the motion of the different parts of the glacier along the same transverse line, and this, for reasons which will appear subsequently, was the point of chief interest to me. cause of glacier-motion. de saussure's theory. ( .) perhaps the first attempt at forming a glacier-theory is that of scheuchzer in . he supposed the motion to be caused by the conversion of water into ice within the glacier; the known and almost irresistible expansion which takes place on freezing, furnishing the force which pushed the glacier downward. this idea was illustrated and developed with so much skill by m. de charpentier, that his name has been associated with it; and it is commonly known as the theory of charpentier, or the dilatation-theory. m. agassiz supported this theory for a time, but his own thermometric experiments show us that the body of the glacier is at a temperature of ° fahr.; that consequently there is no interior magazine of cold to freeze the water with which the glacier is supposed to be incessantly saturated. so that these experiments alone, if no other grounds existed, would prove the insufficiency of the theory of dilatation. i may however add, that the arguments most frequently urged against this theory deal with an assumption, which i do not think its author ever intended to make. [sidenote: the glacier slides.] another early surmise was that of altmann and grüner ( ), both of whom conjectured that the glacier slid along its bed. this theory received distinct expression from de saussure in ; and has since been associated with the name of that great alpine traveller, being usually called the 'theory of saussure,' and sometimes the 'sliding theory.' it is briefly stated in these words:-- "almost every glacier reposes upon an inclined bed, and those of any considerable size have beneath them, even in winter, currents of water which flow between the ice and the bed which supports it. it may therefore be understood that these frozen masses, drawn down the slope on which they repose, disengaged by the water from all adhesion to the bottom, sometimes even raised by this water, must glide by little and little, and descend, following the inclinations of the valleys, or of the slopes which they cover. it is this slow but continual sliding of the ice on its inclined base which carries it into the lower valleys."[a] [sidenote: strained interpretation.] de saussure devoted but little time to the subject of glacier-motion; and the absence of completeness in the statement of his views, arising no doubt from this cause, has given subsequent writers occasion to affix what i cannot help thinking a strained interpretation to the sliding theory. it is alleged that he regarded a glacier as a perfectly rigid body; that he considered it to be "a mass of ice of small depth, and considerable but uniform breadth, sliding down a uniform valley, or pouring from a narrow valley into a wider one."[b] the introduction "of the smallest flexibility or plasticity" is moreover emphatically denied to him.[c] it is by no means probable that the great author of the 'voyages' would have subscribed to this "rigid" annotation. his theory, be it remembered, is to some extent _true_: the glacier moves over its bed in the manner supposed, and the rocks of britain bear to this day the traces of these mighty sliders. de saussure probably contented himself with a general statement of what he believed to be the substantial cause of the motion. he visited the jardin, and saw the tributaries of the mer de glace turning round corners, welding themselves together, and afterwards moving through a sinuous trunk-valley; and it is scarcely credible that in the presence of such facts he would have denied all flexibility to the glacier. the statement that he regarded a glacier to be a mass of ice of uniform width, is moreover plainly inconsistent with the following description of the glacier of mont dolent: "its most elevated plateau is a great circus, surrounded by high cliffs of granite, of pyramidal forms; thence the glacier descends through a gorge, in which _it is narrowed_; but after having passed the gorge, it _enlarges again_, spreading out like a fan. thus it has on the whole the form of a sheaf tied in the middle and dilated at its two extremities."[d] [sidenote: glacier of mont dolent.] curiously enough this very glacier, and these very words, are selected by m. rendu as illustrative of the plasticity of glaciers. "nothing," he says, "shows better the extent to which a glacier moulds itself to its locality than the form of the glacier of mont dolent in the valley of ferret;" and he adds, in connexion with the same passage, these remarkable words:--"there is a multitude of facts which would seem to necessitate the belief that the substance of glaciers enjoys a kind of ductility which permits it to mould itself to the locality which it occupies, to grow thin, to swell, and to narrow itself like a soft paste."[e] footnotes: [a] 'voyages,' § . [b] james d. forbes, 'occasional papers on the theory of glaciers,' , p. . [c] "i adhere to the definition as excluding the introduction of the smallest flexibility or plasticity." 'occ. pap.,' p. . [d] 'voyages,' tome ii. p. . [e] in connexion with this brief sketch of the 'sliding theory,' it ought to be stated, that mr. hopkins has proved experimentally, that ice may descend an incline at a sensibly uniform rate, and that the velocity is augmented by increasing the weight. in this remarkable experiment the motion was due to the slow disintegration of the lower surface of the ice. see 'phil. mag.,' , vol. . rendu's theory. ( .) [sidenote: rendu's character.] m. rendu, bishop of annecy, to whose writings i have just referred, died last autumn.[a] he was a man of great repute in his diocese, and we owe to him one of the most remarkable essays upon glaciers that have ever appeared. his knowledge was extensive, his reasoning close and accurate, and his faculty of observation extraordinary. with these were associated that intuitive power, that presentiment concerning things as yet untouched by experiment, which belong only to the higher class of minds. throughout his essay a constant effort after quantitative accuracy reveals itself. he collects observations, makes experiments, and tries to obtain numerical results; always taking care, however, so to state his premises and qualify his conclusions that nobody shall be led to ascribe to his numbers a greater accuracy than they merit. it is impossible to read his work, and not feel that he was a man of essentially truthful mind, and that science missed an ornament when he was appropriated by the church. the essay above referred to is printed in the tenth volume of the memoirs of the royal academy of sciences of savoy, published in , and is entitled, '_théorie des glaciers de la savoie, par m. le chanoine rendu, chevalier du mérite civil et secrétaire perpétuel_.' the paper had been written for nearly two years, and might have remained unprinted, had not another publication on the same subject called it forth. i will place a few of the leading points of this remarkable production before the reader; commencing with a generalization which is highly suggestive of the character of the author's mind. [sidenote: "theorie des glaciers de la savoie."] he reflects on the accumulation of the mountain-snows, each year adding fifty-eight inches of ice to a glacier. this would make mont blanc four hundred feet higher in a century, and four thousand feet higher in a thousand years. "it is evident," he says, "that nothing like this occurs in nature." the escape of the ice then leads him to make some general remarks on what he calls the "law of circulation." "the conserving will of the creator has employed for the permanence of his work the great law of _circulation_, which, strictly examined, is found to reproduce itself in all parts of nature. the waters circulate from the ocean to the air, from the air to the earth, and from the earth to the ocean.... the elements of organic substances circulate, passing from the solid to the liquid or aëriform condition, and thence again to the state of solidity or of organisation. that universal agent which we designate by the names of fire, light, electricity, and magnetism, has probably also a _circulation_ as wide as the universe." the italics here are rendu's own. this was published in , but written, we are informed, nearly two years before. in mr. grove wrote thus:--"light, heat, magnetism, motion, and chemical affinity, are all convertible material affections." more recently helmholtz, speaking of the "circuit" formed by "heat, light, electricity, magnetism, and chemical affinity," writes thus:--"starting from each of these different manifestations of natural forces, we can set every other in action." i quote these passages because they refer to the same agents as those named by m. rendu, and to which he ascribes "_circulation_." can it be doubted that this savoyard priest had a premonition of the conservation of force? i do not want to lay more stress than it deserves upon a conjecture of this kind; but its harmony with an essay remarkable for its originality gives it a significance which, if isolated, it might not possess. [sidenote: glaciers rightly divided.] with regard to the glaciers, rendu commences by dividing them into two kinds, or rather the selfsame glacier into two parts, one of which he calls the "_glacier réservoir_," the other the "_glacier d'écoulement_,"--two terms highly suggestive of the physical relationship of the _névé_ and the glacier proper. he feeds the reservoirs from three sources, the principal one of which is the snow, to which he adds the rain, and the vapours which are condensed upon the heights without passing into the state of either rain or snow. the conversion of the snow into ice he supposes to be effected by four different causes, the most efficacious of which is _pressure_.[b] it is needless to remark that this quite agrees with the views now generally entertained. in page of the volume referred to there is a passage which shows that the "veined structure" of the glacier had not escaped him, though it would seem that he ascribed it to stratification. "when," he writes, "we perceive the profile of a glacier on the walls of a crevasse, we see different layers distinct in colour, but more particularly in density; some seem to have the hardness, as they have the greenish colour, of glass; others preserve the whiteness and porosity of the snow." there is also a very close resemblance between his views of the influence of "time and cohesion" and those of prof. forbes. "we may conclude," he writes, "that _time_, favouring the action of _affinity_, and the pressure of the layers one upon the other, causes the little crystals of which snow is composed to approach each other, bring them into contact, and convert them into ice."[c] regelation also appears to have attracted his notice.[d] "when we fill an ice-house," he writes, "we break the ice into very small fragments; afterwards we wet it with water or degrees above zero (cent.) in temperature; but, notwithstanding this, the whole is converted into a compact mass of ice." he moreover maintains, in almost the same language as prof. forbes,[e] the opinion, that ice has always an inner temperature lower than zero (cent.). he believed this to be a property "inherent to ice." "never," he says, "can a calorific ray pass the first surface of ice to raise the temperature of the interior."[f] [sidenote: observations and hypotheses.] he notices the direction of the glacier as influencing the wasting of its ridges by the sun's heat; ascribing to it the effect to which i have referred in explaining the wave-like forms upon the surface of the mer de glace. his explanation of the moulins, too, though insufficient, assigns a true cause, and is an excellent specimen of physical reasoning. with regard to the diminution of the _glaciers réservoirs_, or, in other words, to the manner in which the ice disappears, notwithstanding the continual additions made to it, we have the following remarkable passage:--"in seeking the cause of the diminution of glaciers, it has occurred to my mind that the ice, notwithstanding its hardness and its rigidity, can only support a given pressure without breaking or being squeezed out. according to this supposition, whenever the pressure exceeds that force, there will be rupture of the ice, and a flow in consequence. let us take, at the summit of mont blanc, a column of ice reposing on a horizontal base. the ice which forms the first layer of that column is compressed by the weight of all the layers above it; but if the solidity of the said first layer can only support a weight equal to , when the weight exceeds this amount there will be rupture and spreading out of the ice of the base. now, something very similar occurs in the immense crust of ice which covers the summits of mont blanc. this crust appears to augment at the upper surface and to diminish by the sides. to assure oneself that the movement is due to the force of pressure, it would be necessary to make a series of experiments upon the solidity of ice, such as have not yet been attempted."[g] i may remark that such experiments substantially verify m. rendu's notion. but it is his observations and reasoning upon the _glaciers d'écoulement_ that chiefly interest us. the passages in his writings where he insists upon the power of the glaciers to mould themselves to their localities, and compares them to a soft paste, to lava at once ductile and liquid, are well known from the frequent and flattering references of professor forbes; but there are others of much greater importance, which have hitherto remained unknown in this country. regarding the motion of the mer de glace, rendu writes as follows:-- [sidenote: measurement of motion.] [sidenote: the sides of the glacier retarded.] "i sought to appreciate the quantity of its motion; but i could only collect rather vague data. i questioned my guides regarding the position of an enormous rock at the edge of the glacier, but still upon the ice, and consequently partaking of its motion. the guides showed me the place where it stood the preceding year, and where it had stood two, three, four, and five years previously; they showed me the place where it would be found in a year, in two years, &c.; _so certain are they of the regularity of the motion_. their reports, however, did not always agree precisely with each other, and their indications of time and distance lack the precision without which we proceed obscurely in the physical sciences. in reducing these different indications to a mean, i found the total advance of the glacier to be about feet a year. during my last journey i obtained more certain data, which i have stated in the preceding chapter. _the enormous difference between the two results arises from the fact that the latter observations were made at the centre of the glacier_, which moves more rapidly, _while the former were made at the side, where the ice_ is retained by the friction against its rocky walls."[h] an opinion, founded on a grave misapprehension which rendu enables us to correct, is now prevalent in this country, not only among the general public, but also among those of the first rank in science. the nature of the mistake will be immediately apparent. at page of the 'travels in the alps' its distinguished author gives a sketch of the state of our knowledge of glacier-motion previous to the commencement of his inquiries. he cites ebel, hugi, agassiz, bakewell, de la beche, shirwell, rendu, and places them in open contradiction to each other. rendu, he says, gives the motion of the mer de glace to be " feet per annum; feet per annum; a foot a day; feet per annum, and feet per annum, or _one-tenth_ of the last!" ... and he adds, "i was not therefore wrong in supposing that the actual progress of a glacier was yet a new problem when i commenced my observations on the mer de glace in ."[i] in the 'north british review' for august, , a writer equally celebrated for the brilliancy of his discoveries and the vigour of his pen, collected the data furnished by the above paragraph into a table, which he introduced to his readers in the following words:--"it is to professor forbes alone that we owe the first and most correct researches respecting the motion of glaciers; and in proof of this, we have only to give the following list of observations which had been previously made. observers. name of glacier. annual rate of motion. ebel chamouni feet ebel grindelwald " hugi aar " agassiz aar " bakewell mer de glace " de la beche mer de glace " shirwell mer de glace " m. rendu mer de glace " saussure's ladder mer de glace " ... such was the state of our knowledge when professor forbes undertook the investigation of the subject." i am persuaded that the writer of this article will be the first to applaud any attempt to remove an error which, advanced on his great authority, must necessarily be widely disseminated. the numbers in the above table certainly differ widely, and it is perhaps natural to conclude that such discordant results can be of no value; but the fact really is that _every one of them may be perfectly correct_. this fact, though overlooked by professor forbes, was clearly seen by rendu, who pointed out with perfect distinctness the sources from which the discrepancies were derived. [sidenote: discrepancies explained.] "it is easy," he says, "to comprehend that it is impossible to obtain a general measure,--that there ought to be one for each particular glacier. the nature of the slope, the number of changes to which it is subjected, the depth of the ice, the width of the couloir, the form of its sides, and a thousand other circumstances, must produce variations in the velocity of the glacier, and these circumstances cannot be everywhere absolutely the same. much more, it is not easy to obtain this velocity for a single glacier, and for this reason. in those portions where the inclination is steep, the layer of ice is thin, and its velocity is great; in those where the slope is almost nothing, the glacier swells and accumulates; the mass in motion being double, triple, &c., the motion is only the half, the third, &c. [sidenote: liquid motion ascribed to glacier.] "but this is not all," adds m. rendu: "_between the mer de glace and a river, there is a resemblance so complete that it is impossible to find in the latter a circumstance which does not exist in the former._ in currents of water the motion is not uniform, neither throughout their width nor throughout their depth; _the friction of the bottom, that of the sides_, the action of obstacles, cause the motion to vary, _and only towards the middle of the surface is this entire...._"[j] in professor forbes appears to have come to the same conclusion as m. rendu; for after it had been proved that the centre of the aar glacier moved quicker than the side in the ratio of fourteen to one, he accepted the result in these words:--"the movement of the centre of the glacier is to that of a point five mètres from the edge as fourteen to one: such is the effect of plasticity!"[k] indeed, if the differences exhibited in the table were a proof of error, the observations of professor forbes himself would fare very ill. the measurements of glacier-motion made with his own hands vary from less than feet a year to feet a year, the minimum being less than _one-twentieth_ of the maximum; and if we include the observations made by balmat, the fidelity of which has been certified by professor forbes, the minimum is only _one-thirty-seventh_ of the maximum. [sidenote: north british review.] there is another point connected with rendu's theory which needs clearing up:--"the idea," writes the eminent reviewer, "that a glacier is a semifluid body is no doubt startling, especially to those who have seen the apparently rigid ice of which it is composed. m. rendu himself shrank from the idea, and did not scruple to say that 'the rigidity of a mass of ice was in direct opposition to it;' and we think that professor forbes himself must have stood aghast when his fancy first associated the notion of imperfect fluidity with the solid or even the fissured ice of the glacier, and when he saw in his mind's eye the glaciers of the alps flowing like a river along their rugged bed. a truth like this was above the comprehension and beyond the sympathy of the age; and it required a moral power of no common intensity to submit it to the ordeal of a shallow philosophy, and the sneers of a presumptuous criticism." these are strong words; but the fact is that, so far from "shrinking" from the idea, rendu affirmed, with a clearness and an emphasis which have not been exceeded since, that all the phenomena of a river were reproduced upon the mer de glace; its deeps, its shallows, its widenings, its narrowings, its rapids, its places of slow motion, and the quicker flow of its centre than of its sides. he did not shrink from accepting a difference between the central and lateral motion amounting to a ratio of ten to one--a ratio so large that professor forbes at one time regarded the acceptance of it as a simple absurdity. in this he was perhaps justified; for his own first observations, which, however valuable, were hasty and incomplete, gave him a maximum ratio of about one and a half to one, while the ratio in some cases was nearly one of _equality_. the observations of agassiz however show that the ratio, instead of being ten to one, may be _infinity_ to one; for the lateral ice may be so held back by a local obstacle that in the course of a year it shall make no sensible advance at all. [sidenote: the ice and the glacier.] from one thing only did m. rendu shrink; and it is _the_ thing regarding which we are still disunited. he shrank from stating the physical quality of the ice in virtue of which a glacier moved like a river. he demands experiments upon snow and ice to elucidate this subject. the very observations which professor forbes regards as proofs are those of which we require the physical explanation. it is not the viscous flow, if you please to call it such, of the glacier as a whole that here concerns us; but it is the quality of the _ice_ in virtue of which this kind of motion is accomplished. professor forbes sees this difference clearly enough: he speaks of "fissured ice" being "flexible" in hand specimens; he compares the glacier to a mixture of ice and sand; and finally, in a more matured paper, falls back for an explanation upon the observations of agassiz regarding the capillaries of the glacier.[l] footnotes: [a] expressions such as "last summer," "last autumn," "recently," will be taken throughout in the sense which they had in the early half of , when this book was first published.--l. c. t. [b] 'memoir,' p. . [c] p. . [d] p. . [e] 'philosophical magazine,' . [f] 'memoir,' p. . [g] page . [h] page . [i] at page of the 'travels' the following passage also occurs:--"i believe that i may safely affirm that not one observation of the rate of motion of a glacier, either on the average or at any particular season of the year, existed when i commenced my experiments in ." [j] 'théorie,' p. . [k] 'occ. pap.,' p. . [l] in all that has been written upon glaciers in this country the above passages from the writings of rendu are unquoted; and many who mingled very warmly in the discussions of the subject were, until quite recently, ignorant of their existence. i was long in this condition myself, for i never supposed that passages which bear so directly upon a point so much discussed, and of such cardinal import, could have been overlooked; or that the task of calling attention to them should devolve upon myself nearly twenty years after their publication. now that they are discovered, i conceive no difference of opinion can exist as to the propriety of placing them in their true position. ( .) the measurements of agassiz and forbes completely verify the anticipations of rendu; but no writer with whom i am acquainted has added anything essential to the bishop's statements as to the identity of glacier and liquid motion. he laid down the conditions of the problem with perfect clearness, and, as regards the distribution of merit, the point to be decided is the relative importance of his idea, and of the measurements which were subsequently made. [sidenote: observations of forbes.] the observations on which professor forbes based the analogy between a glacier and a river are the following:--in he fixed four marks upon the mer de glace a little below the montanvert, the first of which was yards distant from the side of the glacier, while the last was at the centre "or a little beyond it." the relative velocity of these four points was found to be . . . . . the first observations were made upon two of these points, two others being subsequently added. professor forbes also determined the velocity of two points on the glacier du géant, and found the ratio of motion, in the first instance, to be as to . subsequent measurements, however, showed the ratio to be as to , the larger motion belonging to the station nearest to the centre of the glacier. these are the only measurements which i can find in his large work that establish the swifter motion of the centre of the glacier; and in these cases the velocity of the centre is compared with that of _one side_ only. in no instance that i am aware of, either in or subsequent years, did professor forbes extend his measurements quite across a glacier; and as regards completeness in this respect, no observations hitherto made can at all compare with those executed at the instance of agassiz upon the glacier of the aar. in professor forbes made a series of interesting experiments on a portion of the mer de glace near l'angle. he divided a length of feet into equal spaces, and fixed pins at the end of each. his theodolite was placed upon the ice, and in seventeen days he found that the ice feet nearer the centre than the theodolite had moved inches past the latter. these measurements were undertaken for a special object, and completely answered the end for which they were intended. in professor forbes made another important observation. fixing three stakes at the heights of , , and feet above the bed of the glacier, he found that in five days they moved respectively . , . , and . feet. the stake nearest the bed moved most slowly, thus showing that the ice is retarded by friction. this result was subsequently verified by the measurements of m. martins, and by my own. if we add to the above an observation made during a short visit to the aletsch glacier in , which showed its lateral retardation, i believe we have before us the whole of the measurements executed by professor forbes, which show the analogy between the motion of a glacier and that of a viscous body. [sidenote: measurements of agassiz.] illustrative of the same point, we have the elaborate and extensive series of measurements executed by m. wild under the direction of m. agassiz upon the glacier of the aar in , , , and , which exhibit on a grand scale, and in the most conclusive manner, the character of the motion of this glacier; and also show, on close examination, an analogy with fluid motion which neither m. agassiz nor professor forbes suspected. the former philosopher publishes a section in his 'système glaciaire,' entitled 'migrations of the centre;' in which he shows that the middle of the glacier is not always the point of swiftest motion. the detection of this fact demonstrates the attention devoted by m. agassiz to the discussion of his observations, but he gives no clue to the cause of the variation. on inspecting the shape of the valley through which the aar glacier moves, i find that these "migrations" follow the law established in upon the mer de glace, and enunciated at page . to sum up this part of the question:--the _idea_ of semi-fluid motion belongs entirely to rendu; the _proof_ of the quicker central flow belongs in part to rendu, but almost wholly to agassiz and forbes; the proof of the retardation of the bed belongs to forbes alone; while the discovery of the locus of the point of maximum motion belongs, i suppose, to me. forbes's theory. ( .) the formal statement of this theory is given in the following words:--"a glacier is an imperfect fluid, or viscous body, which is urged down slopes of a certain inclination by the mutual pressure of its parts." the consistency of the glacier is illustrated by reference to treacle, honey, and tar, and the theory thus enunciated and exemplified is called the 'viscous theory.' it has been the subject of much discussion, and great differences of opinion are still entertained regarding it. able and sincere men take opposite sides; and the extraordinary number of reviews which have appeared upon the subject during the last two years show the interest which the intellectual public of england take in the question. the chief differences of opinion turn upon the inquiry as to what professor forbes really meant when he propounded the viscous theory; some affirm one thing, some another, and, singularly enough, these differences continue, though the author of the theory has at various times published expositions of his views. [sidenote: "facts and principles."] the differences referred to arise from the circumstances that a sufficient distinction has not been observed between _facts_ and _principles_, and that the viscous theory has assumed various forms since its first promulgation. it has been stated to me that the theory of professor forbes is "the congeries of facts" which he has discovered. but it is quite evident that no recognition, however ample, of these facts would be altogether satisfactory to professor forbes himself. he claims recognition of his _theory_,[a] and no writer with whom i am acquainted makes such frequent use of the term. what then can the viscous theory mean apart from the facts? i interpret it as furnishing the principle from which the facts follow as physical consequences--that the glacier moves as a river because the ice is viscous. in this sense only can professor forbes's views be called a theory; in any other, his experiments are mere illustrations of the facts of glacier motion, which do not carry us a hair's breadth towards their physical cause. [sidenote: viscous theory;--what is it?] what then is the meaning of viscosity or viscidity? i have heard it defined by men of high culture as "gluey tenacity;" and such tenacity they once supposed a glacier to possess. if we dip a spoon into treacle, honey, or tar, we can draw the substance out into filaments, and the same may be done with melted caoutchouc or lava. all these substances are viscous, and all of them have been chosen to illustrate the physical property in virtue of which a glacier moves. viscosity then consists in the power of being drawn out when subjected to a force of tension, the substance, after stretching, being in a state of molecular equilibrium, or, in other words, devoid of that elasticity which would restore it to its original form. this certainly was the idea attached to professor forbes's words by some of his most strenuous supporters, and also by eminent men who have never taken part in any controversy on the subject. mr. darwin, for example, speaks of felspathic rocks being "stretched" while flowing slowly onwards in a pasty condition, in precisely the same manner as professor forbes believes that the ice of moving glaciers is stretched and fissured; and professor forbes himself quotes these words of mr. darwin as illustrative of his theory.[b] the question now before us is,--does a glacier exhibit that power of yielding to a force of tension which would entitle its ice to be regarded as a viscous substance? [sidenote: theory tested.] with a view to the solution of this question mr. hirst took for me the inclinations of the mer de glace and all its tributaries in ; the effect of a change of inclination being always noted. i will select from those measurements a few which bear more specially upon the subject now under consideration, commencing with the glacier des bois, down which the ice moves in that state of wild dislocation already described. the inclination of the glacier above this cascade is ° ', and that of the cascade itself is ° ', the change of inclination being therefore ° '. [illustration: fig. . inclinations of ice cascasde of the glacier des bois.] in fig. i have protracted the inclination of the cascade and of the glacier above it; the line a b representing the former and b c the latter. now a stream of molten lava, of treacle, or tar, would, in virtue of its viscosity, be able to flow over the brow at b without breaking across; but this is not the case with the glacier; it is so smashed and riven in crossing this brow, that, to use the words of professor forbes himself, "it pours into the valley beneath in a cascade of icy fragments." [sidenote: inclinations of the mer de glace.] but this reasoning will appear much stronger when we revert to other slopes upon the mer de glace. for example, its inclination above l'angle is °, and it afterwards descends a slope of ° ', the change of inclination being ° '. if we protract these inclinations to scale, we have the line a b, fig. , representing the steeper slope, and b c that of the glacier above it. one would surely think that a viscous body could cross the brow b without transverse fracture, but this the glacier cannot do, and professor forbes himself pronounces this portion of the mer de glace impassable. indeed it was the profound crevasses here formed which placed me in a difficulty already referred to. higher up again, the glacier is broken on passing from a slope of ° ' to one of °. such observations show how differently constituted a glacier is from a stream of lava in a "pasty condition," or of treacle, honey, tar, or melted caoutchouc, to all which it has been compared. in the next section i shall endeavour to explain the origin of the crevasses, and shall afterwards make a few additional remarks on the alleged viscosity of ice. [illustration: fig. . inclinations of mer de glace above l'angle.] footnotes: [a] "mr. hopkins," writes professor forbes, "has done me the honour, in the memoirs before alluded to, to mention with approbation my observations and experiments on the subject of glaciers. he has been more sparing either in praise or criticism of the theory which i have founded upon them. had mr. hopkins," &c.--_eighth letter_; 'occ. papers,' p. . [b] 'occ. papers,' p. . the crevasses. ( .) [sidenote: crevasses caused by the motion.] having made ourselves acquainted with the motion of the glacier, we are prepared to examine those rents, fissures, chasms, or, as they are most usually called, _crevasses_, by which all glaciers are more or less intersected. they result from the motion of the glacier, and the laws of their formation are deduced immediately from those of the motion. the crevasses are sometimes very deep and numerous, and apparently without law or order in their distribution. they cut the ice into long ridges, and break these ridges transversely into prisms; these prisms gradually waste away, assuming, according to the accidents of their melting, the most fantastic forms. i have seen them like the mutilated statuary of an ancient temple, like the crescent moon, like huge birds with outstretched wings, like the claws of lobsters, and like antlered deer. such fantastic sculpture is often to be found on the ice cascades, where the riven glacier has piled vast blocks on vaster pedestals, and presented them to the wasting action of sun and air. in fig. i have given a sketch of a mass of ice of this character, which stood in on the dislocated slope of the glacier des bois. [sidenote: fantastic ice-masses.] [illustration: fig. . fantastic mass of ice.] it is usual for visitors to the montanvert to descend to the glacier, and to be led by their guides to the edges of the crevasses, where, being firmly held, they look down into them; but those who have only made their acquaintance in this way know but little of their magnitude and beauty in the more disturbed portions of glaciers. as might be expected, they have been the graves of many a mountaineer; and the skeletons found upon the glacier prove that even the chamois itself, with its elastic muscles and admirable sureness of foot, is not always safe among the crevasses. they are grandest in the higher ice-regions, where the snow hangs like a coping over their edges, and the water trickling from these into the gloom forms splendid icicles. the görner glacier, as we ascend it towards the old weissthor, presents many fine examples of such crevasses; the ice being often torn in a most curious and irregular manner. you enter a porch, pillared by icicles, and look into a cavern in the very body of the glacier, encumbered with vast frozen bosses which are fringed all round by dependent icicles. at the peril of your life from slipping, or from the yielding of the stalactites, you may enter these caverns, and find yourself steeped in the blue illumination of the place. their beauty is beyond description; but you cannot deliver yourself up, heart and soul, to its enjoyment. there is a strangeness about the place which repels you, and not without anxiety do you look from your ledge into the darkness below, through which the sound of subglacial water sometimes rises like the tolling of distant bells. you feel that, however the cold splendours of the place might suit a purely spiritual essence, they are not congenial to flesh and blood, and you gladly escape from its magnificence to the sunshine of the world above. [sidenote: birth of a crevasse.] from their numbers it might be inferred that the formation of crevasses is a thing of frequent occurrence and easy to observe; but in reality it is very rarely observed. simond was a man of considerable experience upon the ice, but the first crevasse he ever saw formed was during the setting out of one of our lines, when a narrow rent opened beneath his feet, and propagated itself through the ice with loud cracking for a distance of or yards. crevasses always commence in this way as mere narrow cracks, which open very slowly afterwards. i will here describe the only case of crevasse-forming which has come under my direct observation. on the st of july, , mr. hirst and myself, having completed our day's work, were standing together upon the glacier du géant, when a loud dull sound, like that produced by a heavy blow, seemed to issue from the body of the ice underneath the spot on which we stood. this was succeeded by a series of sharp reports, which were heard sometimes above us, sometimes below us, sometimes apparently close under our feet, the intervals between the louder reports being filled by a low singing noise. we turned hither and thither as the direction of the sounds varied; for the glacier was evidently breaking beneath our feet, though we could discern no trace of rupture. for an hour the sounds continued without our being able to discover their source; this at length revealed itself by a rush of air-bubbles from one of the little pools upon the surface of the glacier, which was intersected by the newly-formed crevasse. we then traced it for some distance up and down, but hardly at any place was it sufficiently wide to permit the blade of my penknife to enter it. m. agassiz has given an animated description of the terror of his guides upon a similar occasion, and there was an element of awe in our own feelings as we heard the evening stillness of the glacier thus disturbed. [sidenote: mechanical origin.] with regard to the mechanical origin of the crevasses the most vague and untenable notions had been entertained until mr. hopkins published his extremely valuable papers. to him, indeed, we are almost wholly indebted for our present knowledge of the subject, my own experiments upon this portion of the glacier-question being for the most part illustrations of the truth of his reasoning. to understand the fissures in their more complex aspects it is necessary that we should commence with their elements. i shall deal with the question in my own way, adhering, however, to the mechanical principles upon which mr. hopkins has based his exposition. [illustration: fig. . diagram explanatory of the mechanical origin of crevasses.] let a b, c d, be the bounding sides of a glacier moving in the direction of the arrow; let _m_, _n_ be two points upon the ice, one, _m_, close to the retarding side of the valley, and the other, _n_, at some distance from it. after a certain time, the point _m_ will have moved downwards to _m'_, but in consequence of the swifter movement of the parts at a distance from the sides, _n_ will have moved in the same time to _n'_. thus the line _m n_, instead of being at right angles to the glacier, takes up the oblique position _m' n'_; but to reach from _m'_ to _n'_ the line _m n_ would have to stretch itself considerably; every other line that we can draw upon the ice parallel to _m' n'_ is in a similar state of tension; or, in other words, the sides of the glacier are acted upon by an oblique pull towards the centre. now, mr. hopkins has shown that the direction in which this oblique pull is strongest encloses an angle of ° with the side of the glacier. [sidenote: line of greatest strain.] [illustration: fig. . diagram showing the line of greatest strain.] what is the consequence of this? let a b, c d, fig. , represent, as before, the sides of the glacier, moving in the direction of the arrow; let the shading lines enclose an angle of ° with the sides. _along_ these lines the marginal ice suffers the greatest strain, and, consequently _across_ these lines and at right angles to them, the ice tends to break and to form _marginal crevasses_. the lines, _o p_, _o p_, mark the direction of these crevasses; they are at right angles to the line of greatest strain, and hence also enclose an angle of ° with the side of the valley, _being obliquely pointed upwards_. [sidenote: marginal and transverse crevasses.] this latter result is noteworthy; it follows from the mechanical data that the swifter motion of the centre tends to produce marginal crevasses which are inclined from the side of the glacier towards its source, and not towards its lower extremity. but when we look down upon a glacier thus crevassed, the first impression is that the sides have been dragged down, and have left the central portions behind them; indeed, it was this very appearance that led m. de charpentier and m. agassiz into the error of supposing that the sides of a glacier moved more quickly than its middle portions; and it was also the delusive aspect of the crevasses which led professor forbes to infer the slower motion of the eastern side of the mer de glace. the retardation of the ice is most evident near the sides; in most cases, the ice for a considerable distance right and left of the central line moves with a sensibly uniform velocity; there is no dragging of the particles asunder by a difference of motion, and, consequently, a compact centre is perfectly compatible with fissured sides. nothing is more common than to see a glacier with its sides deeply cut, and its central portions compact; this, indeed, is always the case where the glacier moves down a bed of uniform inclination. but supposing that the bed is not uniform--that the valley through which the glacier moves changes its inclination abruptly, so as to compel the ice to pass over a brow; the glacier is then circumstanced like a stick which we try to break by holding its two ends and pressing it against the knee. the brow, where the bed changes its inclination, represents the knee in the case of the stick, while the weight of the glacier itself is the force that tends to break it. it breaks; and fissures are formed across the glacier, which are hence called _transverse crevasses_. [sidenote: grindelwald glacier.] no glacier with which i am acquainted illustrates the mechanical laws just developed more clearly and fully than the lower glacier of grindelwald. proceeding along the ordinary track beside the glacier, at about an hour's distance from the village the traveller reaches a point whence a view of the glacier is obtained from the heights above it. the marginal fissures are very cleanly cut, and point nearly in the direction already indicated; the glacier also changes its inclination several times along the distance within the observer's view. on crossing each brow the glacier is broken across, and a series of transverse crevasses is formed, which follow each other down the slope. at the bottom of the slope tension gives place to pressure, the walls of the crevasses are squeezed together, and the chasms closed up. they remain closed along the comparatively level space which stretches between the base of one slope and the brow of the next; but here the glacier is again transversely broken, and continues so until the base of the second slope is reached, where longitudinal pressure instead of longitudinal strain begins to act, and the fissures are closed as before. in fig. a i have given a sketchy section of a portion of the glacier, illustrating the formation of the crevasses at the top of a slope, and their subsequent obliteration at its base. [sidenote: compression and tension.] [illustration: fig. a, b. section and plan of a portion of the lower grindelwald glacier.] another effect is here beautifully shown, namely, the union of the transverse and marginal crevasses to form continuous fissures which stretch quite across the glacier. fig. b will illustrate my meaning, though very imperfectly; it represents a plan of a portion of the lower grindelwald glacier, with both marginal and transverse fissures drawn upon it. i have placed it under the section so that each part of it may show in plan the portion of the glacier which is shown in section immediately above it. it shows how the marginal crevasses remain after the compression of the centre has obliterated the transverse ones; and how the latter join on to the former, so as to form continuous fissures, which sweep across the glacier in vast curves, with their convexities turned upwards. the illusion before referred to is here strengthened; the crevasses turn, so to say, _against_ the direction of motion, instead of forming loops, with their convexities pointing downwards, and thus would impress a person unacquainted with the mechanical data with the idea that the glacier margins moved more quickly than the centre. the figures are intended to convey the idea merely; on the actual slopes of the glacier between twenty and thirty chasms may be counted: also the word "compression" ought to have been limited to the level portions of the sketch. [sidenote: longitudinal crevasses.] besides the two classes of fissures mentioned we often find others, which are neither marginal nor transverse. the terminal portions of many glaciers, for example, are in a state of compression; the snout of the glacier abuts against the ground, and having to bear the thrust of the mass behind it, if it have room to expand laterally, the ice will yield, and _longitudinal crevasses_ will be formed. they are of very common occurrence, but the finest example of the kind is perhaps exhibited by the glacier of the rhone. after escaping from the steep gorge which holds the cascade, this glacier encounters the bottom of a comparatively wide and level valley; the resistance to its forward motion is augmented, while its ability to expand laterally is increased; it has to bear a longitudinal thrust, and it splits at right angles to the pressure [strain?]. a series of fissures is thus formed, the central ones of which are truly longitudinal; but on each side of the central line the crevasses diverge, and exhibit a fan-like arrangement. this disposition of the fissures is beautifully seen from the summit of the mayenwand on the grimsel pass. [illustration: fig. . diagram illustrating the crevassing of convex sides of glacier.] here then we have the elements, so to speak, of glacier-crevassing, and through their separate or combined action the most fantastic cutting up of a glacier may be effected. and see how beautifully these simple principles enable us to account for the remarkable crevassing of the eastern side of the mer de glace. let a b, c d, be the opposite sides of a portion of the glacier, near the montanvert; c d being east, and a b west, the glacier moving in the direction of the arrow; let the points _m n_ represent the extremities of our line of stakes, and let us suppose an elastic string stretched across the glacier from one to the other. we have proved that the point of maximum motion here lies much nearer to the side c d than to a b. let _o_ be this point, and, seizing the string at _o_, let it be drawn in the direction of motion until it assumes the position, _m_, _o'_, _n_. it is quite evident that _o' n_ is in a state greater tension than _o' m_, and the ice at the eastern side of the mer de glace is in a precisely similar mechanical condition. it suffers a greater strain than the ice at the opposite side of the valley, and hence is more fissured and broken. thus we see that the crevassing of the eastern side of the glacier is a simple consequence of the quicker motion of that side, and does not, as hitherto supposed, demonstrate its slower motion. the reason why the eastern side of the glacier, as a whole, is much more fissured than the western side is, that there are two long segments which turn their convex curvature eastward, and only one segment of the glacier which turns its convexity westward. [sidenote: crevassing of convex side.] the lower portion of the rhone glacier sweeps round the side of the valley next the furca, and turns throughout a convex curve to this side: the crevasses here are wide and frequent, while they are almost totally absent at the opposite side of the glacier. the lower grindelwald glacier turns at one place a convex curve towards the eiger, and is much more fissured at that side than at the opposite one; indeed, the fantastic ice-splinters, columns, and minarets, which are so finely exhibited upon this glacier, are mainly due to the deep crevassing of the convex side. numerous other illustrations of the law might, i doubt not, be discovered, and it would be a pleasant and useful occupation to one who takes an interest in the subject, to determine, by strict measurements upon other glaciers, the locus of the point of maximum motion, and to observe the associated mechanical effects. [sidenote: bergschrunds.] the appearance of crevasses is often determined by circumstances more local and limited than those above indicated; a boss of rock, a protuberance on the side of the flanking mountain, anything, in short, which checks the motion of one part of the ice and permits an adjacent portion to be pushed away from it, produces crevasses. some valleys are terminated by a kind of mountain-circus with steep sides, against which the snow rises to a considerable height. as the mass is urged downwards, the lower portion of the snow-slope is often torn away from its higher portion, and a chasm is formed, which usually extends round the head of the valley. to such a crevasse the specific name _bergschrund_ is applied in the bernese alps; i have referred to one of them in the account of the "passage of the strahleck." ( .) the phenomena described and accounted for in the last chapter have a direct bearing upon the question of viscosity. in virtue of the quicker central flow the lateral ice is subject to an oblique strain; but, instead of stretching, it breaks, and marginal crevasses are formed. we also see that a slight curvature in the valley, by throwing an additional strain upon one half of the glacier, produces an augmented crevassing of that side. but it is known that a substance confessedly viscous may be broken by a sudden shock or strain. professor forbes justly observes that sealing-wax at moderate temperatures will mould itself (with time) to the most delicate inequalities of the surface on which it rests, but may at the same time be shivered to atoms by the blow of a hammer. hence, in order to estimate the weight of the objection that a glacier breaks when subjected to strain, we must know the conditions under which the force is applied. the mer de glace has been shown (p. ) to move through the neck of the valley at trélaporte at the rate of twenty inches a day. let the sides of this page represent the boundaries of the glacier at trélaporte, and any one of its lines of print a transverse slice of ice. supposing the line to move down the page as the slice of ice moves down the valley, then the bending of the ice in twenty-four hours, shown on such a scale, would only be sufficient to push forward the centre in advance of the sides by a very small fraction of the width of the line of print. to such an extremely gradual strain the ice is unable to accommodate itself without fracture. [sidenote: numerical test of viscosity.] or, referring to actual numbers:--the stake no. on our th line, page , stood on the lateral moraine of the mer de glace; and between it and no. a distance of feet intervened. let a b, fig. , be the side of the glacier, moving in the direction of the arrow, and let _a b c d_ be a square upon the glacier with a side of feet. the whole square moves with the ice, but the side _b d_ moves quickest; the point _a_ moving inches, while _b_ moves . inches in hours; the differential motion therefore amounts to an inch in five hours. let _a b' d' c_ be the shape of the figure after five hours' motion; then the line _a b_ would be extended to _a b'_ and _c d_ to _c d'_. [illustration: fig. . diagram illustrating test of viscosity.] the extension of _these_ lines does not however express the _maximum_ strain to which the ice is subjected. mr. hopkins has shown that this takes place along the line _a d_; in five hours then this line, if capable of stretching, would be stretched to _a d'_. from the data given every boy who has mastered the th proposition of the first book of euclid can find the length both of _a d_ and _a d'_; the former is . inches, and the latter is . , the difference between them being seven-tenths of an inch. this is the amount of yielding required from the ice in five hours, but it cannot grant this; the glacier breaks, and numerous marginal crevasses are formed. it must not be forgotten that the evidence here adduced merely shows what ice cannot do; what it _can_ do in the way of viscous yielding we do not know: there exists as yet no single experiment on great masses or small to show that ice possesses in any sensible degree that power of being drawn out which seems to be the very essence of viscosity. i have already stated that the crevasses, on their first formation, are exceedingly narrow rents, which widen very slowly. the new crevasse observed by our guide required several days to attain a width of three inches; while that observed by mr. hirst and myself did not widen a single inch in three days. this, i believe, is the general character of the crevasses; they form suddenly and open slowly. both facts are at variance with the idea that ice is viscous; for were this substance capable of stretching at the slow rate at which the fissures widen, there would be no necessity for their formation. [sidenote: stretching of ice not proved.] it cannot be too clearly and emphatically stated that the _proved_ fact of a glacier conforming to the law of semi-fluid motion is a thing totally different from the _alleged_ fact of its being viscous. nobody since its first enunciation disputed the former. i had no doubt of it when i repaired to the glaciers in ; and none of the eminent men who have discussed this question with professor forbes have thrown any doubt upon his measurements. it is the assertion that small pieces of ice are proved to be viscous[a] by the experiments made upon glaciers, and the consequent impression left upon the public mind--that ice possesses the "gluey tenacity" which the term viscous suggests--to which these observations are meant to apply. footnotes: [a] "the viscosity, though it cannot be traced in the parts _if very minute_ nevertheless _exists_ there, as unequivocally proved by experiments on the large scale."--forbes in 'phil. mag.,' vol. x., p. . heat and work. ( .) [sidenote: connexion of natural forces.] great scientific principles, though usually announced by individuals, are often merely the distinct expression of thoughts and convictions which had long been entertained by all advanced investigators. thus the more profound philosophic thinkers had long suspected a certain equivalence and connexion between the various forces of nature; experiment had shown the direct connexion and mutual convertibility of many of them, and the spiritual insight, which, in the case of the true experimenter, always surrounds and often precedes the work of his hands, revealed more or less plainly that natural forces either had a common root, or that they formed a circle, whose links were so connected that by starting from any one of them we could go through the circuit, and arrive at the point from which we set out. for the last eighteen years this subject has occupied the attention of some of the ablest natural philosophers, both in this country and on the continent. the connexion, however, which has most occupied their minds is that between _heat_ and _work_; the absolute numerical equivalence of the two having, i believe, been first announced by a german physician named mayer, and experimentally proved in this country by mr. joule. [sidenote: mechanical equivalent of heat.] a lead bullet may be made hot enough to burn the hand, by striking it with a hammer, or by rubbing it against a board; a clever blacksmith can make a nail red-hot by hammering it; count rumford boiled water by the heat developed in the boring of cannon, and inferred from the experiment that heat was not what it was generally supposed to be, an imponderable fluid, but a kind of motion generated by the friction. now mr. joule's experiments enable us to state the exact amount of heat which a definite expenditure of mechanical force can originate. i say _originate_, not drag from any hiding-place in which it had concealed itself, but actually bring into existence, so that the total amount of heat in the universe is thereby augmented. if a mass of iron fall from a tower feet in height, we can state the precise amount of heat developed by its collision with the earth. supposing all the heat thus generated to be concentrated in the iron itself, its temperature would thereby be raised nearly ° fahr. gravity in this case has expended a certain amount of force in pulling the iron to the earth, and this force is the _mechanical equivalent_ of the heat generated. furthermore, if we had a machine so perfect as to enable us to apply all the heat thus produced to the raising of a weight, we should be able, by it, to lift the mass of iron to the precise point from which it fell. but the heat cannot lift the weight and still continue heat; this is the peculiarity of the modern view of the matter. the heat is consumed, used up, it is no longer heat; but instead of it we have a certain amount of gravitating force stored up, which is ready to act again, and to regenerate the heat when the weight is let loose. in fact, when the falling weight is stopped by the earth, the motion of its mass is converted into a motion of its molecules; when the weight is lifted by heat, molecular motion is converted into ordinary mechanical motion, but for every portion of either of them brought into existence an equivalent portion of the other must be consumed. what is true for masses is also true for atoms. as the earth and the piece of iron mutually attract each other, and produce heat by their collision, so the carbon of a burning candle and the oxygen of the surrounding air mutually attract each other; they rush together, and on collision the arrested motion becomes heat. in the former case we have the conversion of gravity into heat, in the latter the conversion of chemical affinity into heat; but in each case the process consists in the generation of motion by attraction, and the subsequent change of that motion into motion of another kind. mechanically considered, the attraction of the atoms and its results is precisely the same as the attraction of the earth and weight and _its_ results. [sidenote: heat produced if the earth struck the sun.] but what is true for an atom is also true for a planet or a sun. supposing our earth to be brought to rest in her orbit by a sudden shock, we are able to state the exact amount of heat which would be thereby generated. the consequence of the earth's being thus brought to rest would be that it would fall into the sun, and the amount of heat which would be generated by this second collision is also calculable. helmholtz has calculated that in the former case the heat generated would be equal to that produced by the combustion of fourteen earths of solid coal, and in the latter case the amount would be times greater. [sidenote: shifting of atoms.] whenever a weight is lifted by a steam-engine in opposition to the force of gravity an amount of heat is consumed equivalent to the work done; and whenever the molecules of a body are shifted in opposition to their mutual attractions work is also performed, and an equivalent amount of heat is consumed. indeed the amount of work done in the shifting of the molecules of a body by heat, when expressed in ordinary mechanical work, is perfectly enormous. the lifting of a heavy weight to the height of feet may be as nothing compared with the shifting of the atoms of a body by an amount so small that our finest means of measurement hardly enable us to determine it. different bodies give heat different degrees of trouble, if i may use the term, in shifting their atoms and putting them in new places. iron gives more trouble than lead; and water gives far more trouble than either. the heat expended in this molecular work is lost as heat; it does not show itself as temperature. suppose the heat produced by the combustion of an ounce of candle to be concentrated in a pound of iron, a certain portion of that heat would go to perform the molecular work to which i have referred, and the remainder would be expended in raising the temperature of the body; and if the same amount of heat were communicated to a pound of iron and to a pound of lead, the balance in favour of temperature would be greater in the latter case than in the former, because the heat would have less molecular work to do; the lead would become more heated than the iron. to raise a pound of iron a certain number of degrees in temperature would, in fact, require more than three times the absolute quantity of heat which would be required to raise a pound of lead the same number of degrees. conversely, if we place the pound of iron and the pound of lead, heated to the same temperature, into ice, we shall find that the quantity of ice melted by the iron will be more than three times that melted by the lead. in fact, the greater amount of molecular work invested in the iron now comes into play, the atoms again obey their own powerful forces, and an amount of heat corresponding to the energy of these forces is generated. this molecular work is that which has usually been called _specific heat_, or _capacity for heat_. according to the _materialistic_ view of heat, bodies are figured as sponges, and heat as a kind of fluid absorbed by them, different bodies possessing different powers of absorption. according to the _dynamic_ view, as already explained, heat is regarded as a motion, and capacity for heat indicates the quantity of that motion consumed in internal changes. the greatest of these changes occurs when a body passes from one state of aggregation to another, from the solid to the liquid, or from the liquid to the aëriform state; and the quantity of heat required for such changes is often enormous. to convert a pound of ice at ° fahr. into water _at the same temperature_ would require an amount of heat competent, if applied as mechanical force, to lift the same pound of ice to a height of , feet; it would raise a ton of ice nearly feet, or it would lift between and tons to a height of one foot above the earth's surface. to convert a pound of water at ° into a pound of steam at the same temperature would require an amount of heat which would perform nearly seven times the amount of mechanical work just mentioned. [sidenote: heat consumed in molecular work.] this heat is entirely expended in _interior work_,[a] and does nothing towards augmenting the temperature; the water is at the temperature of the ice which produced it, both are °; and the steam is at the temperature of the water which produced it, both are °. the whole of the heat is consumed in producing the change of aggregation; i say "_consumed_," not hidden or "latent" in either the water or the steam, but absolutely non-existent as heat. the molecular forces, however, which the heat has sacrificed itself to overcome are able to reproduce it; the water in freezing and the steam in condensing give out the exact amount of heat which they consumed when the change of aggregation was in the opposite direction. at a temperature of several degrees below its freezing point ice is much harder than at °. i have more than once cooled a sphere of the substance in a bath of solid carbonic acid and ether to a temperature of ° below the freezing point. during the time of cooling the ice crackled audibly from its contraction, and afterwards it quite resisted the edge of a knife; while at ° it may be cut or crushed with extreme facility. the cold sphere was subjected to pressure; it broke with the detonation of a vitreous body, and was taken from the press a white opaque powder; which, on being subsequently raised to ° and again compressed, was converted into a pellucid slab of ice. [sidenote: ice near the melting point.] but before the temperature of ° is quite attained, ice gives evidence of a loosening of its crystalline texture. indeed the unsoundness of ice at and near its melting point has been long known. sir john leslie, for example, states that ice at ° is _friable_; and every skater knows how rotten ice becomes before it thaws. m. person has further shown that the latent heat of ice, that is to say, the quantity of heat necessary for its liquefaction, is not quite expressed by the quantity consumed in reducing ice at ° to the liquid state. the heat begins to be rendered latent, or in other words the change of aggregation commences, a little before the substance reaches °,--a conclusion which is illustrated and confirmed by the deportment of melting ice under pressure. [sidenote: rotten ice and softened wax.] in reference to the above result professor forbes writes as follows:--"i have now to refer to a fact ... established by a french experimenter, m. person, who appears not to have had even remotely in his mind the theory of glaciers, when he announced the following facts, viz.--'that ice does not pass abruptly from the solid to the fluid state; that it begins to _soften_ at a temperature of ° centigrade below its thawing point; that, consequently, between ° ' and ° of fahr. ice is actually passing through various degrees of plasticity within narrower limits, but in the same manner that wax, for example, softens before it melts.'" the "_softening_" here referred to is the "friability," of sir j. leslie, and what i have called a "loosening of the texture." let us suppose the serpentine covered by a sheet of pitch so smooth and hard as to enable a skater to glide over it; and which is afterwards gradually warmed until it begins to bend under his weight, and finally lets him through. a comparison of this deportment with that of a sheet of ice under the same circumstances enables us to decide whether ice "passes through various degrees of plasticity in the same manner as wax softens before it melts." m. person concerned himself solely with the heat absorbed, and no doubt in both wax and ice that heat is expended in "interior work." in the one case, however, the body is so constituted that the absorbed heat is expended in rendering the substance viscous; and the question simply is, whether the heat absorbed by the ice gives its molecules a freedom of play which would entitle it also to be called viscous; whether, in short, "rotten ice" and softened wax present the same physical qualities? footnotes: [a] i borrow this term from professor clausius's excellent papers on the dynamical theory of heat. ( .) there is one other point in connexion with the viscous theory which claims our attention. the announcement of that theory startled scientific men, and for two or three years after its first publication it formed the subject of keen discussion. this finally subsided, and afterwards professor forbes drew up an elaborate paper, which was presented in three parts to the royal society in and , and subsequently published in the 'philosophical transactions.' in the concluding portion of part iii. professor forbes states and answers the question, "how far a glacier is to be regarded as a plastic mass?" in these words:--"were a glacier composed of a solid crystalline cake of ice, fitted or moulded to the mountain bed which it occupies, like a lake tranquilly frozen, it would seem impossible to admit such a flexibility or yielding of parts as should permit any comparison to a fluid or semifluid body, transmitting pressure horizontally, and whose parts might change their mutual positions so that one part should be pushed out whilst another remained behind. but we know, in point of fact, that a glacier is a body very differently constituted. it is clearly proved by the experiments of agassiz and others that the glacier is not a mass of ice, but of ice and water, the latter percolating freely through the crevices of the former to all depths of the glacier; and it is a matter of ocular demonstration that these crevices, though very minute, communicate freely with one another to great distances; the water with which they are filled communicates force also to great distances, and exercises a tremendous hydrostatic pressure to move onwards in the direction in which gravity urges it, the vast porous mass of seemingly rigid ice in which it is as it were bound up." [sidenote: capillary hypothesis.] "now the water in the crevices," continues professor forbes, "does not constitute the glacier, but only the principal vehicle of the force which acts on it, and the slow irresistible energy with which the icy mass moves onwards from hour to hour with a continuous march, bespeaks of itself the presence of a fluid pressure. but if the ice were not in some degree ductile or plastic, this pressure could never produce any the least forward motion of the mass. the pressure in the capillaries of the glacier can only tend to separate one particle from another, and thus produce tensions and compressions _within the body of the glacier itself_, which yields, owing to its slightly ductile nature, in the direction of least resistance, retaining its continuity, or recovering it by reattachment after its parts have suffered a bruise, according to the violence of the action to which it has been exposed." i will not pretend to say that i fully understand this passage, but, taking it and the former one together, i think it is clear that the water which is supposed to gorge the capillaries of the glacier is assumed to be essential to its motion. indeed, an extreme degree of sensitiveness has been ascribed to the glacier as regards the changes of temperature by which the capillaries are affected. in three succeeding days, for example, professor forbes found the diurnal summer motion of a point upon the mer de glace to increase from . to . inches a day; a result which he says he is "persuaded" to be due to the increasing heat of the weather at the time. if, then, the glacier capillaries can be gorged so quickly as this experiment would indicate, it is fair to assume that they are emptied with corresponding speed when the supply is cut away. [sidenote: temperature at chamouni; winter .] the extraordinary coldness of the weather previous to the christmas of is in the recollection of everybody: this lowness of temperature also extended to the mer de glace and its environs. i had last summer left with auguste balmat and the abbé vueillet thermometers with which observations were made daily during the cold weather referred to. i take the following from balmat's register. minimum date. temperature centigrade. december - ° " - " - - / " - " - " - - / " - - / december - - / ° " - - / " - " + " - " - - / " - the temperature at the montanvert during the above period may be assumed as generally some degrees lower, so that for a considerable period, previous to my winter observations, the portion of the mer de glace near the montanvert had been exposed to a very low temperature. i reached the place after the weather had become warm, but during my stay there the maximum temperature did not exceed - - / ° c. considering therefore the long drain to which the glacier had been subjected previous to the th of december, it is not unreasonable to infer that the capillary supply assumed by professor forbes must by that time have been exhausted. notwithstanding this, the motion of the glacier at the montanvert amounted at the end of december to half its maximum summer motion. [sidenote: balmat's measurements.] the observations of balmat which have been published by professor forbes[a] also militate, as far as they go, against the idea of proportionality between the capillary supply and the motion. if the temperatures recorded apply to the mer de glace during the periods of observation, it would follow that from the th of december to the th of april the temperature of the air was constantly under zero centigrade, and hence, during this time, the gorging of the capillaries, which is due to superficial melting, must have ceased. still, throughout this entire period of depletion the motion of the glacier steadily increased from twenty-four inches to thirty-four and a half inches a day. what has been here said of the montanvert, and of the points lower down where balmat's measurements were made, of course applies with greater force to the higher portions of the glacier, which are withdrawn from the operation of superficial melting for a longer period, and which, nevertheless, if i understand professor forbes aright, have their motion _least affected_ in winter. he records, for example, an observation of mr. bakewell's, by which the glacier des bossons is shown to be stationary at its end, while its upper portions are moving at the rate of a foot a day. this surely indicates that, at those places where the glacier is longest cut off from superficial supply, the motion is least reduced, which would be a most strange result if the motion depended, as affirmed, upon the gorging of the capillaries. [sidenote: bakewell's observations.] the perusal of the conclusion of professor forbes's last volume shows me that a thought similar to that expressed above occurred to mr. bakewell also. speaking of a shallow glacier which moved when the alleged temperature was so enormously below the freezing point that professor forbes regards the observation as open to question (in which i agree with him), mr. bakewell asks, "is it possible that infiltrated water can have any action whatever under such circumstances?" the reply of professor forbes contains these words:--"i have nowhere affirmed the presence of liquid water to be a _sine quâ non_ to the plastic motion of glaciers." this statement, i confess, took me by surprise, which was not diminished by further reading. speaking of the influence of temperature on the motion of the mer de glace, professor forbes says, the glacier "took no real start until the frost had given way, and the tumultuous course of the arveiron showed that its veins were again filled with the circulating medium to which the glacier, like the organic frame, owes its moving energy."[b] and again:--"it is this fragility precisely which, yielding to the hydrostatic pressure of the unfrozen water contained in the countless capillaries of the glacier, produces the crushing action which shoves the ice over its neighbour particles."[c] [sidenote: huxley's observations.] after the perusal of the foregoing paragraphs the reader will probably be less interested in the question as to whether the assumed capillaries exist at all in the glacier. according to mr. huxley's observations, they do not.[d] during the summer of he carefully experimented with coloured liquids on the mer de glace and its tributaries, and in no case was he able to discover these fissures in the sound unweathered ice. i have myself seen the red liquid resting in an auger-hole, where it had lain for an hour without diffusing itself in any sensible degree. this cavity intersected both the white ice and the blue veins of the glacier; and mr. huxley, in my presence, cut away the ice until the walls of the cavity became extremely thin, still no trace of liquid passed through them. experiments were also made upon the higher portions of the mer de glace, and also on the glacier du géant, with the same result. thus the very existence of these capillaries is rendered so questionable, that no theory of glacier-motion which invokes their aid could be considered satisfactory. footnotes: [a] 'occ. pap.,' p. . [b] 'phil. trans.,' , p. , and 'occ. pap.,' p. . [c] 'occ. pap.,' p. . [d] 'phil. mag.,' , vol. xiv., p. . thomson's theory. ( .) in the 'transactions' of the royal society of edinburgh for is published a very interesting paper by prof. james thomson of queen's college, belfast, wherein he deduces, as a consequence of a principle announced by the french philosopher carnot, that water, when subjected to pressure, requires a greater cold to freeze it than when the pressure is removed. he inferred that the lowering of the freezing point for every atmosphere of pressure amounted to . of a degree centigrade. this deduction was afterwards submitted to the test of experiment by his distinguished brother prof. wm. thomson, and proved correct. on the fact thus established is founded mr. james thomson's theory of the "plasticity of ice as manifested in glaciers." [sidenote: statement of theory.] the theory is this:--certain portions of the glacier are supposed first to be subjected to pressure. this pressure liquefies the ice, the water thus produced being squeezed through the glacier in the direction in which it can most easily escape. but cold has been evolved by the act of liquefaction, and, when the water has been relieved from the pressure, it freezes in a new position. the pressure being thus abolished at the place where it was first applied, new portions of the ice are subjected to the force; these in their turn liquefy, the water is dispersed as before, and re-frozen in some other place. to the succession of processes here assumed mr. thomson ascribes the changes of form observed in glaciers. this theory was first communicated to the royal society through the author's brother, prof. william thomson, and is printed in the 'proceedings' of the society for may, . it was afterwards communicated to the british association in dublin, in whose 'reports' it is further published; and again it was communicated to the belfast literary and philosophical society, in whose 'proceedings' it also finds a place. on the th of november, , mr. james thomson communicated to the royal society, through his brother, a second paper, in which he again draws attention to his theory. he offers it in substitution for my views as the best argument that he can adduce against them; he also controverts the explanations of regelation propounded by prof. james d. forbes and prof. faraday, believing that his own theory explains all the facts so well as to leave room for no other. [sidenote: difficulties of theory.] but the passage in this paper which demands my chief attention is the following:--"prof. tyndall (writes mr. thomson), in papers and lectures subsequent to the publication of this theory, appears to adopt it to some extent, and to endeavour to make its principles co-operate with the views he had previously founded on mr. faraday's fact of regelation." i may say that mr. thomson's main thought was familiar to me long before his first communication on the plasticity of ice appeared; but it had little influence upon my convictions. were the above passage correct, i should deserve censure for neglecting to express my obligations far more explicitly than i have hitherto done; but i confess that even now i do not understand the essential point of mr. thomson's theory,--that is to say, its application to the phenomena of glacier motion. indeed, it was the obscurity in my mind in connexion with this point, and the hope that time might enable me to seize more clearly upon his meaning, which prevented me from giving that prominence to the theory of mr. thomson which, for aught i know, it may well deserve. i will here briefly state one or two of my difficulties, and shall feel very grateful to have them removed. [sidenote: improbable deduction.] let us fix our attention on a vertical slice of ice transverse to the glacier, and to which the pressure is applied perpendicular to its surfaces. the ice liquefies, and, supposing the means of escape offered to the compressed water to be equal all round, it is plain that there will be as great a tendency to squeeze the water upwards as downwards; for the mere tendency to flow down by its own gravity becomes, in comparison to the forces here acting on the water, a vanishing quantity. but the fact is, that the ice above the slice is more permeable than that below it; for, as we descend a glacier, the ice becomes more compact. hence the greater part of the dispersed water will be refrozen on that side of the slice which is turned towards the origin of the glacier; and the consequence is, that, according to mr. thomson's principle, the glacier ought to move up hill instead of down. i would invite mr. thomson to imagine himself and me together upon the ice, desirous of examining this question in a philosophic spirit; and that we have taken our places beside a stake driven into the ice, and descending with the glacier. we watch the ice surrounding the stake, and find that every speck of dirt upon it retains its position; there is no liquefaction of the ice that bears the dirt, and consequently it rests on the glacier undisturbed. after twelve hours we find the stake fifteen inches distant from its first position: i would ask mr. thomson how did it get there? or let us fix our attention on those six stakes which m. agassiz drove into the glacier of the aar in , and found erect in at some hundreds of feet from their first position:--how did they get there? how, in fine, does the end of a glacier become its end? has it been liquefied and re-frozen? if not, it must have been _pushed_ down by the very forces which mr. thomson invokes to produce his liquefaction. both the liquefaction, as far as it exists, and the motion, are products of the same cause. in short, this theory, as it presents itself to my mind, is so powerless to account for the simplest fact of glacier-motion, that i feel disposed to continue to doubt my own competence to understand it rather than ascribe to mr. thomson an hypothesis apparently so irrelevant to the facts which it professes to explain. another difficulty is the following:--mr. thomson will have seen that i have recorded certain winter measurements made on the mer de glace, and that these measurements show not only that the ice moves at that period of the year, but that it exhibits those characteristics of motion from which its plasticity has been inferred; the velocity of the central portions of the glacier being in round numbers double the velocity of those near the sides. had there been any necessity for it, this ratio might have been augmented by placing the side-stakes closer to the walls of the glacier. considering the extreme coldness of the weather which preceded these measurements, it is a moderate estimate to set down the temperature of the ice in which my stakes were fixed at ° cent. below zero. [sidenote: requisite pressure calculated.] let us now endeavour to estimate the pressure existing at the portion of the glacier where these measurements were made. the height of the montanvert above the sea-level is, according to prof. forbes, feet; that of the col du géant, which is the summit of the principal tributary of the mer de glace, is , feet: deducting the former from the latter, we find the height of the col du géant above the montanvert to be feet. now, according to mr. thomson's theory and his brother's experiments, the melting point of ice is lowered . ° centigrade for every atmosphere of pressure; and one atmosphere being equivalent to the pressure of about thirty-three feet of water, we shall not be over the truth if we take the height of an equivalent column of glacier-ice, of a compactness the mean of those which it exhibits upon the col du géant and at the montanvert respectively, at forty feet. the compactness of glacier ice is, of course, affected by the air-bubbles contained within it. [sidenote: actual pressure insufficient.] if, then, the pressure of forty feet of ice lower the melting point . ° centigrade, it follows that the pressure of a column feet high will lower it nine-tenths of a degree centigrade. supposing, then, the _unimpeded thrust of the whole glacier, from the col du géant downwards_, to be exerted on the ice at the montanvert; or, in other words, supposing the bed of the glacier to be absolutely smooth and every trace of friction abolished, the utmost the pressure thus obtained could perform would be to lower the melting point of the montanvert ice by the quantity above mentioned. taking into account the actual state of things, the friction of the glacier against its sides and bed, the opposition which the three tributaries encounter in the neck of the valley at trélaporte, the resistance encountered in the sinuous valley through which it passes; and finally, bearing in mind the comparatively short length of the glacier, which has to bear the thrust, and oppose the latter by its own friction merely;--i think it will appear evident that the ice at the montanvert cannot possibly have its melting point lowered by pressure more than a small fraction of a degree. the ice in which my stakes were fixed being - ° centigrade, according to mr. thomson's calculation and his brother's experiments, it would require atmospheres of pressure to liquefy it; in other words, it would require the unimpeded pressure of a column of glacier-ice , feet high. did mont blanc rise to two and a half times its present height above the montanvert, and were the latter place connected with the summit of the mountain by a continuous glacier with its bed absolutely smooth, the pressure at the montanvert would be rather under that necessary to liquefy the ice on which my winter observations were made. [sidenote: measurements apply to surface.] if it be urged that, though the temperature near the surface may be several degrees below the freezing point, the great body of the glacier does not share this temperature, but is, in all probability, near to °, my reply is simple. i did not measure the motion of the ice in the body of the glacier; nobody ever did; my measurements refer to the ice at and near the surface, and it is this ice which showed the plastic deportment which the measurements reveal. such, then, are some of the considerations which prevent me from accepting the theory of mr. thomson, and i trust they will acquit me of all desire, to make his theory co-operate with my views. i am, however, far from considering his deduction the less important because of its failing to account for the phenomena of glacier motion. the pressure-theory of glacier-motion. ( .) [sidenote: possible moulding of ice.] broadly considered, two classes of facts are presented to the glacier-observer; the one suggestive of viscosity, and the other of the reverse. the former are seen where _pressure_ comes into play, the latter where _tension_ is operative. by pressure ice can be moulded to any shape, while the same ice snaps sharply asunder if subjected to tension. were the result worth the labour, ice might be moulded into vases or statuettes, bent into spiral bars, and, i doubt not, by the proper application of pressure, a _rope_ of ice might be formed and coiled into a _knot_. but not one of these experiments, though they might be a thousandfold more striking than any ever made upon a glacier, would in the least demonstrate that ice is really a viscous body. [illustration: fig. . moulds used in experiments with ice.] i have here stated what i believe to be feasible. let me now refer to the experiments which have been actually made in illustration of this point. two pieces of seasoned box-wood had corresponding cavities hollowed in them, so that, when one was placed upon the other, a lenticular space was enclosed. a and b, fig. , represent the pieces of box-wood with the cavities in plan: c represents their section when they are placed upon each other. [sidenote: actual moulding of ice.] a _sphere_ of ice rather more than sufficient to fill the lenticular space was placed between the pieces of wood and subjected to the action of a small hydraulic press. the ice was crushed, but the crushed fragments soon reattached themselves, and, in a few seconds, a lens of compact ice was taken from the mould. [illustration: fig. . moulds used in experiments with ice.] this lens was placed in a cylindrical cavity hollowed out in another piece of box-wood, and represented at c, fig. ; and a flat piece of the wood was placed over the lens as a cover, as at d. on subjecting the whole to pressure, the lens broke, as the sphere had done, but the crushed mass soon re-established its continuity, and in less than half a minute a compact cake of ice was taken from the mould. [illustration: fig. . moulds used in experiments with ice.] in the following experiment the ice was subjected to a still severer test:--a hemispherical cavity was formed in one block of box-wood, and upon a second block a hemispherical protuberance was turned, smaller than the cavity, so that, when the latter was placed in the former, a space of a quarter of an inch existed between the two. fig. represents a section of the two pieces of box-wood; the brass pins _a_, _b_, fixed in the slab g h, and entering suitable apertures in the mould i k, being intended to keep the two surfaces concentric. a lump of ice being placed in the cavity, the protuberance was brought down upon it, and the mould subjected to hydraulic pressure: after a short interval the ice was taken from the mould as a smooth compact _cup_, its crushed particles having reunited, and established their continuity. [sidenote: ice moulded to cups and rings.] [illustration: fig. . moulds used in experiments with ice.] to make these results more applicable to the bending of glacier-ice, the following experiments were made:--a block of box-wood, m, fig. , inches long, wide, and deep, had its upper surface slightly curved, and a groove an inch wide, and about an inch deep, worked into it. a corresponding plate was prepared, having its under surface part of a convex cylinder, of the same curvature as the concave surface of the former piece. when the one slab was placed upon the other, they presented the appearance represented in section at n. a straight prism of ice inches long, an inch wide, and a little more than an inch in depth, was placed in the groove; the upper slab was placed upon it, and the whole was subjected to the hydraulic press. the prism broke, but, the quantity of ice being rather more than sufficient to fill the groove, the pressure soon brought the fragments together and re-established the continuity of the ice. after a few seconds it was taken from the mould a bent bar of ice. this bar was afterwards passed through three other moulds of gradually augmenting curvature, and was taken from the last of them a _semi-ring_ of compact ice. the ice, in changing its form from that of one mould to that of another, was in every instance broken and crushed by the pressure; but suppose that instead of three moulds three thousand had been used; or, better still, suppose the curvature of a single mould to change by extremely slow degrees; the ice would then so gradually change its form that no rude rupture would be apparent. practically the ice would behave as a _plastic_ substance; and indeed this plasticity has been contended for by m. agassiz, in opposition to the idea of viscosity. as already stated, the ice, bruised, and flattened, and bent in the above experiments, was incapable of being sensibly stretched; it was plastic to pressure but not to tension. a quantity of water was always squeezed out of the crushed ice in the above experiments, and the bruised fragments were intermixed with this and with air. minute quantities of both remained in the moulded ice, and thus rendered it in some degree turbid. its character, however, as to continuity may be inferred from the fact that the ice-cup, moulded as described, held water without the slightest visible leakage. [sidenote: softness of ice defined.] [sidenote: pressure and tension.] ice at ° may, as already stated, be crushed with extreme facility, and glacier-ice with still more readiness than lake-ice: it may also be scraped with a knife with even greater facility than some kinds of chalk. in comparison with ice at ° below the freezing point, it might be popularly called _soft_. but its softness is not that of paste, or wax, or treacle, or lava, or honey, or tar. it is the softness of calcareous spar in comparison with that of rock-crystal; and although the latter is incomparably harder than the former, i think it will be conceded that the term viscous would be equally inapplicable to both. my object here is clearly to define terms, and not permit physical error to lurk beneath them. how far this ice, with a softness thus defined, when subjected to the gradual pressures exerted in a glacier, is bruised and broken, and how far the motion of its parts may approach to that of a truly viscous body under pressure, i do not know. the critical point here is that the ice changes its form, and preserves its continuity, during its motion, in virtue of _external_ force. it remains continuous whilst it moves, because its particles are kept in juxtaposition by pressure, and when this external prop is removed, and the ice, subjected to tension, has to depend solely upon the mobility of its own particles to preserve its continuity, the analogy with a viscous body instantly breaks down.[a] footnotes: [a] "imagine," writes professor forbes, "a long narrow trough or canal, stopped at both ends and filled to a considerable depth with treacle, honey, tar, or any such viscid fluid. imagine one end of the trough to give way, the bottom still remaining horizontal: if the friction of the fluid against the bottom be greater than the friction against its own particles, the upper strata will roll over the lower ones, and protrude in a convex slope, which will be propagated backwards towards the other or closed end of the trough. had the matter been quite fluid the whole would have run out, and spread itself on a level: as it is, it assumes precisely the conditions which we suppose to exist in a glacier." this is perfectly definite, and my equally definite opinion is that no glacier ever exhibited the mechanical effects implied by this experiment. regelation. ( .) [sidenote: faraday's first experiment.] i was led to the foregoing results by reflecting on an experiment performed by mr. faraday, at a friday evening meeting of the royal institution, on the th of june, , and described in the 'athenæum' and 'literary gazette' for the same month. mr. faraday then showed that when two pieces of ice, with moistened surfaces, were placed in contact, they became cemented together by the freezing of the film of water between them, while, when the ice was below ° fahr., and therefore _dry_, no effect of the kind could be produced. the freezing was also found to take place under water; and indeed it occurs even when the water in which the ice is plunged is as hot as the hand can bear. a generalisation from this interesting fact led me to conclude that a bruised mass of ice, if closely confined, must re-cement itself when its particles are brought into contact by pressure; in fact, the whole of the experiments above recorded immediately suggested themselves to my mind as natural deductions from the principle established by faraday. a rough preliminary experiment assured me that the deductions would stand testing; and the construction of the box-wood moulds was the consequence. we could doubtless mould many solid substances to any extent by suitable pressure, breaking the attachment of their particles, and re-establishing a certain continuity by the mere force of cohesion. with such substances, to which we should never think of applying the term viscous, we might also imitate the changes of form to which glaciers are subject: but, superadded to the mere cohesion which here comes into play, we have, in the case of ice, the actual regelation of the severed surfaces, and consequently a more perfect solid. in the introduction to this book i have referred to the production of slaty cleavage by pressure; and at a future page i hope to show that the lamination of the ice of glaciers is due to the same cause; but, as justly observed by mr. john ball, there is no tendency to cleave in the _sound_ ice of glaciers; in fact, this tendency is obliterated by the perfect regelation of the severed surfaces. [sidenote: recent experiments of faraday.] mr. faraday has recently placed pieces of ice, in water, under the strain of forces tending to pull them apart. when two such pieces touch at a single point they adhere and move together as a rigid piece; but a little lateral force carefully applied breaks up this union with a crackling noise, and a new adhesion occurs which holds the pieces together in opposition to the force which tends to divide them. mr. james thomson had referred regelation to the cold produced by the liquefaction of the pressed ice; but in the above experiment all pressure is not only taken away, but is replaced by tension. mr. thomson also conceives that, when pieces of ice are simply placed together without intentional pressure, the capillary attraction brings the pressure of the atmosphere into play; but mr. faraday finds that regelation takes place _in vacuo_. a true viscidity on the part of ice mr. faraday never has observed, and he considers that his recent experiments support the view originally propounded by himself, namely, that a particle of water on a surface of ice becomes solid when placed between two surfaces, because of the increased influence due to their joint action. crystallization and internal liquefaction. ( .) [sidenote: how crystals are "nursed."] in the introduction to this book i have briefly referred to the force of crystallization. to permit this force to exercise its full influence, it must have free and unimpeded action; a crystal, for instance, to be properly built, ought to be suspended in the middle of the crystallizing solution, so that the little architects can work all round it; or if placed upon the bottom of a vessel, it ought to be frequently turned, so that all its facets may be successively subjected to the building process. in this way crystals can be _nursed_ to an enormous size. but where other forces mingle with that of crystallization, this harmony of action is destroyed; the figures, for example, that we see upon a glass window, on a frosty morning, are due to an action compounded of the pure crystalline force and the cohesion of the liquid to the window-pane. a more regular effect is obtained when the freezing particles are suspended in still air, and here they build themselves into those wonderful figures which dr. scoresby has observed in the polar regions, mr. glaisher at greenwich, and i myself on the summit of monte rosa and elsewhere. not only however in air, but in water also, figures of great beauty are sometimes formed. harrison's excellent machine for the production of artificial ice is, i suppose, now well known; the freezing being effected by carrying brine, which had been cooled by the evaporation of ether, round a series of flat tin vessels containing water. the latter gradually freezes, and, on watching those vessels while the action was proceeding very slowly, i have seen little six-rayed stars of thin ice forming, and rising to the surface of the liquid. i believe the fact was never before observed, but it would be interesting to follow it up, and to develop experimentally this most interesting case of crystallization. [sidenote: dissection of ice by sunbeam.] the surface of a freezing lake presents to the eye of the observer nothing which could lead him to suppose that a similar molecular architecture is going on there. still the particles are undoubtedly related to each other in this way; they are arranged together on this starry type. and not only is this the case at the surface, but the largest blocks of ice which reach us from norway and the wenham lake are wholly built up in this way. we can reveal the internal constitution of these masses by a reverse process to that which formed them; we can send an agent into the interior of a mass of ice which shall take down the atoms which the crystallizing forces had set up. this agent is a solar beam; with which it first occurred to me to make this simple experiment in the autumn of . i placed a large converging lens in the sunbeams passing through a room, and observed the place where the rays were brought to a focus behind the lens; then shading the lens, i placed a clear cube of ice so that the point of convergence of the rays might fall within it. on removing the screen from the lens, a cone of sunlight went through the cube, and along the course of the cone the ice became studded with lustrous spots, evidently formed by the beam, as if minute reflectors had been suddenly established within the mass, from which the light flashed when it met them. on examining the cube afterwards i found that each of these spots was surrounded by a liquid flower of six petals; such flowers were distributed in hundreds through the ice, being usually clear and detached from each other, but sometimes crowded together into liquid bouquets, through which, however, the six-starred element could be plainly traced. at first the edges of the leaves were unbroken curves, but when the flowers expanded under a long-continued action, the edges became serrated. when the ice was held at a suitable angle to the solar beams, these liquid blossoms, with their central spots shining more intensely than burnished silver, presented an exhibition of beauty not easily described. i have given a sketch of their appearance in fig. . [sidenote: liquid flowers in ice.] [illustration: fig. . liquid flowers in lake ice.] i have here to direct attention to an extremely curious fact. on sending the sunbeam through the transparent ice, i often noticed that the appearance of the lustrous spots was accompanied by an audible clink, as if the ice were ruptured inwardly. but there is no ground for assuming such rupture, and on the closest examination no flaw is exhibited by the ice. what then can be the cause of the noise? i believe the following considerations will answer the question:-- water always holds a quantity of air in solution, the diffusion of which through the liquid, as proved by m. donny, has an immense effect in weakening the cohesion of its particles; recent experiments of my own show that this is also the case in an eminent degree with many volatile liquids. m. donny has proved that, if water be thoroughly purged of its air, a long glass tube filled with this liquid may be inverted, while the tenacity with which the water clings to the tube, and with which its particles cling to each other, is so great that it will remain securely suspended, though no external hindrance be offered to its descent. owing to the same cause, water deprived of its air will not boil at ° fahr., and may be raised to a temperature of nearly ° without boiling; but when this occurs the particles break their cohesion suddenly, and ebullition is converted into explosion. now, when ice is formed, every trace of the air which the water contained is squeezed out of it; the particles in crystallizing reject all extraneous matter, so that in ice we have a substance quite free from the air, which is never absent in the case of water; it therefore follows that if we could preserve the water derived from the melting of ice from contact with the atmosphere, we should have a liquid eminently calculated to show the effects described by m. donny. mr. faraday has proved by actual experiment that this is the case. [sidenote: water deprived of air snaps asunder.] let us apply these facts to the explanation of the clink heard in my experiments. on sending a sunbeam through ice, liquid cavities are suddenly formed at various points within the mass, and these cavities are completely cut off from atmospheric contact. but the water formed by the melting ice is less in volume than the ice which produces it; the water of a cavity is not able to fill it, hence a vacuous space must be formed in the cell. i have no doubt that, for a time, the strong cohesion between the walls of the cell and the drop within it augments the volume of the latter a little, so as to compel it to fill the cell; but as the quantity of liquid becomes greater the shrinking force augments, until finally the particles snap asunder like a broken spring. at the same moment a lustrous spot appears, which is a vacuum, and simultaneously with the appearance of this vacuum the clink was always heard. multitudes of such little explosions must be heard upon a glacier when the strong summer sun shines upon it, the aggregate of which must, i think, contribute to produce the "crepitation" noticed by m. agassiz, and to which i have already referred. [sidenote: figures in ice; vacuous spots.] in plate vi. of the atlas which accompanies the 'système glaciaire' of m. agassiz, i notice drawings of figures like those i have described, which he has observed in glacier-ice, and which were doubtless produced by direct solar radiation. i have often myself observed figures of exquisite beauty formed in the ice on the surface of glacier-pools by the morning sun. in some cases the spaces between the leaves of the liquid flowers melt partially away, and leave the central spot surrounded by a crimped border; sometimes these spaces wholly disappear, and the entire space bounded by the lines drawn from point to point of the leaves becomes liquid, thus forming perfect hexagons. the crimped borders exhibit different degrees of serration, from the full leaves themselves to a gentle undulating line, which latter sometimes merges into a perfect circle. in the ice of glaciers, i have seen the internal liquefaction ramify itself like sprigs of myrtle; in the same ice, and particularly towards the extremities of the glacier, disks innumerable are also formed, consisting of flat round liquid spaces, a bright spot being usually associated with each. these spots have been hitherto mistaken for air-bubbles; but both they and the lustrous disks at the centres of the flowers are vacuous. i proved them to be so by plunging the ice containing them into hot water, and watching what occurred when the walls of the cells were dissolved, and a liquid connexion established between them and the atmosphere. in all cases they totally collapsed, and no trace of air rose to the surface of the warm water. no matter in what direction a solar beam is sent through lake-ice, the liquid flowers are all formed parallel to the surface of freezing. the beam may be sent parallel, perpendicular, or oblique to this surface; the flowers are always formed in the same planes. every line perpendicular to the surface of a frozen lake is in fact an axis of symmetry, round which the molecules so arrange themselves, that, when taken down by the delicate fingers of the sunbeam, the six-leaved liquid flowers are the result. in the ice of glaciers we have no definite planes of freezing. it is first snow, which has been disturbed by winds while falling, and whirled and tossed about by the same agency after it has fallen, being often melted, saturated with its own water, and refrozen: it is cast in shattered fragments down cascades, and reconsolidated by pressure at the bottom. in ice so formed and subjected to such mutations, definite planes of freezing are, of course, out of the question. [sidenote: constitution of glacier-ice.] the flat round disks and vacuous spots to which i have referred come here to our aid, and furnish us with an entirely new means of analysing the internal constitution of a glacier. when we examine a mass of glacier-ice which contains these disks, we find them lying in all imaginable planes; not confusedly, however--closer examination shows us that the disks are arranged in groups, the members of each group being parallel to a common plane, but the parallelism ceases when different groups are compared. the effect is exactly what would be observed, supposing ordinary lake-ice to be broken up, shaken together, and the confused fragments regelated to a compact continuous mass. in such a jumble the original planes of freezing would lie in various directions; but no matter how compact or how transparent ice thus constituted might appear, a solar beam would at once reveal its internal constitution by developing the flowers parallel to the planes of freezing of the respective fragments. a sunbeam sent through glacier-ice always reveals the flowers in the planes of the disks, so that the latter alone at once informs us of its crystalline constitution. [sidenote: vacuous cells mistaken for air-cells.] hitherto, as i have said, these disks have been mistaken for bubbles containing air, and their flattening has been ascribed to the pressure to which they have been subjected. m. agassiz thus refers to them:--"the air-bubbles undergo no less curious modifications. in the neighbourhood of the _névé_, where they are most numerous, those which one sees on the surface are all spherical or ovoid, but by degrees they begin to be flattened, and near the end of the glacier there are some that are so flat _that they might be taken for fissures when seen in profile_. the drawing represents a piece of ice detached from the gallery of infiltration. all the bubbles are greatly flattened. but what is most extraordinary is, that, far from being uniform, _the flattening is different in each fragment_; so that the bubbles, according to the face which they offer, appear either very broad or very thin." this description of glacier-ice is correct: it agrees with the statements of all other observers. but there are two assumptions in the description which must henceforth be given up; first, the bubbles seen like fissures in profile are not air-bubbles at all, but vacuous spots, which the very constitution of ice renders a necessary concomitant of its inward melting; secondly, the assumption that the bubbles have been _flattened_ by pressure must be abandoned; for they are found, and may be developed at will, in lake-ice on which no pressure has been exerted. [sidenote: cells of air and water.] but these remarks dispose only of a certain class of cells contained in glacier-ice. besides the liquid disks and vacuous spots, there are innumerable true bubbles entangled in the mass. these have also been observed and described by m. agassiz; and mr. huxley has also given us an accurate account of them. m. agassiz frequently found air and water associated in the same cell. mr. huxley found no exception to the rule: in each case the bubble of air was enclosed in a cell which was also partially filled with water. he supposes that the water may be that of the originally-melted snow which has been carried down from the _névé_ unfrozen. this hypothesis is worthy of a great deal more consideration than i have had time to give to it, and i state it here in the hope that it will be duly examined. my own experience of these associated air and water cells is derived almost exclusively from lake-ice, in which i have often observed them in considerable numbers. in examining whether the liquid contents had ever been frozen or not, i was guided by the following considerations. if the air be that originally entangled in the solid, it will have the ordinary atmospheric density at least; but if it be due to the melting of the walls of the cell, then the water so formed being only eight-ninths of that of the ice which produced it, _the air of the bubble must be rarefied_. i suppose i have made a hundred different experiments upon these bubbles to determine whether the air was rarefied or not, and in every case found it so. ice containing the bubbles was immersed in warm water, and always, when the rigid envelope surrounding a bubble was melted away, the air suddenly collapsed to a fraction of its original dimensions. i think i may safely affirm that, in some cases, the collapse reduced the bubbles to the thousandth part of their original volume. from these experiments i should undoubtedly infer, that in lake-ice at least, the liquid of the cells is produced by the melting of the ice surrounding the bubbles of air. but i have not subjected the bubbles of glacier-ice to the same searching examination. i have tried whether the insertion of a pin would produce the collapse of the bubbles, but it did not appear to do so. i also made a few experiments at rosenlaui, with warm water, but the result was not satisfactory. that ice melts internally at the surfaces of the bubbles is, i think, rendered certain by my experiments, but whether the water-cells of glacier-ice are entirely due to such melting, subsequent observers will no doubt determine. [sidenote: "liquid liberty."] i have found these composite bubbles at all parts of glaciers; in the ice of the moraines, over which a protective covering had been thrown; in the ice of sand-cones, after the removal of the superincumbent débris; also in ice taken from the roofs of caverns formed in the glacier, and which the direct sunlight could hardly by any possibility attain. that ice should liquefy at the surface of a cavity is, i think, in conformity with all we know concerning the physical nature of heat. regarding it as a motion of the particles, it is easy to see that this motion is less restrained at the surface of a cavity than in the solid itself, where the oscillation of each atom is controlled by the particles which surround it; hence _liquid liberty_, if i may use the term, is first attained at the surface. indeed i have proved by experiment that ice may be melted internally by heat which has been conducted through its external portions without melting them. these facts are the exact complements of those of "regelation;" for here, two moist surfaces of ice being brought into close contact, their liquid liberty is destroyed and the surfaces freeze together. the moulins. ( .) [sidenote: moulin of grindelwald glacier.] [sidenote: depth of the shaft.] the first time i had an opportunity of seeing these remarkable glacier-chimneys was in the summer of , upon the lower glacier of grindelwald. mr. huxley was my companion at the time, and on crossing the so-called eismeer we heard a sound resembling the rumble of distant thunder, which proceeded from a perpendicular shaft formed in the ice, and into which a resounding cataract discharged itself. the tube in fact resembled a vast organ-pipe, whose thunder-notes were awakened by the concussion of the falling water, instead of by the gentle flow of a current of air. beside the shaft our guide hewed steps, on which we stood in succession, and looked into the tremendous hole. near the first shaft was a second and smaller one, the significance of which i did not then understand; it was not more than feet deep, but seemed filled with a liquid of exquisite blue, the colour being really due to the magical shimmer from the walls of the moulin, which was quite empty. as far as we could see, the large shaft was vertical, but on dropping a stone into it a shock was soon heard, and after a succession of bumps, which occupied in all seven seconds, we heard the stone no more. the depth of the moulin could not be thus ascertained, but we soon found a second and still larger one which gave us better data. a stone dropped into this descended without interruption for four seconds, when a concussion was heard; and three seconds afterwards the final shock was audible: there was thus but a single interruption in the descent. supposing all the acquired velocity to have been destroyed by the shock, by adding the space passed over by the stone in four and in three seconds respectively, and making allowance for the time required by the sound to ascend from the bottom, we find the depth of the shaft to be about feet. there is, however, no reason to suppose that this measures the depth of the glacier at the place referred to. these shafts are to be found in almost all great glaciers; they are very numerous in the unteraar glacier, numbers of them however being empty. on the mer de glace they are always to be found in the region of trélaporte, one of the shafts there being, _par excellence_, called the grand moulin. many of them also occur on the glacier de léchaud. as truly observed by m. agassiz, these moulins occur only at those parts of the glacier which are not much rent by fissures, for only at such portions can the little rills produced by superficial melting collect to form streams of any magnitude. the valley of unbroken ice formed in the mer de glace near trélaporte is peculiarly favourable for the collection of such streams; we see the little rills commencing, and enlarging by the contributions of others, the trunk-rill pouring its contents into a little stream which stretches out a hundred similar arms over the surface of the glacier. several such streams join, and finally a considerable brook, which receives the superficial drainage of a large area, cuts its way through the ice. [sidenote: moulins explained.] but although this portion of the glacier is free from those long-continued and permanent strains which, having once rent the ice, tend subsequently to widen the rent and produce yawning crevasses, it is not free from local strains sufficient to produce _cracks_ which penetrate the glacier to a great depth. imagine such a crack intersecting such a glacier-rivulet as we have described. the water rushes down it, and soon scoops a funnel large enough to engulf the entire stream. the moulin is thus formed, and, as the ice moves downward, the sides of the crack are squeezed together and regelated, the seam which marks the line of junction being in most cases distinctly visible. but as the motion continues, other portions of the glacier come into the same state of strain as that which produced the first crack; a second one is formed across the stream, the old shaft is forsaken, and a new one is hollowed out, in which for a season the cataract plays the thunderer. i have in some cases counted the forsaken shafts of six old moulins in advance of an active one. not far from the grand moulin of the mer de glace in there was a second empty shaft, which evidently communicated by a subglacial duct with that into which the torrent was precipitated. out of the old orifice issued a strong cold blast, the air being manifestly impelled through the duct by the falling water of the adjacent moulin. these shafts are always found in the same locality; the portion of the mer de glace to which i have referred is never without them. some of the guides affirm that they are motionless; and a statement of prof. forbes has led to the belief that this was also his opinion.[a] m. agassiz, however, observed the motion of some of these shafts upon the glacier of the aar; and when on the spot in , i was anxious to decide the point by accurate measurements with the theodolite. my friend mr. hirst took charge of the instrument, and on the th of july i fixed a single stake beside the grand moulin, in a straight line between a station at trélaporte and a well-defined mark on the rock at the opposite side of the valley. on the st, the displacement of the stake amounted to inches, and on the st of august it had moved - / inches--the moulin, to all appearance, occupying throughout the same position with regard to the stake. to render this certain, moreover we subsequently drove two additional stakes into the ice, thus enclosing the mouth of the shaft in a triangle. on the th of august the displacements were measured and gave the following results:-- total motion. first (old) stake inches. second (new) do. " third " [sidenote: motion of the moulins.] the old stake had been fixed for days, and its daily motion--_which was also that of the moulin_--averaged inches a day. hence the moulins share the general motion of the glacier, and their apparent permanence is not, as has been alleged, a proof of the semi-fluidity of the glacier, but is due to the breaking of the ice as it passes the place of local strain. [sidenote: depth of "grand moulin" sought.] wishing to obtain some estimate as to the depth of the ice, mr. hirst undertook the sounding of some of the moulins upon the glacier de léchaud, making use of a tin vessel filled with lumps of lead and iron as a weight. the cord gave way and he lost his plummet. to measure the depth of the grand moulin, we obtained fresh cord from chamouni, to which we attached a four-pound weight. into a cavity at the bottom of the weight we stuffed a quantity of butter, to indicate the nature of the bottom against which the weight might strike. the weight was dropped into the shaft, and the cord paid out until its slackening informed us that the weight had come to rest; by shaking the string, however, and walking round the edge of the shaft, the weight was liberated, and sank some distance further. the cord partially slackened a second time, but the strain still remaining was sufficient to render it doubtful whether it was the weight or the action of the falling water which produced it. we accordingly paid out the cord to the end, but, on withdrawing it, found that the greater part of it had been coiled and knotted up by the falling water. we uncoiled, and sounded again. at a depth of feet the weight reached a ledge or protuberance of ice, and by shaking and lifting it, it was caused to descend feet more. a depth of feet was the utmost we could attain to. we sounded the old moulin to a depth of feet; while a third little shaft, beside the large one, measured only feet in depth. we could see the water escape from it through a lateral canal at its bottom, and doubtless the water of the grand moulin found a similar exit. there was no trace of dirt upon the butter, which might have indicated that we had reached the bed of the glacier. footnotes: [a] "every year, and year after year, the watercourses follow the same lines of direction--their streams are precipitated into the heart of the glacier by vertical funnels, called 'moulins,' at the very same points."--forbes's fourth letter upon glaciers: 'occ. pap.,' p. . [illustration: dirt-bands of the mer de glace, as seen from a point near the flÉgÈre. fig. . _to face p. ._] dirt-bands of the mer de glace. ( .) [sidenote: dirt-bands from the flegÈre.] these bands were first noticed by prof. forbes on the th of july, , and were described by him in the following words:--"my eye was caught by a very peculiar appearance of the surface of the ice, which i was certain that i now saw for the first time. it consisted of nearly hyperbolic brownish bands on the glacier, the curves pointing downwards, and the two branches mingling indiscriminately with the moraines, presenting an appearance of a succession of waves some hundred feet apart."[a] from no single point of view hitherto attained can all the dirt-bands of the mer de glace be seen at once. to see those on the terminal portion of the glacier, a station ought to be chosen on the opposite range of the brévent, a few hundred yards beyond the croix de la flegère, where we stand exactly in front of the glacier as it issues into the valley of chamouni. the appearance of the bands upon the portion here seen is represented in fig. . it will be seen that the bands are confined to one side of the glacier, and either do not exist, or are obliterated by the débris, upon the other side. the cause of the accumulation of dirt on the right side of the glacier is, that no less than five moraines are crowded together at this side. in the upper portions of the mer de glace these moraines are distinct from each other; but in descending, the successive engulfments and disgorgings of the blocks and dirt have broken up the moraines; and at the place now before us the materials which composed them are strewn confusedly on the right side of the glacier. the portion of the ice on which the dirt-bands appear is derived from the col du géant. they do not quite extend to the end of the glacier, being obliterated by the dislocation of the ice upon the frozen cascade of des bois. [sidenote: dirt-bands from les charmoz.] let us now proceed across the valley of chamouni to the montanvert; where, climbing the adjacent heights to an elevation of six or eight hundred feet above the hotel, we command a view of the mer de glace, from trélaporte almost to the commencement of the glacier des bois. it was from this position that professor forbes first observed the bands. fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen years later i observed them from the same position. the number of bands which professor forbes counted from this position was eighteen, with which my observations agree. the entire series of bands which i observed, with the exception of one or two, must have been the _successors_ of those observed by professor forbes; and my finding the same number after an interval of so many years proves that the bands must be due to some regularly recurrent cause. fig. represents the bands as seen from the heights adjacent to the montanvert. [illustration: dirt-bands of the mer de glace, as seen from les charmoz. fig. . _to face p. ._] i would here direct attention to an analogy between a glacier and a river, which may be observed from the heights above the montanvert, but to which no reference, as far as i know, has hitherto been made. when a river meets the buttress of a bridge, the water rises against it, and, on sweeping round it, forms an elevated ridge, between which and the pier a depression occurs which varies in depth with the force of the current. this effect is shown by the mer de glace on an exaggerated scale. sweeping round trélaporte, the ice pushes itself beyond the promontory in an elevated ridge, from which it drops by a gradual slope to the adjacent wall of the valley, thus forming a depression typified by that already alluded to. a similar effect is observed at the opposite side of the glacier on turning round the echelets; and both combine to form a kind of skew surface. a careful inspection of the frontispiece will detect this peculiarity in the shape of the glacier. [sidenote: from the cleft-station.] from neither of the stations referred to do we obtain any clue to the origin of the dirt-bands. a stiff but pleasant climb will place us in that singular cleft in the cliffy mountain-ridge which is seen to the right of the frontispiece; and from it we easily attain the high platform of rock immediately to the left of it. we stand here high above the promontory of trélaporte, and occupy the finest station from which the mer de glace and its tributaries can be viewed. from this station we trace the dirt-bands over most of the ice that we have already scanned, and have the further advantage of being able to follow them to their very source. this source is the grand ice-cascade which descends in a succession of precipices from the plateau of the col du géant into the valley which the glacier du géant fills. we see from our present point of view that the bands _are confined to the portion of the glacier which has descended the cascade_. fig. represents the bands as seen from the cleft-station above trélaporte. [illustration: dirt-bands of the mer de glace, as seen from the cleft station, trÉlaporte. fig. . _to face p. ._] we are now however at such a height above the glacier and at such a distance from the base of the cascade, that we can form but an imperfect notion of the true contour of the surface. let us therefore descend, and walk up the glacier du géant towards the cascade. at first our road is level, but we gradually find that at certain intervals we have to ascend slopes which follow each other in succession, each being separated from its neighbour by a space of comparatively level ice. the slopes increase in steepness as we ascend; they are steepest, moreover, on the right-hand side of the glacier, where it is bounded by that from the périades, and at length we are unable to climb them without the aid of an axe. soon afterwards the dislocation of the glacier becomes considerable; we are lost in the clefts and depressions of the ice, and are unable to obtain a view sufficiently commanding to subdue these local appearances and convey to us the general aspect. we have at all events satisfied ourselves as to the existence, on the upper portion of the glacier, of a succession of undulations which sweep transversely across it. the term "wrinkles," applied to them by prof. forbes, is highly suggestive of the appearance which they present. [sidenote: snow-bands on the glacier du gÉant.] from the cleft-station bands of snow may also be seen partially crossing the glacier in correspondence with the undulations upon its surface. if the quantity deposited the winter previous be large, and the heat of summer not too great, these bands extend quite across the glacier. they were first observed by professor forbes in . in his fifth letter is given an illustrative diagram, which, though erroneous as regards the position of the veined structure, is quite correct in limiting the snow-bands to the glacier du géant proper. at the place where the three welded tributaries of the mer de glace squeeze themselves through the strait of trélaporte, the bands undergo a considerable modification in shape. near their origin they sweep across the glacier du géant in gentle curves, with their convexities directed downwards; but at trélaporte these curves, the chords of which a short time previous measured a thousand yards in length, have to squeeze themselves through a space of four hundred and ninety-five yards wide; and as might be expected, they are here suddenly sharpened. the apex of each being thrust forward, they take the form of sharp hyperbolas, and preserve this character throughout the entire length of the mer de glace. i would now conduct the reader to a point from which a good general view of the ice cascade of the géant is attainable. from the old moraine near the lake of the tacul we observe the ice, as it descends the fall, to be broken into a succession of precipices. it would appear as if the glacier had its back periodically broken at the summit of the fall, and formed a series of vast chasms separated from each other by cliffy ridges of corresponding size. these, as they approach the bottom of the fall, become more and more toned down by the action of sun and air, and at some distance below the base of the cascade they are subdued so as to form the transverse undulations already described. these undulations are more and more reduced as the glacier descends; and long before the tacul is attained, every sensible trace of them has disappeared. the terraces of the ice-fall are referred to by professor forbes in his thirteenth letter, where he thus describes them:--"the ice-falls succeed one another at regulated intervals, which appear to correspond to the renewal of each summer's activity in those realms of almost perpetual frost, when a swifter motion occasions a more rapid and wholesale projection of the mass over the steep, thus forming curvilinear terraces like vast stairs, which appear afterwards by consolidation to form the remarkable protuberant wrinkles on the surface of the glacier du géant." [sidenote: forbes's explanation.] with regard to the cause of the distribution of the dirt in bands, professor forbes writes thus in his third letter:--"i at length assured myself that it was entirely owing to the structure of the ice, which retains the dirt diffused by avalanches and the weather on those parts which are most porous, whilst the compacter portion is washed clean by the rain, so that those bands are nothing more than visible traces of the direction of the internal icy structure." professor forbes's theory, at that time, was that the glacier is composed throughout of a series of alternate segments of hard and porous ice, in the latter of which the dirt found a lodgment. i do not know whether he now retains his first opinion; but in his fifteenth letter he speaks of accounting for "the less compact structure of the ice beneath the dirt-band." it appears to me that in the above explanation cause has been mistaken for effect. the ice on which the dirt-bands rest certainly appears to be of a spongier character than the cleaner intermediate ice; but instead of this being the cause of the dirt-bands, the latter, i imagine, by their more copious absorption of the sun's rays and the consequent greater disintegration of the ice, are the cause of the apparent porosity. i have not been able to detect any relative porosity in the "internal icy structure," nor am i able to find in the writings of professor forbes a description of the experiments whereby he satisfied himself that this assumed difference exists. [sidenote: transverse undulations.] [sidenote: influence of direction of glacier.] several days of the summer of were devoted by me to the examination of these bands. i then found the bases and the frontal slopes of the undulations to which i have referred covered with a fine brown mud. these slopes were also, in some cases, covered with snow which the great heat of the weather had not been able entirely to remove. at places where the residue of snow was small its surface was exceedingly dirty--so dirty indeed that it appeared as if peat-mould had been strewn over it; its edges particularly were of a black brown. it was perfectly manifest that this snow formed a receptacle for the fine dirt transported by the innumerable little rills which trickled over the glacier. the snow gradually wasted, but it left its sediment behind, and thus each of the snowy bands observed by professor forbes in , contributed to produce an appearance perfectly antithetical to its own. i have said that the frontal slopes of the undulations were thus covered; and it was on these, and not in the depressions, that the snow principally rested. the reason of this is to be found in the _bearing_ of the glacier du géant, which, looking downwards, is about fourteen degrees east of the meridian.[b] hence the frontal slopes of the undulations have a _northern aspect_, and it is this circumstance which, in my opinion, causes the retention of the snow upon them. irrespective of the snow, the mere tendency of the dirt to accumulate at the bases of the undulations would also produce bands, and indeed does so on many glaciers; but the precision and beauty of the dirt-bands of the mer de glace are, i think, to be mainly referred to the interception by the snow of the fine dark mud before referred to on the northern slopes of its undulations. [sidenote: bands do not cross moraines.] were the statements of some writers upon this subject well founded, or were the dirt-bands as drawn upon the map of professor forbes correctly shown, this explanation could not stand a moment. it has been urged that the dirt-bands cannot thus belong to a single tributary of the mer de glace; for if they did, they would be confined to that tributary upon the trunk-glacier; whereas the fact is that they extend quite across the trunk, and intersect the moraines which divide the glacier du géant from its fellow-tributaries. from my first acquaintance with the mer de glace i had reason to believe that this statement was incorrect; but last year i climbed a third time to the cleft-station for the purpose of once more inspecting the bands from this fine position. i was accompanied by dr. frankland and auguste balmat, and i drew the attention of both particularly to this point. neither of them could discern, nor could i, the slightest trace of a dirt-band crossing any one of the moraines. upon the trunk-stream they were just as much confined to the glacier du géant as ever. if the bands even existed east of the moraines, they could not be seen, the dirt on this part of the glacier being sufficient to mask them. the following interesting fact may perhaps have contributed to the production of the error referred to. opposite to trélaporte the eastern arms of the dirt-bands run so obliquely into the moraine of la noire that the latter appears to be a tangent to them. but this moraine runs along the mer de glace, not far from its centre, and consequently the point of contact of each dirt-band with the moraine moves more quickly than the point of contact of the western arm of the same band with the side of the valley. hence there is a tendency to _straighten_ the bands; and at some distance down the glacier the effect of this is seen in the bands abutting against the moraine of la noire at a larger angle than before. the branches thus abutting have, i believe, been ideally prolonged across the moraines. [illustration: fig. . plan of dirt-bands taken from johnson's 'physical atlas.'] on the map published by prof. forbes in the bands are shown crossing the medial moraines of the mer de glace; and they are also thus drawn on the map in johnson's 'physical atlas' published in . the text is also in accordance with the map:--"opposite to the montanvert, and beyond les echelets, the curved loops (dirt-bands) extend _across the entire glacier_. they are single, and therefore _cut_ the medial moraine, though at a very slight angle."--'travels,' p. . the italics here belong to prof. forbes. in order to help future observers to place this point beyond doubt, i annex, in fig. , a portion of the map of the mer de glace taken from the atlas referred to. if it be compared with fig. the difference between prof. forbes and myself will be clearly seen. the portion of the glacier represented in both diagrams may be viewed from the point near the flegère already referred to. [sidenote: annual "rings."] the explanation which i have given involves three considerations:--the transverse breaking of the glacier on the cascade, and the gradual accumulation of the dirt in the hollows between the ridges; the subsequent toning down of the ridges to gentle protuberances which sweep across the glacier; and the collection of the dirt upon the slopes and at the bases of these protuberances. whether the periods of transverse fracture are annual or not--whether the "wrinkles" correspond to a yearly gush--and whether, consequently, the dirt-bands mark the growth of a glacier as the "annual rings" mark the growth of a tree, i do not know. it is a conjecture well worthy of consideration; but it is only a conjecture, which future observation may either ratify or refute. footnotes: [a] 'travels,' page . [b] in the large map of professor forbes the bearing of the valley is nearly sixty degrees west of the meridian; but this is caused by the true north being drawn on the wrong side of the magnetic north; thus making the declination easterly instead of westerly. in the map in johnson's 'physical atlas' this mistake is corrected. the veined structure of glaciers. ( .) [sidenote: general appearance.] the general appearance of the veined structure may be thus briefly described:--the ice of glaciers, especially midway between their mountain-sources and their inferior extremities, is of a whitish hue, caused by the number of small air-bubbles which it contains, and which, no doubt, constitute the residue of the air originally entrapped in the interstices of the snow from which it has been derived. through the general whitish mass, at some places, innumerable parallel veins of clearer ice are drawn, which usually present a beautiful blue colour, and give the ice a laminated appearance. the cause of the blueness is, that the air-bubbles, distributed so plentifully through the general mass, do not exist in the veins, or only in comparatively small numbers. in different glaciers, and in different parts of the same glacier, these veins display various degrees of perfection. on the clean unweathered walls of some crevasses, and in the channels worn in the ice by glacier-streams, they are most distinctly seen, and are often exquisitely beautiful. they are not to be regarded as a partial phenomenon, or as affecting the constitution of glaciers to a small extent merely. a large portion of the ice of some glaciers is thus affected. the greater part, for example, of the mer de glace consists of this laminated ice; and the whole of the glacier of the rhone, from the base of the ice-cascade downwards, is composed of ice of the same description. [sidenote: grooves on the surface of glaciers.] those who have ascended snowdon, or wandered among the hills of cumberland, or even walked in the environs of leeds, blackburn, and other towns in yorkshire and lancashire, where the stratified sandstone of the district is used for building purposes, may have observed the weathered edges of the slate rocks or of the building-stone to be grooved and furrowed. some laminæ of such rocks withstand the action of the atmosphere better than others, and the more resistant ones stand out in ridges after the softer parts between them have been eaten away. an effect exactly similar is observed where the laminated ice of glaciers is exposed to the action of the sun and air. little grooves and ridges are formed upon its surface, the more resistant plates protruding after the softer material between them has been melted away. one consequence of this furrowing is, that the light dirt scattered by the winds over the surface of the glacier is gradually washed into the little grooves, thus forming fine lines resembling those produced by the passage of a rake over a sanded walk. these lines are a valuable index to some of the phenomena of motion. from a position on the ice of the glacier du géant a little higher up than trélaporte a fine view of these superficial groovings is obtained; but the dirt-lines are not always straight. a slight power of independent motion is enjoyed by the separate parts into which a glacier is divided by its crevasses and dislocations, and hence it is, that, at the place alluded to, the dirt-lines are bent hither and thither, though the ruptures of continuity are too small to affect materially the general direction of the structure. on the glacier of the talèfre i found these groovings useful as indicating the character of the forces to which the ice near the summit of the fall is subjected. the ridges between the chasms are in many cases violently bent and twisted, while the adjacent groovings enable us to see the normal position of the mass. [sidenote: guyot's observations.] the veined structure has been observed by different travellers; but it was probably first referred to by sir david brewster, who noticed the veins of the mer de glace on the th of september, . it was also observed by general sabine,[a] by rendu, by agassiz, and no doubt by many others; but the first clear description of it was given by m. guyot, in a communication presented to the geological society of france in . i quote the following passage from this paper:--"i saw under my feet the surface of the entire glacier covered with regular furrows from one to two inches wide, hollowed out in a half snowy mass, and separated by protruding plates of harder and more transparent ice. it was evident that the mass of the glacier here was composed of two sorts of ice, one that of the furrows, snowy and more easily melted; the other that of the plates, more perfect, crystalline, glassy, and resistant; and that the unequal resistance which the two kinds of ice presented to the atmosphere was the cause of the furrows and ridges. after having followed them for several hundreds of yards, i reached a fissure twenty or thirty feet wide, which, as it cut the plates and furrows at right angles, exposed the interior of the glacier to a depth of thirty or forty feet, and gave a beautiful transverse section of the structure. as far as my vision could reach i saw the mass of the glacier composed of layers of snowy ice, each two of which were separated by one of the plates of which i have spoken, the whole forming a regularly laminated mass, which resembled certain calcareous slates." [sidenote: forbes's researches.] previous observers had mistaken the lamination for stratification; but m. guyot not only clearly saw that they were different, but in the comparison which he makes he touches, i believe, on the true cause of the glacier-structure. he did not hazard an explanation of the phenomenon, and i believe his memoir remained unprinted. in the structure was noticed by professor forbes during his visit to m. agassiz on the lower aar glacier, and described in a communication presented by him to the royal society of edinburgh. he subsequently devoted much time to the subject, and his great merit in connexion with it consists in the significance which he ascribed to the phenomenon when he first observed it, and in the fact of his having proved it to be a constitutional feature of glaciers in general. [sidenote: forbes's theory.] the first explanation given of those veins by professor forbes was, that they were small fissures formed in the ice by its motion; that these were filled with the water of the melted ice in summer, which froze in winter so as to form the blue veins. this is the explanation given in his 'travels,' page ; and in a letter published in the 'edinburgh new philosophical journal,' october, , it is re-affirmed in these words:--"with the abundance of blue bands before us in the direction in which the differential motion must take place (in this case sensibly parallel to the sides of the glacier), it is impossible to doubt that these infiltrated crevices (for such they undoubtedly are) have this origin." this theory was examined by mr. huxley and myself in our joint paper; but it has been since alleged that ours was unnecessary labour, prof. forbes himself having in his thirteenth letter renounced the theory, and substituted another in its place. the latter theory differs, so far as i can understand it, from the former in this particular, that the _freezing of the water_ in the fissures is discarded, their sides being now supposed to be united "by the simple effects of time and cohesion."[b] for a statement of the change which his opinions have undergone, i would refer to the prefatory note which precedes the volume of 'occasional papers' recently published by prof. forbes; but it would have diminished my difficulty had the author given, in connexion with his new volume, a more distinct statement of his present views regarding the veined structure. with many of his observations and remarks i should agree; with many others i cannot say whether i agree or not; and there are others still with which i do not think i should agree: but in hardly any case am i certain of his precise views, excepting, indeed, the cardinal one, wherein he and others agree in ascribing to the structure a different origin from stratification. thus circumstanced, my proper course, i think, will be to state what i believe to be the cause of the structure, and leave it to the reader to decide how far our views harmonize; or to what extent either of them is a true interpretation of nature. [sidenote: usual aspect of blue veins.] most of the earlier observers considered the structure to be due to the stratification of the mountain-snows--a view which has received later development at the hands of mr. john ball; and the practical difficulty of distinguishing the undoubted effects of _stratification_ from the phenomena presented by _structure_, entitles this view to the fullest consideration. the blue veins of glaciers are, however, not always, nor even generally, such as we should expect to result from stratification. the latter would furnish us with distinct planes extending parallel to each other for considerable distances through the glacier; but this, though sometimes the case, is by no means the general character of the structure. we observe blue streaks, from a few inches to several feet in length, upon the walls of the same crevasse, and varying from the fraction of an inch to several inches in thickness. in some cases the streaks are definitely bounded, giving rise to an appearance resembling the section of a lens, and hence called the "lenticular structure" by mr. huxley and myself; but more usually they fade away in pale washy streaks through the general mass of the whitish ice. in fig. i have given a representation of the structure as it is very commonly exhibited on the walls of crevasses. its aspect is not that which we should expect from the consolidation of successive beds of mountain snow. [illustration: fig. . veined structure of the walls of crevasses.] further, at the bases of ice-cascades the structural laminæ are usually _vertical_: below the cascade of the talèfre, of the noire, of the strahleck branch of the lower grindelwald glacier, of the rhone, and other ice-falls, this is the case; and it seems extremely difficult to conceive that a mass horizontally stratified at the summit of the fall, should, in its descent, contrive to turn its strata perfectly on end. again, we often find a very feebly-developed structure at the central portions of a glacier, while the lateral portions are very decidedly laminated. this is the case where the inclination of the glacier is nearly uniform throughout; and where no medial moraines occur to complicate the phenomenon. but if the veins mark the bedding, there seems to be no sufficient reason for their appearance at the lateral portions of the glacier, and their absence from the centre. [sidenote: illustrative experiments.] this leads me to the point at which what i consider to be the true cause of the structure may be referred to. the theoretic researches of mr. hopkins have taught us a good deal regarding the pressures and tensions consequent upon glacier-motion. aided by this knowledge, and also by a mode of experiment first introduced by professor forbes, i will now endeavour to explain the significance of the fact referred to in the last paragraph. if a plastic substance, such as mud, flow down a sloping canal, the lateral portions, being held back by friction, will be outstripped by the central ones. when the flow is so regulated that the velocity of a point at the centre shall not vary throughout the entire length of the canal, a coloured circle stamped upon the centre of the mud stream, near its origin, will move along with the mud, and still retain its circular form; for, inasmuch as the velocity of all points along the centre is the same, there can be no elongation of the circle longitudinally or transversely by either strain or pressure. a similar absence of longitudinal pressure may exist in a glacier, and, where it exists throughout, no central structure can, in my opinion, be developed. but let a circle be stamped upon the mud-stream near its side, then, when the mud flows, this circle will be distorted to an oval, with its major axis oblique to the direction of motion; the cause of this is that the portion of the circle farthest from the side of the canal moves more freely than that adjacent to the side. the mechanical effect of the slower lateral motion is to squeeze the circle in one direction, and draw it out in the perpendicular one. [sidenote: marginal structure.] [illustration: fig. . figure explanatory of the marginal structure.] a glance at fig. will render all that i have said intelligible. the three circles are first stamped on the mud in the same transverse line; but after they have moved downwards they will be in the same straight line no longer. the central one will be the foremost; while the lateral ones have their forms changed from circles to ovals. in a glacier of the shape of this canal exactly similar effects are produced. now the shorter axis _m n_ of each oval is a line of squeezing or pressure; the longer axis is a line of strain or tension; and the associated glacier-phenomena are as follows:--across the line _m n_, or perpendicular to the pressure, we have the _veined structure_ developed, while across the line of tension the glacier usually breaks and forms _marginal crevasses_. mr. hopkins has shown that the lines of greatest pressure and of greatest strain are at right angles to each other, and that in valleys of a uniform width they enclose an angle of forty-five degrees with the side of the glacier. to the structure thus formed i have applied the term _marginal structure_. here, then, we see that there are mechanical agencies at work near the side of such a glacier which are absent from the centre, and we have effects developed--i believe _by the pressure_--in the lateral ice, which are not produced in the central. i have used the term "uniform inclination" in connexion with the marginal structure, and my reason for doing so will now appear. in many glaciers the structure, instead of being confined to the margins, sweeps quite across them. this is the case, for example, on the glacier du géant, the structure of which is prolonged into the mer de glace. in passing the strait at trélaporte, however, the curves are squeezed and their apices bruised, so that the structure is thrown into a state of confusion; and thus upon the mer de glace we encounter difficulty in tracing it fairly from side to side. now the key to this transverse structure i believe to be the following: where the inclination of the glacier suddenly changes from a steep slope to a gentler, as at the bases of the "cascades,"--the ice to a certain depth must be thrown into a state of violent longitudinal compression; and along with this we have the resistance which the gentler slope throws athwart the ice descending from the steep one. at such places a structure is developed transverse to the axis of the glacier, and likewise transverse to the pressure. the quicker flow of the centre causes this structure to bend more and more, and after a time it sweeps in vast curves across the entire glacier. [sidenote: structure of grindelwald glacier.] in illustration of this point i will refer, in the first place, to that tributary of the lower glacier of grindelwald which descends from the strahleck. walking up this tributary we come at length to the base of an ice-fall. let the observer here leave the ice, and betake himself to either side of the flanking mountain. on attaining a point which commands a view both of the fall and of the glacier below it, an inspection of the glacier will, i imagine, solve to his satisfaction the case of structure now under consideration. it is indeed a grand experiment which nature here submits to our inspection. the glacier descending from its _névé_ reaches the summit of the cascade, and is broken transversely as it crosses the brow; it afterwards descends the fall in a succession of cliffy ice-ridges with transverse hollows between them. in these latter the broken ice and débris collect, thus partially choking the fissures formed in the first instance. carrying the eye downwards along the fall, we see, as we approach the base, these sharp ridges toned down; and a little below the base they dwindle into rounded protuberances which sweep in curves quite across the glacier. at the base of the fall the structure begins to appear, feebly at first, but becoming gradually more pronounced, until, at a short distance below the base of the fall, the eye can follow the fine superficial groovings from side to side; while at the same time the ice underneath the surface has become laminated in the most beautiful manner. it is difficult to convey by writing the force of the evidence which the actual observation of this natural experiment places before the mind. the ice at the base of the fall, retarded by the gentler inclination of the valley, has to bear the thrust of the descending mass, the sudden change of inclination producing powerful longitudinal compression. the protuberances are squeezed more closely together, the hollows between them appear to wrinkle up in submission to the pressure--in short, the entire aspect of the glacier suggests the powerful operations of the latter force. at the place where _it_ is exerted the veined structure makes its appearance; and being once formed, it moves downwards, and gives a character to other portions of the glacier which had no share in its formation. [sidenote: base of cascade a "structure-mill."] an illustration almost as good, and equally accessible, is furnished by the glacier of the rhone. i have examined the grand cascade of this glacier from both sides; and an ordinary mountaineer will find little difficulty in reaching a point from which the fall and the terminal portion of the glacier are both distinctly visible. here also he will find the cliffy ridges separated from each other by transverse chasms, becoming more and more subdued at the bottom of the fall, and disappearing entirely lower down the glacier. as in the case of the grindelwald glacier the squeezing of the protuberances and of the spaces between them, is quite apparent, and where this squeezing commences the transverse structure makes its appearance. all the ice that forms the lower portion of this glacier has to pass through the _structure-mill_ at the bottom of the fall, and the consequence is that _it is all laminated_. [sidenote: structure of rhone glacier.] [illustration: fig. . plan of part of ice-fall, and of glacier below it (glacier of the rhone).] [illustration: fig. . section of part of ice-fall, and of glacier below it (glacier of the rhone).] [sidenote: transverse structure.] this case of structural development will be better appreciated on reference to figs. and , the former of which is a plan, and the latter a section, of a part of the ice-fall and of the glacier below it; _a b e f_ is the gorge of the fall, _f b_ being the base. the transverse cliffy ice-ridges are shown crossing the cascade, being subdued at the base to protuberances which gradually disappear as they advance downwards. the structure sweeps over the glacier in the direction of the fine curved lines; and i have also endeavoured to show the direction of the radial crevasses, which, in the centre at least, are at right angles to the veins. to the manifestation of structure here considered i have, for the sake of convenient reference, applied the term _transverse structure_. a third exhibition of the structure is now to be noticed. we sometimes find it in the _middle_ of a glacier and running _parallel_ to its length. on the centre of the ice-fall of the talèfre, for example, we have a structure of this kind which preserves itself parallel to the axis of the fall from top to bottom. but we discover its origin higher up. the structure here has been produced at the extremity of the jardin, where the divided ice meets, and not only brings into partial parallelism the veins previously existing along the sides of the jardin, but develops them still further by the mutual pressure of the portions of newly welded ice. where two tributary glaciers unite, this is perhaps without exception the case. underneath the moraine formed by the junction of the talèfre and léchaud the structure is finely developed, and the veins run in the direction of the moraine. the same is true of the ice under the moraine formed by the junction of the léchaud and géant. these afterwards form the great medial moraines of the mer de glace, and hence the structure of the trunk-stream underneath these moraines is parallel to the direction of the glacier. this is also true of the system of moraines formed by the glaciers of monte rosa. it is true in an especial manner of the lower glacier of the aar, whose medial moraine perhaps attains grander proportions than any other in the alps, and underneath which the structure is finely developed. [sidenote: longitudinal structure.] [illustration: fig. . figure explanatory of longitudinal structure.] the manner in which i have illustrated the production of this structure will be understood from fig. . b b are two wooden boxes, communicating by sluice-fronts with two branch canals, which unite to a common trunk at g. they are intended to represent respectively the trunk and tributaries of the unteraar glacier, the part g being the abschwung, where the lauteraar and finsteraar glaciers unite to form the unteraar. the mud is first permitted to flow beneath the two sluices until it has covered the bottom of the trough for some distance, when it is arrested. the end of a glass tube is then dipped into a mixture of rouge and water, and small circles are stamped upon the mud. the two branches are thickly covered with these circles. the sluices being again raised, the mud in the branches moves downwards, carrying with it the circles stamped upon it; and the manner in which these circles are distorted enables us to infer the strains and pressures to which the mud is subjected during its descent. the figure represents approximately what takes place. the side-circles, as might be expected, are squeezed to oblique ovals, but it is at the junction of the branches that the chief effect of pressure is produced. here, by the mutual thrust of the branches, the circles are not only changed to elongated ellipses, but even squeezed to straight lines. in the case of the glacier this is the region at which the structure receives its main development. to this manifestation of the veins i have applied the term _longitudinal structure_. the three main sources of the blue veins are, i think, here noted; but besides these there are many local causes which influence their production. i have seen them well formed where a glacier is opposed by the sudden bend of a valley, or by a local promontory which presents an obstacle sufficient to bring the requisite pressure into play. in the glaciers of the tyrol and of the oberland i have seen examples of this kind; but the three principal sources of the veins are, i think, those stated above. [sidenote: efforts to solve question.] it was long before i cleared my mind of doubt regarding the origin of the lamination. when on the mer de glace in i spared neither risk nor labour to instruct myself regarding it. i explored the talèfre basin, its cascade, and the ice beneath it. several days were spent amid the ice humps and cliffs at the lower portion of the fall. i suppose i traversed the glacier du géant twenty times, and passed eight or ten days amid the confusion of its great cascade. i visited those places where, it had been affirmed, the veins were produced. i endeavoured to satisfy myself of the mutability which had been ascribed to them; but a close examination reduced the value of each particular case so much that i quitted the glacier that year with nothing more than an _opinion_ that the structure and the stratification were two different things. i, however, drew up a statement of the facts observed, with the view of presenting it to the royal society; but i afterwards felt that in thus acting i should merely swell the literature of the subject without adding anything certain. i therefore withheld the paper, and resolved to devote another year to a search among the chief glaciers of the oberland, of the canton valais, and of savoy, for proofs which should relieve my mind of all doubt upon the subject. [sidenote: expedition for this purpose.] accordingly in i visited the glaciers of rosenlaui, schwartzwald, grindelwald, the aar, the rhone, and the aletsch, to the examination of which latter i devoted more than a week. i afterwards went to zermatt, and, taking up my quarters at the riffelberg, devoted eleven days to the examination of the great system of glaciers of monte rosa. i explored the görner glacier up almost to the cima de jazzi; and believed that in it i could trace the structure from portions of the glacier where it vanished, through various stages of perfection, up to its full development. i believe this still; but yet it is nothing but a belief, which the utmost labour that i could bestow did not raise to a certainty. the western glacier of monte rosa, the schwartze glacier, the trifti glacier, the glacier of the little mont cervin, and of st. théodule, were all examined in connexion with the great trunk-stream of the görner, to which they weld themselves; and though the more i pursued the subject the stronger my conviction became that pressure was the cause of the structure, a crucial case was still wanting. in the phenomena of slaty cleavage, it is often, if not usually, found that the true cleavage _cuts_ the planes of stratification--sometimes at a very high angle. had this not been proved by the observations of sedgwick and others, geologists would not have been able to conclude that cleavage and bedding were two different things, and needed wholly different explanations. my aim, throughout the expedition of , was to discover in the ice a parallel case to the above; to find a clear and undoubted instance where the veins and the stratification were simultaneously exhibited, cutting each other at an unmistakable angle. on the th of august, while engaged with professor ramsay upon the great aletsch glacier, not far from its junction with the middle aletsch, i observed what appeared to me to be the lines of bedding running nearly horizontal along the wall of a great crevasse, while cutting them at a large angle was the true veined structure. i drew my friend's attention to the fact, and to him it appeared perfectly conclusive. it is from a sketch made by him at the place that fig. has been taken. [sidenote: case of structure on the aletsch.] [illustration: fig. . structure and bedding on the great aletsch glacier.] this was the only case of the kind which i observed upon the aletsch glacier; and as i afterwards spent day after day upon the monte rosa glaciers, vainly seeking a similar instance, the thought again haunted me that we might have been mistaken upon the aletsch. in this state of mind i remained until the th of august, a day devoted to the examination of the furgge glacier, which lies at the base of the mont cervin. [sidenote: structure of the furgge glacier.] crossing the valley of the görner glacier, and taking a plunge as i passed into the schwarze see, i reached, in good time, the object of my day's excursion. walking up the glacier, i at length found myself opposed by a frozen cascade composed of four high terraces of ice. the highest of these was chiefly composed of ice-cliffs and _séracs_, many of which had fallen, and now stood like rocking-stones upon the edge of the second terrace. the glacier at the base of the cascade was strewn with broken ice, and some blocks two hundred cubic feet in volume had been cast to a considerable distance down the glacier. upon the faces of the terraces the stratification of the _névé_ was most beautifully shown, running in parallel and horizontal lines along the weathered surface. the snow-field above the cascade is a frozen plain, smooth almost as a sheltered lake. the successive snow-falls deposit themselves with great regularity, and at the summit of the cascade the sections of the _névé_ are for the first time exposed. hence their peculiar beauty and definition. [sidenote: ice terrace examined.] indeed the figure of a lake pouring itself over a rocky barrier which curves convexly upwards, thus causing the water to fall down it, not only longitudinally over the vertex of the curve, but laterally over its two arms, will convey a tolerably correct conception of the shape of the fall. towards the centre the ice was powerfully squeezed laterally, the beds were bent, and their continuity often broken by faults. on inspecting the ice from a distance with my opera glass, i thought i saw structural groovings cutting the strata at almost a right angle. had the question been an undisputed one, i should perhaps have felt so sure of this as not to incur the danger of pushing the inquiry further; but, under the circumstances, danger was a secondary point. resigning, therefore, my glass to my guide, who was to watch the tottering blocks overhead, and give me warning should they move, i advanced to the base of the fall, removed with my hatchet the weathered surface of the ice, and found underneath it the true veined structure, cutting, at nearly a right angle, the planes of stratification. the superficial groovings were not uniformly distributed over the fall, but appeared most decided at those places where the ice appeared to have been most squeezed. i examined three or four of these places, and in each case found the true veins nearly vertical, while the bedding was horizontal. having perfectly satisfied myself of these facts, i made a speedy retreat, for the ice-blocks seemed most threatening, and the sunny hour was that at which they fall most frequently. i next tried the ascent of the glacier up a dislocated declivity to the right. the ice was much riven, but still practicable. my way for a time lay amid fissures which exposed magnificent sections, and every step i took added further demonstration to what i had observed below. the strata were perfectly distinct, the structure equally so, and one crossed the other at an angle of seventy or eighty degrees. mr. sorby has adduced a case of the crumpling of a bed of sandstone through which the cleavage passes: here on the glacier i had parallel cases; the beds were bent and crumpled, but the structure ran through the ice in sharp straight lines. this perhaps was the most pleasant day i ever spent upon the glaciers: my mind was relieved of a long brooding doubt, and the intellectual freedom thus obtained added a subjective grandeur to the noble scene before me. climbing the cliffs near the base of the matterhorn, i walked along the rocky spine which extends to the hörnli, and afterwards descended by the valley of zmutt to zermatt. a year after my return to england a remark contained in professor mousson's interesting little work 'die gletscher der jetzzeit' caused me to refer to the atlas of m. agassiz's 'système glaciaire,' from which i learned that this indefatigable observer had figured a case of stratification and structure cutting each other. if, however, i had seen this figure beforehand, it would not have changed my movements; for the case, as sketched, would not have convinced me. i have now no doubt that m. agassiz has preceded me in this observation, and hence my results are to be taken as mere confirmations of his. [sidenote: lamination and stratification.] fig. represents a crumpled portion of the ice with the lines of lamination passing through the strata. fig. represents a case where a fault had occurred, the veins at both sides of the line of dislocation being inclined towards each other. [illustration: fig. . structure and stratification on the furgge glacier.] [illustration: fig. . structure and stratification on the furgge glacier.] [figs. and are from sketches made on the furgge glacier.--l. c. t.] footnotes: [a] in reply to a question in connexion with this subject, general sabine has favoured me with the following note:-- "my dear tyndall, "it was in the summer of , at the lower grindelwald glacier, that i first saw, and was greatly impressed and interested by examining and endeavouring to understand (in which i did not succeed), the veined structure of the ice. i do not remember when i mentioned it to forbes, but it must be before , because it is noticed in his book, p. . i had never observed it in the glaciers of spitzbergen or baffin's bay, or in the icebergs of the shores and straits of davis or barrow. i feel the more confident of this, because, when i first saw the veined structure in switzerland, my arctic experience was more fresh in my recollection, and i recollected nothing like it. "_veins_ are indeed not uncommon in icebergs, but they quite resemble veins in rocks, and are formed by water filling fissures and freezing into blue ice, finely contrasted with the white granular substance of the berg. "the ice of the grindelwald glacier (where i examined the veined structure) was broken up into very large masses, which by pressure had been upturned, so that a very poor judgment would be formed of the direction of the veins as they existed in the glacier before it had broken up. "sincerely yours, "edward sabine. "_feb. , _." [b] in a letter to myself, published in the th volume of the 'philosophical magazine,' professor forbes writes as follows:--"in , then, i abandoned no part of the theory of the veined structure, on which as you say so much labour had been expended, except the admission, always yielded with reluctance, and got rid of with satisfaction, that the congelation of water in the crevices of the glacier may extend in winter to a great depth." the veined structure and the differential motion. ( .) [sidenote: differential motion greatest at edges.] i have now to examine briefly the explanation of the structure which refers it to differential motion--to a sliding of the particles of ice past each other, which leaves the traces of its existence in the blue veins. the fact is emphatically dwelt upon by those who hold this view, that the structure is best developed nearest to the sides of the glacier, where the differential motion is greatest. why the differential motion is at its maximum near to the sides is easily understood. let a b, c d, fig. , represent the two sides of a glacier, moving in the direction of the arrow, and let _m a b c n_ be a straight line of stakes set out across the glacier to-day. six months hence this line, by the motion of the ice downwards, will be bent to the form _m a' b' c' n_: this curve will not be circular, it will be flattened in the middle; the points _a_ and _c_, at some distance on each side of the centre _b_, move in fact with nearly the same velocity as the centre itself. not so with the sides:--_a'_ and _c'_ have moved considerably in advance of _m_ and _n_, and hence we say that the difference of motion, or the differential motion, of the particles of ice near to the side is a maximum. [illustration: fig. . diagram illustrating differential motion.] during all this time the points _m a' b' c' n_ have been moving straight down the glacier; and hence it will be understood that the sliding of the parts past each other, or, in other words, the differential motion, _is parallel to the sides of the glacier_. this, indeed, is the only differential motion that experiment has ever established; and consequently, when we find the best blue veins referred to the sides of the glacier because the differential motion is there greatest, we naturally infer that the motion meant is parallel to the sides. [sidenote: structure oblique to sides.] but the fact is, that this motion would not at all account for the blue veins, for they are not parallel to the sides, but _oblique_ to them. this difficulty revealed itself after a time to those who first propounded the theory of differential motion, and caused them to modify their explanation of the structure. differential motion is still assumed to be the cause of the veins, but now a motion is meant oblique to the sides, and it is supposed to be obtained in the following way:--through the quicker motion of the point _c'_ the ice between it and _n_ becomes distended; that is to say, the line _c' n_ is in a state of strain--there is a _drag_, it is said, oblique to the sides of the glacier; and it is therefore in this direction that the particles will be caused to slide past each other. dr. whewell, who advocates this view, thus expounds it. he supposes the case of an alpine valley filled with india-rubber which has been warmed until it has partially melted, or become viscous, and then asks, "what will now be the condition of the mass? the sides and bottom will still be held back by the friction; the middle and upper part will slide forwards, but not freely. this want of freedom in the motion (arising from the viscosity) will produce a drag towards the middle of the valley, where the motion is freest; hence the direction in which the filaments slide past each other will be obliquely directed towards the middle. the sliding will separate the mass according to such lines; and though new attachments will take place, the mass may be expected to retain the results of this separation in the traces of parallel fissures."[a] nothing can be clearer than the image of the process thus placed before the mind's eye. one fact of especial importance is to be borne in mind: the sliding of filaments which is thus supposed to take place oblique to the glacier has never been proved; it is wholly assumed. a moraine, it is admitted, will run parallel to the side of a glacier, or a block will move in the same direction from beginning to end, without being sensibly drawn towards the centre, but still it is supposed that the sliding of parts exists, though of a character so small as to render it insensible to measurement. [sidenote: structure crosses lines of sliding.] my chief difficulty as regards this theory may be expressed in a very few words. if the structure be produced by differential motion, why is the large and _real_ differential motion which experiments have established incompetent to produce it? and how can the veins run, as they are admitted to do, _across the lines of maximum sliding_ from their origin throughout the glacier to its end? that a drag towards the centre of the glacier exists is undeniable, but that in consequence of the drag there is a sliding of filaments in this direction, is quite another thing. i have in another place[b] endeavoured to show experimentally that no such sliding takes place, that the drag on any point towards the centre expresses only half the conditions of the problem; being exactly neutralized by the thrust towards the sides. it has been, moreover, shown by mr. hopkins that the lines of maximum strain and of maximum sliding cannot coincide; indeed, if all the particles be urged by the same force, no matter how strong the pull may be, there will be no tendency of one to slide past the other. footnotes: [a] 'philosophical magazine,' ser. iii., vol. xxvi. [b] 'proceedings of the royal institution,' vol. ii. p. . the ripple-theory of the veined structure. ( .) [sidenote: theory stated.] [sidenote: theory examined.] the assumption of oblique sliding, and the production thereby of the marginal structure, have, however, been fortified by considerations of an ingenious and very interesting kind. "how," i have asked, "can the oblique structure persist across the lines of greatest differential motion throughout the length of the glacier?" but here i am met by another question which at first sight might seem equally unanswerable--"how do ripple-marks on the surface of a flowing river, which are nothing else than lines of differential motion of a low order, cross the river from the sides obliquely, while the direction of greatest differential motion is parallel to the sides?" if i understand aright, this is the main argument of professor forbes in favour of his theory of the oblique marginal structure. it is first introduced in a note at page of his 'travels;' he alludes to it in a letter written the following year; in his paper in the 'philosophical transactions' he develops the theory. he there gives drawings of ripple-marks observed in smooth gutters after rain, and which he finds to be inclined to the course of the stream, exactly as the marginal structure is inclined to the side of the glacier. the explanation also embraces the case of an obstacle placed in the centre of a river. "a case," writes professor forbes, "parallel to the last mentioned, where a fixed obstacle cleaves a descending stream, and leaves its trace in a fan-shaped tail, is well known in several glaciers, as in that at ferpêcle, and the glacier de lys on the south side of monte rosa; particularly the last, where the veined structure follows the law just mentioned." in his twelfth letter he also refers to the ripples "as exactly corresponding to the position of the icy bands." in his letter to dr. whewell, published in the 'occasional papers,' page , he writes as follows:--"the same is remarkably shown in the case of a stream of water, for instance a mill-race. although the movement of the water, as shown by floating bodies, is exceedingly nearly (for small velocities sensibly) parallel to the sides, yet the variation of the speed from the side to the centre of the stream occasions a _ripple_, or molecular discontinuity, which inclines forwards from the sides to the centre of the stream at an angle with the axis depending on the ratio of the central and lateral velocity. the veined structure of the ice corresponds to the ripple of the water, a molecular discontinuity whose measure is not comparable to the actual velocity of the ice; and therefore the general movement of the glacier, as indicated by the moraines, remains sensibly parallel to the sides." this theory opens up to us a series of interesting and novel considerations which i think will repay the reader's attention. if the ripples in the water and the veins in the ice be due to the same mechanical cause, when we develop clearly the origin of the former we are led directly to the explanation of the latter. i shall now endeavour to reduce the ripples to their mechanical elements. the messrs. weber have described in their 'wellenlehre' an effect of wave-motion which it is very easy to obtain. when a boat moves through perfectly smooth water, and the rower raises his oar out of the water, drops trickle from its blade, and each drop where it falls produces a system of concentric rings. the circular waves as they widen become depressed, and, if the drops succeed each other with sufficient speed, the rings cross each other at innumerable points. the effect of this is to blot out more or less completely all the circles, and to leave behind two straight divergent ripple-lines, which are tangents to all the external rings; being in fact formed by the intersections of the latter, as a caustic in optics is formed by the intersection of luminous rays. fig. , which is virtually copied from m. weber, will render this description at once intelligible. the boat is supposed to move in the direction of the arrow, and as it does so the rings which it leaves behind widen, and produce the divergence of the two straight resultant lines of ripple. [sidenote: ripples deduced from rings.] [illustration: fig. . diagram explanatory of the formation of ripples.] the more quickly the drops succeed each other, the more frequent will be the intersections of the rings; but as the speed of succession augments we approach the case of _a continuous vein_ of liquid; and if we suppose the continuity to be perfectly established, the ripples will still be produced with a smooth space between them as before. this experiment may indeed be made with a well-wetted oar, which on its first emergence from the water sends into it a continuous liquid vein. the same effect is produced when we substitute for the stream of liquid a solid rod--a common walking-stick for example. a water-fowl swimming in calm water produces two divergent lines of ripples of a similar kind. we have here supposed the water of the lake to be at rest, and the liquid vein or the solid rod to move through it; but precisely the same effect is produced if we suppose the rod at rest and the liquid in motion. let a post, for example, be fixed in the middle of a flowing river; diverging from that post right and left we shall have lines of ripples exactly as if the liquid were at rest and the post moved through it with the velocity of the river. if the same post be placed close to the bank, so that _one_ of its edges only shall act upon the water, diverging from that edge we shall have a _single_ line of ripples which will cross the river obliquely towards its centre. it is manifest that any other obstacle will produce the same effect as our hypothetical post. in the words of professor forbes, "the slightest prominence of any kind in the wall of such a conduit, a bit of wood or a tuft of grass, is sufficient to produce a well-marked ripple-streak from the side towards the centre." [sidenote: measure of divergence of ripples.] the foregoing considerations show that the divergence of the two lines of ripples from the central post, and of the single line in the case of the lateral post, have their mechanical element, if i may use the term, in the experiment of the messrs. weber. in the case of a swimming duck the connexion between the diverging lines of ripples and the propagation of rings round a disturbed point is often very prettily shown. when the creature swims with vigour the little foot with which it strikes the water often comes sufficiently near to the surface to produce an elevation,--sometimes indeed emerging from the water altogether. round the point thus disturbed rings are immediately propagated, and the widening of those rings is _the exact measure of the divergence of the ripple lines_. the rings never cross the lines;--the lines never retreat from the rings. [sidenote: ripples and veins due to different causes.] if we compare the mechanical actions here traced out with those which take place upon a glacier, i think it will be seen that the analogy between the ripples and the veined structure is entirely superficial. how the structure ascribed to the glacier de lys is to be explained i do not know, for i have never seen it; but it seems impossible that it could be produced, as ripples are, by a fixed obstacle which "cleaves a descending stream." no one surely will affirm that glacier-ice so closely resembles a fluid as to be capable of transmitting undulations, as water propagates rings round a disturbed point. the difficulty of such a supposition would be augmented by taking into account the motion of the _individual liquid particles_ which go to form a ripple; for the messrs. weber have shown that these move in closed curves, describing orbits more or less circular. can it be supposed that the particles of ice execute a motion of this kind? if so, their orbital motions may be easily calculated, being deducible from the motion of the glacier compounded with the inclination of the veins. if so important a result could be established, all glacier theories would vanish in comparison with it. [sidenote: position of ripples not that of structure.] there is another interesting point involved in the passage above quoted. professor forbes considers that the ripple is occasioned by the variation of speed from the side to the centre of the stream, and that its _inclination_ depends on the ratio of the central and lateral velocity. if i am correct in the above analysis, this cannot be the case. the inclination of the ripple depends solely on the ratio of the river's translatory motion to the velocity of its wave-motion. were the lateral and central velocities alike, a momentary disturbance at the side would produce a _straight_ ripple-mark, whose inclination would be compounded of the two elements just mentioned. if the motion of the water vary from side to centre, the velocity of wave-propagation remaining constant, the inclination of the ripple will also vary, that is to say, we shall have a _curved_ ripple instead of a straight one. this, of course, is the case which we find in nature, but the curvature of such ripples is totally different from that of the veined structure. owing to the quicker translatory movement, the ripples, as they approach the centre, tend more to parallelism with the direction of the river; and after having passed the centre, and reached the slower water near the opposite side, their inclination to the axis gradually augments. thus the ripples from the two sides form a pair of symmetric curves, which cross each other at the centre, and possess the form _a o b_, _c o d_, shown in fig. . a similar pair of curves would be produced by the reflection of these. knowing the variation of motion from side to centre, any competent mathematician could find the equation of the ripple-curves; but it would be out of place for me to attempt it here. [illustration: fig. . diagram explanatory of the formation of ripples.] the veined structure and pressure. ( .) if a prism of glass be pressed by a sufficient weight, the particles in the line of pressure will be squeezed more closely together, while those at right angles to this line will be forced further apart. the existence of this state of strain may be demonstrated by the action of such squeezed glass upon polarised light. it gives rise to colours, and it is even possible to infer from the tint the precise amount of pressure to which the glass is subjected. m. wertheim indeed has most ably applied these facts to the construction of a dynamometer, or instrument for measuring pressures, exceeding in accuracy any hitherto devised. when the pressure applied becomes too great for the glass to sustain, it flies to pieces. but let us suppose the sides of the prism defended by an extremely strong jacket, in which the prism rests like a closely-fitting plug, and which yields only when a pressure more than sufficient to crush the glass is applied. let the pressure be gradually augmented until this point is attained; afterwards both the glass and its jacket will shorten and widen; the jacket will yield laterally, being pushed out with extreme slowness by the glass within. [sidenote: possible experiment with glass prism.] now i believe that it would be possible to make this experiment in such a manner that the glass should be _flattened_, partly through rupture, and partly through lateral molecular yielding; the prism would change its form, and yet present a firmly coherent mass when removed from its jacket. i have never made the experiment; nobody has, as far as i know; but experiments of this kind are often made by nature. in the museum of the government school of mines, for example, we have a collection of quartz stones placed there by mr. salter, and which have been subjected to enormous pressure in the neighbourhood of a fault. these rigid pebbles have, in some cases, been squeezed against each other so as to produce mutual flattening and indentation. some of them have yielded along planes passing through them, as if one half had slidden over the other; but the reattachment is very strong. some of the larger stones, moreover, which have endured pressure at a particular point, are fissured radially around this point. in short, the whole collection is a most instructive example of the manner and extent to which one of the most rigid substances in nature can yield on the application of a sufficient force. [sidenote: possible experiment with prism of ice.] let a prism of ice at ° be placed in a similar jacket to that which we have supposed to envelop the glass prism. the ice yields to the pressure with incomparably greater ease than the glass; and if the force be slowly applied, the lateral yielding will far more closely resemble that of a truly plastic body. supposing such a piece of ice to be filled with numerous small air-bubbles, the tendency of the pressure would be to flatten these bubbles, and to squeeze them out of the ice. were the substance perfectly homogeneous, this flattening and expulsion would take place uniformly throughout its entire mass; but i believe there is no such homogeneous substance in nature;--the ice will yield at different places, leaving between them spaces which are comparatively unaffected by the pressure. from the former spaces the air-bubbles will be more effectually expelled; and i have no doubt that the result of such pressure acting upon ice so protected would be to produce a laminated structure somewhat similar to that which it produces in those bodies which exhibit slaty cleavage. [sidenote: lamination produced by pressure.] [sidenote: no sliding of filaments.] i also think it certain that, in this lateral displacement of the particles, these must move past each other. this is an idea which i have long entertained, as the following passage taken from the paper published by mr. huxley and myself will prove:--"three principal causes may operate in producing cleavage: first, the reducing of surfaces of weak cohesion to parallel planes; second, the flattening of minute cavities; and third, the weakening of cohesion by tangential action. the third action is exemplified by the state of the rails near a station where a break is habitually applied to a locomotive. in this case, while the weight of the train presses vertically, its motion tends to cause longitudinal sliding of the particles of the rail. tangential action does not, however, necessarily imply a force of the latter kind. when a solid cylinder an inch in height is squeezed to a vertical cake a quarter of an inch in height, it is impossible, physically speaking, that the particles situated in the same vertical line shall move laterally with the same velocity; but if they do not, the cohesion between them will be weakened or ruptured. the pressure, however, will produce new contact; and if this have a cohesive value equal to that of the old contact, no cleavage from this cause can arise. the relative capacities of different substances for cleavage appear to depend in a great measure upon their different properties in this respect. in butter, for example, the new attachments are equal, or nearly so, to the old, and the cleavage is consequently indistinct; in wax this does not appear to be the case, and hence may arise in a great degree the perfection of its cleavage. the further examination of this subject promises interesting results." i would dwell upon this point the more distinctly as the advocates of differential motion may deem it to be in their favour; but it appears to me that the mechanical conceptions implied in the above passage are totally different from theirs. if they think otherwise, then it seems to me that they should change the expressions which refer the differential motion to a "drag" towards the centre, and the structure to the sliding of "filaments" past each other in consequence of this drag. such filamentary sliding may take place in a truly viscous body, but it does not take place in ice. in one particular the ice resembles the butter referred to in the above quotation; for its new attachments appear to be equal to the old, and this, i think, is to be ascribed to its perfect regelation. as justly pointed out by mr. john ball, the veined ice of a glacier, if unweathered, shows no tendency to cleave; for though the expulsion of the air-bubbles has taken place, the reattachment of the particles is so firm as to abolish all evidence of cleavage. when the ice, on the contrary, is weathered, the plates become detached, and i have often been able to split such ice into thin tablets having an area of two or three square feet. in his thirteenth letter professor forbes throws out a new and possibly a pregnant thought in connexion with the veins. if i understand him aright--and i confess it is usually a matter of extreme difficulty with me to make sure of this--he there refers the veins, not to the expulsion of the air from the ice, but to its redistribution. the pressure produces "_lines of tearing_ in which the air is distributed in the form of regular globules." i do not know what might be made of this idea if it were developed, but at present i do not see how the supposed action could produce the blue bands; and i agree with professor wm. thomson in regarding the explanation as improbable.[a] footnotes: [a] for an extremely ingenious view of the origin of the veined structure, i would refer to a paper by professor thomson, in the 'proceedings of the royal society,' april, . the veined structure and the liquefaction of ice by pressure. ( .) i have already noticed an important fact for which we are indebted to mr. james thomson, and have referred to the original communications on the subject. i shall here place the physical circumstances connected with this fact before my reader in the manner which i deem most likely to interest him. [sidenote: influence of pressure on boiling point.] when a liquid is heated, the attraction of the molecules operates against the action of the heat, which tends to tear them asunder. at a certain point the force of heat triumphs, the cohesion is overcome, and the liquid boils. but supposing we assist the attraction of the molecules by applying an external pressure, the difficulty of tearing them asunder will be increased; more heat will be required for this purpose; and hence we say that the _boiling point_ of the liquid has been _elevated_ by the pressure. [sidenote: influence of pressure on fusing point.] if molten sulphur be poured into a bullet-mould, it will be found on cooling to contract, so as to leave a large hollow space in the middle of each sphere. cast musket-bullets are thus always found to possess a small cavity within them produced by the contraction of the lead. conceive the bullet placed within its mould and the latter heated; to produce fusion it is necessary that the sulphur or the lead should _swell_. here, as in the case of the heated water, the tendency to expand is opposed by the attraction of the molecules; with a certain amount of heat however this attraction is overcome and the solid _melts_. but suppose we assist the molecular attraction by a suitable force applied externally, a greater amount of heat than before will be necessary to tear them asunder; and hence we say that the _fusing point_ has been _elevated_ by the pressure. this fact has been experimentally established by messrs. hopkins and fairbairn, who applied to spermaceti and other substances pressures so great as to raise their points of fusion a considerable number of degrees. let us now consider the case of the metal bismuth. if the molten metal be poured into a bullet-mould it will _expand_ on solidifying. i have myself filled a strong cast-iron bottle with the metal, and found its expansion on cooling sufficiently great to split the bottle from neck to bottom. hence, in order to fuse the bismuth the substance must _contract_; and it is manifest that an external pressure which tends to squeeze the molecules more closely together here _assists_ the heat instead of opposing it. hence, to fuse bismuth under great pressure, a less amount of heat will be required than when the pressure is removed; or, in other words, the fusing point of bismuth is _lowered_ by the pressure. now, in passing from the solid to the liquid state, _ice_, like bismuth, contracts, and if the contraction be promoted by external pressure, as shown by the messrs. thomson, a less amount of heat suffices to liquefy it. [sidenote: experiments.] these remarks will enable us to understand a singular effect first obtained by myself at the close of or in january , noticed at the time in the 'proceedings of the royal society,' and afterwards fully described in a paper presented to the society in december of that year. a cylinder of clear ice two inches high and an inch in diameter was placed between two slabs of box-wood, and subjected to a gradual pressure. i watched the ice in a direction perpendicular to its length, and saw cloudy lines drawing themselves across it. as the pressure continued, these lines augmented in numbers, until finally the prism presented the appearance of a crystal of gypsum whose planes of cleavage had been forced out of optical contact. when looked at obliquely it was found that the lines were merely the sections of flat dim surfaces, which lay like laminæ one over the other throughout the length of the prism. fig. represents the prism as it appeared when looked at in a direction perpendicular to its axis; fig. shows the appearance when viewed obliquely.[a] [illustration: fig. , . appearance of a prism of ice partially liquefied by pressure.] at first sight it might appear as if air had intruded itself between the separated surfaces of the ice, and to test this point i placed a cylinder two inches long and an inch wide upright in a copper vessel which was filled with ice-cold water. the ice cylinder rose about half an inch above the surface of the water. placing the copper vessel on a slab of wood, and a second slab on the top of the cylinder of ice, the latter was subjected to the gradual action of a small hydraulic press. when the hazy surfaces were well developed in the portion of the ice above the water, the cylinder was removed and examined: the planes of rupture extended throughout the entire length of the cylinder, just as if it had been squeezed in air. i subsequently placed the ice in a stout vessel of glass, and squeezed it, as in the last experiment: the surfaces of discontinuity were seen forming _under the liquid_ quite as distinctly as in air. to prove that the surfaces were due to compression and not to any tearing asunder of the mass by tension, the following experiment was made:--a cylindrical piece of ice, one of whose ends, however, was not parallel to the other, was placed between the slabs of wood, and subjected to pressure. fig. shows the disposition of the experiment. the effect upon the ice cylinder was that shown in fig. , the surfaces being developed along that side which had suffered the pressure. on examining the surfaces by a pocket lens they resembled the effect produced upon a smooth cold surface by breathing on it. [illustration: fig. , . figures illustrative of compression and liquefaction of ice.] [sidenote: liquid layers produced by pressure.] the surfaces were always dim; and had the spaces been filled with air, or were they simply vacuous, the reflection of light from them would have been so copious as to render them much more brilliant than they were observed to be. to examine them more particularly i placed a concave mirror so as to throw the diffused daylight from a window full upon the cylinder. on applying the pressure dim spots were sometimes seen forming in the very middle of the ice, and these as they expanded laterally appeared to be in a state of intense motion, which followed closely the edge of each surface as it advanced through the solid ice. once or twice i observed the hazy surfaces pioneered through the mass by dim offshoots, apparently liquid, and constituting a kind of decrystallisation. from the closest examination to which i was able to subject them, the surfaces appeared to me to be due to internal liquefaction; indeed, when the melting point of ice, having already a temperature of °, is lowered by pressure, its excess of heat must instantly be applied to produce this effect. [sidenote: application to the veined structure.] i have already given a drawing (p. ) showing the development of the veined structure at the base of the ice-cascade of the rhone; and if we compare that diagram with fig. a striking similarity at once reveals itself. the ice of the glacier must undoubtedly be liquefied to some extent by the tremendous pressure to which it is here subjected. surfaces of discontinuity will in all probability be formed, which facilitate the escape of the imprisoned air. the small quantity of water produced will be partly imbibed by the adjacent porous ice, and will be refrozen when relieved from the pressure. this action, associated with that ascribed to pressure in the last section, appears to me to furnish a complete physical explanation of the laminated structure of glacier-ice. footnotes: [a] this effect projected upon a screen is a most striking and instructive class experiment. white ice-seams in the glacier du gÉant. ( .) [sidenote: general appearance of white ice-seams.] on the th of july, , while engaged upon the glacier du géant, my attention was often attracted by protuberant ridges of what at first appeared to be pure white snow, but which on examination i found to be compact ice filled with innumerable round air-cells; and which, in virtue of its greater power of resistance to wasting, often rose to a height of three or four feet above the general level of the ice. as i stood amongst these ridges, they appeared detached and without order of arrangement, but looked at from a distance they were seen to sweep across the proper glacier du géant in a direction concentric with its dirt-bands and its veined structure. in some cases the seams were admirable indications of the relative displacement of two adjacent portions of the glacier, which were divided from each other by a crevasse. usually the sections of a seam exposed on the opposite sides of a fissure accurately faced each other, and the direction of the seam on both sides was continuous; but at other places they demonstrated the existence of lateral faults, being shifted asunder laterally through spaces varying from a few inches to six or seven feet. on the following day i was again upon the same glacier, and noticed in many cases the white ice-seams exquisitely honeycombed. the case was illustrative of the great difference between the absorptive power of the ice itself and of the objects which lie upon its surface. deep cylindrical cells were produced by spots of black dirt which had been scattered upon the surface of the white ice, and which sank to a depth of several inches into the mass. i examined several sections of the veins, and in general i found that their deeper portions blended gradually with the ice on either side of them. but higher up the glacier i found that the veins penetrated only to a limited depth, and did not therefore form an integrant portion of the glacier. figs. and show the sections of two of the seams which were exposed on the wall of a crevasse at some distance below the great ice-fall of the glacier du géant. [sidenote: sections of seams.] [illustration: fig. , . sections of white ice-seams.] [illustration: fig. . variations in the dip of the veined structure.] it was at the base of the talèfre cascade that the explanation of these curious seams presented itself to me. in one of my earliest visits to this portion of the glacier i was struck by a singular disposition of the blue veins on the vertical wall of a crevasse. fig. will illustrate what i saw. the veins, within a short distance, dipped _backward_ and _forward_, like the junctions of stones used to turn an arch. in some cases i found this variation of the structure so great as to pass in a short distance from the vertical to the horizontal, as shown in fig. . [sidenote: variations in "dip" of structure.] [illustration: fig. . variations in the dip of the veined structure.] further examination taught me that the glacier here is crumpled in a most singular manner; doubtless by the great pressure to which it is exposed. the following illustration will convey a notion of its aspect: let one hand be laid flat upon a table, palm downwards, and let the fingers be bent until the space between the first joint and the ends of the fingers is vertical; one of the crumples to which i refer will then be represented. the ice seems bent like the fingers, and the crumples of the glacier are cut by crevasses, which are accurately typified by the spaces between the fingers. let the second hand now be placed upon the first, as the latter is upon the table, so that the tops of the bent fingers of the second hand shall rest upon the roots of the first: two crumples would thus be formed; a series of such protuberances, with steep fronts, follow each other from the base of the talèfre cascade for some distance downwards. on saturday the st of august i ascended these rounded terraces in succession, and observed among them an extremely remarkable disposition of the structure. fig. is a section of a series of three of the crumples, on which the shading lines represent the direction of the blue veins. at the base of each protuberance i found a seam of white ice wedged firmly into the glacier, and _each of the seams marked a place of dislocation of the veins_. the white seams thinned off gradually, and finally vanished where the violent crumpling of the ice disappeared. in fig. i have sketched the wall of a crevasse, which represents what may be regarded as the incipient crumpling. the undulating line shows the contour of the surface, and the shading lines the veins. it will be observed that the direction of the veins yields in conformity with the undulation of the surface; and an augmentation of the effect would evidently result in the crumples shown in fig. . the appearance of the white seams at those places where a dislocation occurred was, as far as i could observe, invariable; but in a few instances the seams were observed upon the platforms of the terraces, and also upon their slopes. the width of a seam was very irregular, varying from a few inches at some places to three or four feet at others. [sidenote: crumples of the talÈfre.] [illustration: fig. . section of three glacier crumples.] [illustration: fig. . wall of a crevasse, with incipient crumpling.] [sidenote: moulds of white ice-seams.] on the rd of august i was again at the base of the talèfre cascade, and observed a fact the significance of which had previously escaped me. the rills which ran down the ice-slopes collected at the base of each protuberance into a stream, which, at the time of my visit, had hollowed out for itself a deep channel in the ice. at some places the stream widened, at others its banks of ice approached each other, and rapids were produced; in fact, _the channels of such streams appeared to be the exact moulds of the seams of white ice_. instructed thus far, i ascended the glacier du géant on the th of august, and then observed on the wrinkles of this glacier the same leaning backwards and forwards of the blue veins as i had previously observed upon the talèfre. i also noticed on this day that a seam of white ice would sometimes open out into two branches, which, after remaining for some distance separate, would reunite and thus enclose a little glacier-island. at other places lateral branches were thrown off from the principal seam, thus suggesting the form of a glacier-rivulet which had been fed by tributary branches. on the th of august i hunted the seams still farther up the glacier; and found them at one place descending a steep ice-hill, being crossed by other similar bands, which however were far less white and compact. i followed these new bands to their origin, and found it to be a system of crevasses formed at the summit of the hill, some of which were filled with snow. lower down the crevasses closed, and the snow thus jammed between their walls was converted into white ice. these seams, however, never attained the compactness and prominence of the larger ones which had their origin far higher up. i singled out one of the best of the latter, and traced it through all the dislocation and confusion of the ice, until i found it to terminate in a cavity filled with snow. this was near the base of the _séracs_, and the streams here were abundant. comparing the shapes of some of them with that of the ice-bands lower down the glacier, a striking resemblance was observed. fig. is the plan of a deep-cut channel through which a stream flowed on the day to which i now refer. fig. is the plan of a seam of white ice sketched on the same day, low down upon the glacier. instances of this kind might be multiplied; and the result, i think, renders it certain that the white ice-seams referred to are due to the filling up of the channels of glacier-streams by snow during winter, and the subsequent compression of the mass to ice during the descent of the glacier. i have found such seams at the bases of all cascades that i have visited; and in all cases they appear to be due to the same cause. the depth to which they penetrate the glacier must be profound, or the _ablation_ of the ice must be less than what is generally supposed; for the seams formed so high up on the glacier du géant may be traced low down upon the trunk-stream of the mer de glace.[a] [sidenote: streams and seams.] [illustration: fig. . plan of a stream on the glacier du géant.] [illustration: fig. . plan of a seam of white ice on the glacier du géant.] [sidenote: scaling off by pressure.] these observations on the white ice-seams enable us to add an important supplement to what has been stated regarding the origin of the dirt-bands of the mer de glace; the protuberances at the base of the cascade are due not only to the toning down of the ridges produced by the transverse fracture of the glacier at the summit of the fall, but they undergo modifications by the pressure locally exerted at its base. the state of things represented in fig. is plainly due to the partial pushing of one crumple over that next in advance of it. there seems to be a differential motion of the parts of the glacier in the same longitudinal line; showing that upon the general motion of the glacier smaller local motions are superposed. the occurrence of the seams upon the faces of the slopes seems also to prove that the pressure is competent, in some cases, to cause the bases of the protuberances to swell, so that what was once the base of a crumple may subsequently form a portion of its slope. another interesting fact is also observed where the pressure is violent: the crumples _scale off_, bows of ice being thus formed which usually span the crumples over their most violently compressed portions. i have found this scaling off at the bases of all the cascades which i have visited, and it is plainly due to the pressure exerted at such places upon the ice. footnotes: [a] the more permanent seams may possibly be due to the filling of the profound crevasses of the cascade. ( .) [sidenote: compression of glacier du gÉant.] not only at the base of its great cascade, but throughout the greater part of its length, the glacier du géant is in a state of longitudinal compression. the meaning of this term will be readily understood: let two points, for example, be marked upon the axis of the glacier; if these during its descent were drawn wider apart, it would show that the glacier was in a state of longitudinal strain or tension; if they remained at the same distance apart, it would indicate that neither strain nor pressure was exerted; whereas, if the two points approached each other, which could only be by the quicker motion of the hinder one, the existence of longitudinal compression would be thereby demonstrated. taking "le petit balmat" with me, to carry my theodolite, i ascended the glacier du géant until i came near the place where it is joined by the glacier des périades, and whence i observed a patch of fresh green grass upon the otherwise rocky mountain-side. to this point i climbed, and made it the station for my instrument. choosing a well-defined object at the opposite side of the glacier, i set, on the th of august, in the line between this object and the theodolite, three stakes, one in the centre of the glacier, and the other two at opposite sides of the centre and about yards from it. this done, i descended for a quarter of a mile, when i again climbed the flanking rocks, placing my theodolite in a couloir, down which stones are frequently discharged from the end of a secondary glacier which hangs upon the heights above. here, as before, i fixed three stakes, chiselled a mark upon the granite, so as to enable me to find the place, and regained the ice without accident. a day or two previously we had set out a third line at some distance lower down, and i was thus furnished with a succession of points along the glacier, the relative motions of which would decide whether it was _pressed_ or _stretched_ in the direction of its length. on the th of august mr. huxley joined us; and on the following day we all set out for the glacier du géant, to measure the progress of the stakes which i had fixed there. hirst remained upon the glacier to measure the displacements; i shouldered the theodolite; and huxley was my guide to the mountain-side, sounding in advance of me the treacherous-looking snow over which we had to pass. calling the central stake of the highest line no. , that of the middle line no. , and that of the line nearest the tacul no. , the following are the spaces moved over by these three points in twenty-four hours: inches. distances asunder. no. . } yards. no. . } yards. no. . here we have the fact which the aspect of the glacier suggested. the first stake moves five inches a day more than the second, and the second nearly three inches a day more than the third. as surmised, therefore, the glacier is in a state of longitudinal compression, whereby a portion of it yards in length is shortened at the rate of eight inches a day. [sidenote: structure in white ice-seams.] in accordance with this result, the transverse undulations of the glacier du géant, described in the chapter upon dirt-bands, _shorten_ as they descend. a series of three of them measured along the axis of the glacier on the th of august, , gave the following respective lengths:-- links, links, links, the shortest undulation being the farthest from the origin of the undulations. this glacier then constitutes a vast ice-press, and enables us to test the explanation which refers the veined structure of the ice to pressure. the glacier itself is transversely laminated, as already stated; and in many cases a structure of extreme definition and beauty is developed in the compressed snow, which constitutes the seams of white ice. in i discovered a well-developed lenticular structure in some of these seams. in i again examined them. clearing away the superficial portions with my axe, i found, drawn through the body of the seams, long lines of blue ice of exquisite definition; in fact, i had never seen the structure so delicately exhibited. the seams, moreover, were developed in portions of the white ice which were near the _centre_ of the glacier, and where consequently filamentous sliding was entirely out of the question. [sidenote: partial summary.] partial summary. . glaciers are derived from mountain snow, which has been consolidated to ice by pressure. . that pressure is competent to convert snow into ice has been proved by experiment. . the power of yielding to pressure diminishes as the mass becomes more compact; but it does not cease even when the substance has attained the compactness which would entitle it to be called ice. . when a sufficient depth of snow collects upon the earth's surface, the lower portions are squeezed out by the pressure of the superincumbent mass. if it rests upon a slope it will yield principally in the direction of the slope, and move downwards. . in addition to this, the whole mass slides bodily along its inclined bed, and leaves the traces of its sliding on the rocks over which it passes, grinding off their asperities, and marking them with grooves and scratches in the direction of the motion. . in this way the deposit of consolidated and unconsolidated snow which covers the higher portions of lofty mountains moves slowly down into an adjacent valley, through which it descends as a true glacier, partly by sliding and partly by the yielding of the mass itself. . several valleys thus filled may unite in a single valley, the tributary glaciers welding themselves together to form a trunk-glacier. . both the main valley and its tributaries are often sinuous, and the tributaries must change their direction to form the trunk; the width of the valley often varies. the glacier is forced through narrow gorges, widening after it has passed them; the centre of the glacier moves more quickly than the sides, and the surface more quickly than the bottom; the point of swiftest motion follows the same law as that observed in the flow of rivers, shifting from one side of the centre to the other as the flexure of the valley changes. . these various effects may be reproduced by experiments on small masses of ice. the substance may moreover be moulded into vases and statuettes. straight bars of it may be bent into rings, or even coiled into knots. . ice, capable of being thus moulded, is practically incapable of being stretched. the condition essential to success is that the particles of the ice operated on shall be kept in close contact, so that when old attachments have been severed new ones may be established. . the nearer the ice is to its melting point in temperature, the more easily are the above results obtained; when ice is many degrees below its freezing point it is crushed by pressure to a white powder, and is not capable of being moulded as above. . two pieces of ice at ° fahr., with moist surfaces, when placed in contact freeze together to a rigid mass; this is called regelation. . when the attachments of pressed ice are broken, the continuity of the mass is restored by the regelation of the new contiguous surfaces. regelation also enables two tributary glaciers to weld themselves to form a continuous trunk; thus also the crevasses are mended, and the dislocations of the glacier consequent on descending cascades are repaired. this healing of ruptures extends to the smallest particles of the mass, and it enables us to account for the continued compactness of the ice during the descent of the glacier. . the quality of viscosity is practically absent in glacier-ice. where pressure comes into play the phenomena are suggestive of viscosity, but where tension comes into play the analogy with a viscous body breaks down. when subjected to strain the glacier does not yield by stretching, but by breaking; this is the origin of the crevasses. . the crevasses are produced by the mechanical strains to which the glacier is subjected. they are divided into marginal, transverse, and longitudinal crevasses; the first produced by the oblique strain consequent on the quicker motion of the centre; the second by the passage of the glacier over the summit of an incline; the third by pressure from behind and resistance in front, which causes the mass to split at right angles to the pressure [strain?]. . the moulins are formed by deep cracks intersecting glacier rivulets. the water in descending such cracks scoops out for itself a shaft, sometimes many feet wide, and some hundreds of feet deep, into which the cataract plunges with a sound like thunder. the supply of water is periodically cut off from the moulins by fresh cracks, in which new moulins are formed. . the lateral moraines are formed from the débris which loads the glacier along its edges; the medial moraines are formed on a trunk-glacier by the union of the lateral moraines of its tributaries; the terminal moraines are formed from the débris carried by the glacier to its terminus, and there deposited. the number of medial moraines on a trunk glacier is always one less than the number of tributaries. . when ordinary lake-ice is intersected by a strong sunbeam it liquefies so as to form flower-shaped figures within the mass; each flower consists of six petals with a vacuous space at the centre; the flowers are always formed parallel to the planes of freezing, and depend on the crystallization of the substance. . innumerable liquid disks, with vacuous spots, are also formed by the solar beams in glacier-ice. these empty spaces have been hitherto mistaken for air-bubbles, the flat form of the disks being erroneously regarded as the result of pressure. . these disks are indicators of the intimate constitution of glacier-ice, and they teach us that it is composed of an aggregate of parts with surfaces of crystallization in all possible planes. . there are also innumerable small cells in glacier-ice holding air and water; such cells also occur in lake-ice; and here they are due to the melting of the ice in contact with the bubble of air. experiments are needed on glacier-ice in reference to this point. . at a free surface within or without, ice melts with more ease than in the centre of a compact mass. the motion which we call heat is less controlled at a free surface, and it liberates the molecules from the solid condition sooner than when the atoms are surrounded on all sides by other atoms which impede the molecular motion. regelation is the complementary effect to the above; for here the superficial portions of a mass of ice are made virtually central by the contact of a second mass. . the dirt-bands have their origin in the ice-cascades. the glacier, in passing the brow, is transversely fractured; ridges are formed with hollows between them; these transverse hollows are the principal receptacles of the fine débris scattered over the glacier; and after the ridges have been melted away, the dirt remains in successive stripes upon the glacier. . the ice of many glaciers is laminated, and when weathered may be cloven into thin plates. in the sound ice the lamination manifests itself in blue stripes drawn through the general whitish mass of the glacier; these blue veins representing portions of ice from which the air-bubbles have been more completely expelled. this is the veined structure of the ice. it is divided into marginal, transverse, and longitudinal structure; which may be regarded as complementary to marginal, longitudinal, and transverse crevasses. the latter are produced by tension, the former by pressure, which acts in two different ways: firstly, the pressure acts upon the ice as it has acted upon rocks which exhibit the lamination technically called cleavage; secondly, it produces partial liquefaction of the ice. the liquid spaces thus formed help the escape of the air from the glacier; and the water produced, being refrozen when the pressure is relieved, helps to form the blue veins. appendix. comparative view of the cleavage of crystals and slate-rocks. a lecture delivered at the royal institution, on friday evening the th of june, .[a] when the student of physical science has to investigate the character of any natural force, his first care must be to purify it from the mixture of other forces, and thus study its simple action. if, for example, he wishes to know how a mass of water would shape itself, supposing it to be at liberty to follow the bent of its own molecular forces, he must see that these forces have free and undisturbed exercise. we might perhaps refer him to the dew-drop for a solution of the question; but here we have to do, not only with the action of the molecules of the liquid upon each other, but also with the action of gravity upon the mass, which pulls the drop downwards and elongates it. if he would examine the problem in its purity, he must do as plateau has done, withdraw the liquid mass from the action of gravity, and he would then find the shape of the mass to be perfectly spherical. natural processes come to us in a mixed manner, and to the uninstructed mind are a mass of unintelligible confusion. suppose half-a-dozen of the best musical performers to be placed in the same room, each playing his own instrument to perfection: though each individual instrument might be a well-spring of melody, still the mixture of all would produce mere noise. thus it is with the processes of nature. in nature, mechanical and molecular laws mingle, and create apparent confusion. their mixture constitutes what may be called the _noise_ of natural laws, and it is the vocation of the man of science to resolve this noise into its components, and thus to detect the "music" in which the foundations of nature are laid. the necessity of this detachment of one force from all other forces is nowhere more strikingly exhibited than in the phenomena of crystallization. i have here a solution of sulphate of soda. prolonging the mental vision beyond the boundaries of sense, we see the atoms of that liquid, like squadrons under the eye of an experienced general, arranging themselves into battalions, gathering round a central standard, and forming themselves into solid masses, which after a time assume the visible shape of the crystal which i here hold in my hand. i may, like an ignorant meddler wishing to hasten matters, introduce confusion into this order. i do so by plunging this glass rod into the vessel. the consequent action is not the pure expression of the crystalline forces; the atoms rush together with the confusion of an unorganized mob, and not with the steady accuracy of a disciplined host. here, also, in this mass of bismuth we have an example of this confused crystallization; but in the crucible behind me a slower process is going on: here there is an architect at work "who makes no chips, no din," and who is now building the particles into crystals, similar in shape and structure to those beautiful masses which we see upon the table. by permitting alum to crystallize in this slow way, we obtain these perfect octahedrons; by allowing carbonate of lime to crystallize, nature produces these beautiful rhomboids; when silica crystallizes, we have formed these hexagonal prisms capped at the ends by pyramids; by allowing saltpetre to crystallize, we have these prismatic masses; and when carbon crystallizes, we have the diamond. if we wish to obtain a perfect crystal, we must allow the molecular forces free play: if the crystallizing mass be permitted to rest upon a surface it will be flattened, and to prevent this a small crystal must be so suspended as to be surrounded on all sides by the liquid, or, if it rest upon the surface, it must be turned daily so as to present all its faces in succession to the working builder. in this way the scientific man nurses these children of his intellect, watches over them with a care worthy of imitation, keeps all influences away which might possibly invade the strict morality of crystalline laws, and finally sees them developed into forms of symmetry and beauty which richly reward the care bestowed upon them. in building up crystals, these little atomic bricks often arrange themselves into layers which are perfectly parallel to each other, and which can be separated by mechanical means; this is called the cleavage of the crystal. i have here a crystallized mass which has thus far escaped the abrading and disintegrating forces which, sooner or later, determine the fate of sugar-candy. if i am skilful enough, i shall discover that this crystal of sugar cleaves with peculiar facility in one direction. here, again, i have a mass of rock-salt: i lay my knife upon it, and with a blow cleave it in this direction; but i find on further examining this substance that it cleaves in more directions than one. laying my knife at right angles to its former position, the crystal cleaves again; and, finally placing the knife at right angles to the two former positions, the mass cleaves again. thus rock-salt cleaves in three directions, and the resulting solid is this perfect cube, which may be broken up into any number of smaller cubes. here is a mass of iceland spar, which also cleaves in three directions, not at right angles, but obliquely to each other, the resulting solid being a rhomboid. in each of these cases the mass cleaves with equal facility in all three directions. for the sake of completeness, i may say that many substances cleave with unequal facility in different directions, and the heavy spar i hold in my hand presents an example of this kind of cleavage. turn we now to the consideration of some other phenomena to which the term cleavage may be applied. this piece of beech-wood cleaves with facility parallel to the fibre, and if our experiments were fine enough we should discover that the cleavage is most perfect when the edge of the axe is laid across the rings which mark the growth of the tree. the fibres of the wood lie side by side, and a comparatively small force is sufficient to separate them. if you look at this mass of hay severed from a rick, you will see a sort of cleavage developed in it also; the stalks lie in parallel planes, and only a small force is required to separate them laterally. but we cannot regard the cleavage of the tree as the same in character as the cleavage of the hayrick. in the one case it is the atoms arranging themselves according to organic laws which produce a cleavable structure; in the other case the easy separation in a certain direction is due to the mechanical arrangement of the coarse sensible masses of stalks of hay. in like manner i find that this piece of sandstone cleaves parallel to the planes of bedding. this rock was once a powder, more or less coarse, held in mechanical suspension by water. the powder was composed of two distinct parts, fine grains of sand and small plates of mica. imagine a wide strand covered by a tide which holds such powder in suspension:[b] how will it sink? the rounded grains of sand will reach the bottom first, the mica afterwards, and when the tide recedes we have the little plates shining like spangles upon the surface of the sand. each successive tide brings its charge of mixed powder, deposits its duplex layer day after day, and finally masses of immense thickness are thus piled up, which, by preserving the alternations of sand and mica, tell the tale of their formation. i do not wish you to accept this without proof. take the sand and mica, mix them together in water, and allow them to subside, they will arrange themselves in the manner i have indicated; and by repeating the process you can actually build up a sandstone mass which shall be the exact counterpart of that presented by nature, as i have done in this glass jar. now this structure cleaves with readiness along the planes in which the particles of mica are strewn. here is a mass of such a rock sent to me from halifax: here are other masses from the quarries of over darwen in lancashire. with a hammer and chisel you see i can cleave them into flags; indeed these flags are made use of for roofing purposes in the districts from which the specimens have come, and receive the name of "slate-stone." but you will discern, without a word from me, that this cleavage is not a crystalline cleavage any more than that of a hayrick is. it is not an arrangement produced by molecular forces; indeed it would be just as reasonable to suppose that in this jar of sand and mica the particles arranged themselves into layers by the forces of crystallization, instead of by the simple force of gravity, as to imagine that such a cleavage as this could be the product of crystallization. this, so far as i am aware of, has never been imagined, and it has been agreed among geologists not to call such splitting as this cleavage at all, but to restrict the term to a class of phenomena which i shall now proceed to consider. those who have visited the slate quarries of cumberland and north wales will have witnessed the phenomena to which i refer. we have long drawn our supply of roofing-slates from such quarries; schoolboys ciphered on these slates, they were used for tombstones in churchyards, and for billiard-tables in the metropolis; but not until a comparatively late period did men begin to inquire how their wonderful structure was produced. what is the agency which enables us to split honister crag, or the cliffs of snowdon, into laminæ from crown to base? this question is at the present moment one of the greatest difficulties of geologists, and occupies their attention perhaps more than any other. you may wonder at this. looking into the quarry of penrhyn, you may be disposed to explain the question as i heard it explained two years ago. "these planes of cleavage," said a friend who stood beside me on the quarry's edge, "are the planes of stratification which have been lifted by some convulsion into an almost vertical position." but this was a great mistake, and indeed here lies the grand difficulty of the problem. these planes of cleavage stand in most cases at a high angle to the bedding. thanks to sir roderick murchison, who has kindly permitted me the use of specimens from the museum of practical geology (and here i may be permitted to express my acknowledgments to the distinguished staff of that noble establishment, who, instead of considering me an intruder, have welcomed me as a brother), i am able to place the proof of this before you. here is a mass of slate in which the planes of bedding are distinctly marked; here are the planes of cleavage, and you see that one of them makes a large angle with the other. the cleavage of slates is therefore not a question of stratification, and the problem which we have now to consider is, "by what cause has this cleavage been produced?" in an able and elaborate essay on this subject in , professor sedgwick proposed the theory that cleavage is produced by the action of crystalline or polar forces after the mass has been consolidated. "we may affirm," he says, "that no retreat of the parts, no contraction of dimensions in passing to a solid state can explain such phenomena. they appear to me only resolvable on the supposition that crystalline or polar forces acted upon the whole mass simultaneously in one direction and with adequate force." and again, in another place: "crystalline forces have rearranged whole mountain-masses, producing a beautiful crystalline cleavage, passing alike through all the strata."[c] the utterance of such a man struck deep, as was natural, into the minds of geologists, and at the present day there are few who do not entertain this view either in whole or in part.[d] the magnificence of the theory, indeed, has in some cases caused speculation to run riot, and we have books published, aye and largely sold, on the action of polar forces and geologic magnetism, which rather astonish those who know something about the subject. according to the theory referred to, miles and miles of the districts of north wales and cumberland, comprising huge mountain-masses, are neither more nor less than the parts of a gigantic crystal. these masses of slate were originally fine mud; this mud is composed of the broken and abraded particles of older rocks. it contains silica, alumina, iron, potash, soda, and mica, mixed in sensible masses mechanically together. in the course of ages the mass became consolidated, and the theory before us assumes that afterwards a process of crystallization rearranged the particles and developed in the mass a single plane of crystalline cleavage. with reference to this hypothesis, i will only say that it is a bold stretch of analogies; but still it has done good service: it has drawn attention to the question; right or wrong, a theory thus thoughtfully uttered has its value; it is a dynamic power which operates against intellectual stagnation; and, even by provoking opposition, is eventually of service to the cause of truth. it would, however, have been remarkable, if, among the ranks of geologists themselves, men were not found to seek an explanation of the phenomena in question, which involved a less hardy spring on the part of the speculative faculty than the view to which i have just referred. the first step in an inquiry of this kind is to put oneself into contact with nature, to seek facts. this has been done, and the labours of sharpe (the late president of the geological society, who, to the loss of science and the sorrow of all who knew him, has so suddenly been taken away from us), sorby, and others, have furnished us with a body of evidence which reveals to us certain important physical phenomena, associated with the appearance of slaty cleavage, if they have not produced it. the nature of this evidence we will now proceed to consider. fossil shells are found in these slate-rocks. i have here several specimens of such shells, occupying various positions with regard to the cleavage planes. they are squeezed, distorted, and crushed. in some cases a flattening of the convex shell occurs, in others the valves are pressed by a force which acted in the plane of their junction, but in all cases the distortion is such as leads to the inference that the rock which contains these shells has been subjected to enormous pressure in a direction at right angles to the planes of cleavage; the shells are all flattened and spread out upon these planes. i hold in my hand a fossil trilobite of normal proportions. here is a series of fossils of the same creature which have suffered distortion. some have lain across, some along, and some oblique to the cleavage of the slate in which they are found; in all cases the nature of the distortion is such as required for its production a compressing force acting at right angles to the planes of cleavage. as the creatures lay in the mud in the manner indicated, the jaws of a gigantic vice appear to have closed upon them and squeezed them into the shape you see. as further evidence of the exertion of pressure, let me introduce to your notice a case of contortion which has been adduced by mr. sorby. the bedding of the rock shown in this figure[e] was once horizontal; at a we have a deep layer of mud, and at _m n_ a layer of comparatively unyielding gritty material; below that again, at b, we have another layer of the fine mud of which slates are formed. this mass cleaves along the shading lines of the diagram; but look at the shape of the intermediate bed: it is contorted into a serpentine form, and leads irresistibly to the conclusion that the mass has been pressed together at right angles to the planes of cleavage. this action can be experimentally imitated, and i have here a piece of clay in which this is done and the same result produced on a small scale. the amount of compression, indeed, might be roughly estimated by supposing this contorted bed _m n_ to be stretched out, its length measured and compared with the distance _c d_; we find in this way that the yielding of the mass has been considerable. let me now direct your attention to another proof of pressure. you see the varying colours which indicate the bedding on this mass of slate. the dark portion, as i have stated, is gritty, and composed of comparatively coarse particles, which, owing to their size, shape, and gravity, sink first and constitute the bottom of each layer. gradually from bottom to top the coarseness diminishes, and near the upper surface of each layer we have a mass of comparatively fine clean mud. sometimes this fine mud forms distinct layers in a mass of slate-rock, and it is the mud thus consolidated from which are derived the german razor-stones, so much prized for the sharpening of surgical instruments. i have here an example of such a stone. when a bed is thin, the clean white mud is permitted to rest, as in this case, upon a slab of the coarser slate in contact with it: when the bed is thick, it is cut into slices which are cemented to pieces of ordinary slate, and thus rendered stronger. the mud thus deposited sometimes in layers is, as might be expected, often rolled up into nodular masses, carried forward, and deposited by the rivers from which the slate-mud has subsided. here, indeed, are such nodules enclosed in sandstone. everybody who has ciphered upon a school-slate must remember the whitish-green spots which sometimes dotted the surface of the slate; he will remember how his slate-pencil usually slid over such spots as if they were greasy. now these spots are composed of the finer mud, and they could not, on account of their fineness, _bite_ the pencil like the surrounding gritty portions of the slate. here is a beautiful example of the spots: you observe them on the cleavage surface in broad patches; but if this mass has been compressed at right angles to the planes of cleavage, ought we to expect the same marks when we look at the edge of the slab? the nodules will be flattened by such pressure, and we ought to see evidence of this flattening when we turn the slate edgeways. here it is. the section of a nodule is a sharp ellipse with its major axis parallel to the cleavage. there are other examples of the same nature on the table; i have made excursions to the quarries of wales and cumberland, and to many of the slate-yards of london, but the same fact invariably appears, and thus we elevate a common experience of our boyhood into evidence of the highest significance as regards one of the most important problems of geology. in examining the magnetism of these slates, i was led to infer that these spots would contain a less amount of iron than the surrounding dark slate. the analysis was made for me by mr. hambly in the laboratory of dr. percy at the school of mines. the result which is stated in this table justifies the conclusion to which i have referred. _analysis of slate._ purple slate. two analyses. . percentage of iron . . " " . mean . greenish slate. . percentage of iron . . " " . mean . the quantity of iron in the dark slate immediately adjacent to the greenish spot is, according to these analyses, nearly double of the quantity contained in the spot itself. this is about the proportion which the magnetic experiments suggested. let me now remind you that the facts which i have brought before you are typical facts--each is the representative of a class. we have seen shells crushed, the unhappy trilobites squeezed, beds contorted, nodules of greenish marl flattened; and all these sources of independent testimony point to one and the same conclusion, namely, that slate-rocks have been subjected to enormous pressure in a direction at right angles to the planes of cleavage.[f] in reference to mr. sorby's contorted bed, i have said that by supposing it to be stretched out and its length measured, it would give us an idea of the amount of yielding of the mass above and below the bed. such a measurement, however, would not quite give the amount of yielding; and here i would beg your attention to a point, the significance of which has, so far as i am aware of, hitherto escaped attention. i hold in my hand a specimen of slate, with its bedding marked upon it; the lower portions of each bed are composed of a comparatively coarse gritty material, something like what you may suppose this contorted bed to be composed of. well, i find that the cleavage takes a bend in crossing these gritty portions, and that the tendency of these portions is to cleave more at right angles to the bedding. look to this diagram: when the forces commenced to act, this intermediate bed, which though comparatively unyielding is not entirely so, suffered longitudinal pressure; as it bent, the pressure became gradually more lateral, and the direction of its cleavage is exactly such as you would infer from a force of this kind--it is neither quite across the bed, nor yet in the same direction as the cleavage of the slate above and below it, but intermediate between the two. supposing the cleavage to be at right angles to the pressure, this is the direction which it ought to take across these more unyielding strata. thus we have established the concurrence of the phenomena of cleavage and pressure--that they accompany each other; but the question still remains, is this pressure of itself sufficient to account for the cleavage? a single geologist, as far as i am aware, answers boldly in the affirmative. this geologist is sorby, who has attacked the question in the true spirit of a physical investigator. you remember the cleavage of the flags of halifax and over darwen, which is caused by the interposition of plates of mica between the layers. mr. sorby examines the structure of slate-rock, and finds plates of mica to be a constituent. he asks himself, what will be the effect of pressure upon a mass containing such plates confusedly mixed up in it? it will be, he argues--and he argues rightly--to place the plates with their flat surfaces more or less perpendicular to the direction in which the pressure is exerted. he takes scales of the oxide of iron, mixes them with a fine powder, and, on squeezing the mass, finds that the tendency of the scales is to set themselves at right angles to the line of pressure. now the planes in which these plates arrange themselves will, he contends, be those along which the mass cleaves. i could show you, by tests of a totally different character from those applied by mr. sorby, how true his conclusion is, that the effect of pressure on elongated particles or plates will be such as he describes it. nevertheless, while knowing this fact, and admiring the ability with which mr. sorby has treated this question, i cannot accept his explanation of slate-cleavage. i believe that even if these plates of mica were wholly absent, the cleavage of slate-rocks would be much the same as it is at present. i will not dwell here upon minor facts,--i will not urge that the perfection of the cleavage bears no relation to the quantity of mica present; but i will come at once to a case which to my mind completely upsets the notion that such plates are a necessary element in the production of cleavage. here is a mass of pure white wax: there are no mica particles here; there are no scales of iron, or anything analogous mixed up with the mass. here is the self-same substance submitted to pressure. i would invite the attention of the eminent geologists whom i see before me to the structure of this mass. no slate ever exhibited so clean a cleavage; it splits into laminæ of surpassing tenuity, and proves at a single stroke that pressure is sufficient to produce cleavage, and that this cleavage is independent of the intermixed plates of mica assumed in mr. sorby's theory. i have purposely mixed this wax with elongated particles, and am unable to say at the present moment that the cleavage is sensibly affected by their presence,--if anything, i should say they rather impair its fineness and clearness than promote it. the finer the slate the more perfect will be the resemblance of its cleavage to that of the wax. compare the surface of the wax with the surface of this slate from borrodale in cumberland. you have precisely the same features in both: you see flakes clinging to the surfaces of each, which have been partially torn away by the cleavage of the mass: i entertain the conviction that if any close observer compares these two effects, he will be led to the conclusion that they are the product of a common cause.[g] but you will ask, how, according to my view, does pressure produce this remarkable result? this may be stated in a very few words. nature is everywhere imperfect! the eye is not perfectly achromatic, the colours of the rose and tulip are not pure colours, and the freshest air of our hills has a bit of poison in it. in like manner there is no such thing in nature as a body of perfectly homogeneous structure. i break this clay which seems so intimately mixed, and find that the fracture presents to my eyes innumerable surfaces along which it has given way, and it has yielded along these surfaces because in them the cohesion of the mass is less than elsewhere. i break this marble, and even this wax, and observe the same result: look at the mud at the bottom of a dried pond; look to some of the ungravelled walks in kensington gardens on drying after rain,--they are cracked and split, and other circumstances being equal, they crack and split where the cohesion of the mass is least. take then a mass of partially consolidated mud. assuredly such a mass is divided and subdivided by surfaces along which the cohesion is comparatively small. penetrate the mass, and you will see it composed of numberless irregular nodules bounded by surfaces of weak cohesion. figure to your mind's eye such a mass subjected to pressure,--the mass yields and spreads out in the direction of least resistance;[h] the little nodules become converted into laminæ, separated from each other by surfaces of weak cohesion, and the infallible result will be that such a mass will cleave at right angles to the line in which the pressure is exerted. further, a mass of dried mud is full of cavities and fissures. if you break dried pipe-clay you see them in great numbers, and there are multitudes of them so small that you cannot see them. i have here a piece of glass in which a bubble was enclosed; by the compression of the glass the bubble is flattened, and the sides of the bubble approach each other so closely as to exhibit the colours of thin plates. a similar flattening of the cavities must take place in squeezed mud, and this must materially facilitate the cleavage of the mass in the direction already indicated. although the time at my disposal has not permitted me to develop this thought as far as i could wish, yet for the last twelve months the subject has presented itself to me almost daily under one aspect or another. i have never eaten a biscuit during this period in which an intellectual joy has not been superadded to the more sensual pleasure, for i have remarked in all such cases cleavage developed in the mass by the rolling-pin of the pastrycook or confectioner. i have only to break these cakes, and to look at the fracture, to see the laminated structure of the mass; nay, i have the means of pushing the analogy further: i have here some slate which was subjected to a high temperature during the conflagration of mr. scott russell's premises. i invite you to compare this structure with that of a biscuit; air or vapour within the mass has caused it to swell, and the mechanical structure it reveals is precisely that of a biscuit. i have gone a little into the mysteries of baking while conducting my inquiries on this subject, and have received much instruction from a lady-friend in the manufacture of puff-paste. here is some paste baked in this house under my own superintendence. the cleavage of our hills is accidental cleavage, but this is cleavage with intention. the volition of the pastrycook has entered into the formation of the mass, and it has been his aim to preserve a series of surfaces of structural weakness, along which the dough divides into layers. puff-paste must not be handled too much, for then the continuity of the surfaces is broken; it ought to be rolled on a cold slab, to prevent the butter from melting and diffusing itself through the mass, thus rendering it more homogeneous and less liable to split. this is the whole philosophy of puff-paste; it is a grossly exaggerated case of slaty cleavage. as time passed on, cases multiplied, illustrating the influence of pressure in producing lamination. mr. warren de la rue informs me that he once wished to obtain white-lead in a fine granular state, and to accomplish this he first compressed the mass: the mould was conical, and permitted the mass to spread a little laterally under the pressure. the lamination was as perfect as that of slate, and quite defeated him in his effort to obtain a granular powder. mr. brodie, as you are aware, has recently discovered a new kind of graphite: here is the substance in powder, of exquisite fineness. this powder has the peculiarity of clinging together in little confederacies; it cannot be shaken asunder like lycopodium; and when the mass is squeezed, these groups of particles flatten, and a perfect cleavage is produced. mr. brodie himself has been kind enough to furnish me with specimens for this evening's lecture. i will cleave them before you: you see they split up into plates which are perpendicular to the line in which the pressure was exerted. this testimony is all the more valuable, as the facts were obtained without any reference whatever to the question of cleavage. i have here a mass of that singular substance boghead cannel. this was once a mass of mud, more or less resembling this one, which i have obtained from a bog in lancashire. i feel some hesitation in bringing this substance before you, for, as in other cases, so in regard to boghead cannel, science--not science, let me not libel it, but the quibbling, litigious, money-loving portion of human nature speaking through the mask of science--has so contrived to split hairs as to render the qualities of the substance somewhat mythical. i shall therefore content myself with showing you how it cleaves, and with expressing my conviction that pressure had a great share in the production of this cleavage. the principle which i have enunciated is so simple as to be almost trivial; nevertheless, it embraces not only the cases i have mentioned, but, if time permitted, i think i could show you that it takes a much wider range. when iron is taken from the puddling furnace, it is a more or less spongy mass: it is at a welding heat, and at this temperature is submitted to the process of rolling: bright smooth bars such as this are the result of this rolling. but i have said that the mass is more or less spongy or nodular, and, notwithstanding the high heat, these nodules do not perfectly incorporate with their neighbours: what then? you would say that the process of rolling must draw the nodules into fibres--it does so; and here is a mass acted upon by dilute sulphuric acid, which exhibits in a striking manner this fibrous structure. the experiment was made by my friend dr. percy, without any reference to the question of cleavage. here are other cases of fibrous iron. this fibrous structure is the result of mechanical treatment. break a mass of ordinary iron and you have a granular fracture; beat the mass, you elongate these granules, and finally render the mass fibrous. here are pieces of rails along which the wheels of locomotives have slidden; the granules have yielded and become plates; they exfoliate or come off in leaves. all these effects belong, i believe, to the great class of phenomena of which slaty cleavage forms the most prominent example.[i] thus, ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the termination of our task. i commenced by exhibiting to you some of the phenomena of crystallization. i have placed before you the facts which are found to be associated with the cleavage of slate-rocks. these facts, as finely expressed by helmholtz, are so many telescopes to our spiritual vision, by which we can see backward through the night of antiquity, and discern the forces which have been in operation upon the earth's surface "ere the lion roared, or the eagle soared." from evidence of the most independent and trustworthy character, we come to the conclusion that these slaty masses have been subjected to enormous pressure, and by the sure method of experiment we have shown--and this is the only really new point which has been brought before you--how the pressure is sufficient to produce the cleavage. expanding our field of view, we find the self-same law, whose footsteps we trace amid the crags of wales and cumberland, stretching its ubiquitous fingers into the domain of the pastrycook and ironfounder; nay, a wheel cannot roll over the half-dried mud of our streets without revealing to us more or less of the features of this law. i would say, in conclusion, that the spirit in which this problem has been attacked by geologists indicates the dawning of a new day for their science. the great intellects who have laboured at geology, and who have raised it to its present pitch of grandeur, were compelled to deal with the subject in mass; they had no time to look after details. but the desire for more exact knowledge is increasing; facts are flowing in, which, while they leave untouched the intrinsic wonders of geology, are gradually supplanting by solid truths the uncertain speculations which beset the subject in its infancy. geologists now aim to imitate, as far as possible, the conditions of nature, and to produce her results; they are approaching more and more to the domain of physics; and i trust the day will soon come when we shall interlace our friendly arms across the common boundary of our sciences, and pursue our respective tasks in a spirit of mutual helpfulness, encouragement, and good-will. footnotes: [a] referred to in the introduction. [b] i merely use this as an illustration; the deposition may have really been due to sediment carried down by rivers. but the action must have been periodic, and the powder duplex. [c] 'transactions of the geological society,' ser. ii. vol. iii. p. . [d] in a letter to sir charles lyell, dated from the cape of good hope, february , , sir john herschel writes as follows:--"if rocks have been so heated as to allow of a commencement of crystallization, that is to say, if they have been heated to a point at which the particles can begin to move amongst themselves, or at least on their own axes, some general law must then determine the position in which these particles will rest on cooling. probably that position will have some relation to the direction in which the heat escapes. now when all or a majority of particles of the same nature have a general tendency to one position, that must of course determine a cleavage plane." [e] omitted here. [f] while to my mind the evidence in proof of pressure seems perfectly irresistible, i by no means assert that the manner in which i stated it is incapable of modification. all that i deem important is the fact that pressure has been exerted; and provided this remain firm, the fate of any minor portion of the evidence by which it is here established is of comparatively little moment. [g] i have usually softened the wax by warming it, kneaded it with the fingers, and pressed it between thick plates of glass previously wetted. at the ordinary summer-temperature the wax is soft, and tears rather than cleaves; on this account i cool my compressed specimens in a mixture of pounded ice and salt, and when thus cooled they split beautifully. [h] it is scarcely necessary to say that if the mass were squeezed equally in _all_ directions no laminated structure could be produced; it must have room to yield in a lateral direction. [i] an eminent authority informs me that he believes these surfaces of weak cohesion to be due to the interposition of films of graphite, and not to any tendency of the iron itself to become fibrous: this of course does not in any way militate against the theory which i have ventured to propose. all that the theory requires is surfaces of weak cohesion, however produced, and a change of shape of such surfaces consequent on pressure or rolling. index. Æggischhorn, , . agassiz on glacier motion, , . air-bubbles, , . aletsch glacier, . -- --, bedding and structure observed on, , . aletschhorn, cloud iridescences on, , . allalein glacier, . alpine climbers, suggestions to, . alps, winter temperature of, . altmann's theory of glacier motion, . ancient glaciers, action of, , . arveiron, arch of, , . atmosphere, permeability of, to radiant heat, , - . atmospheric refraction, . avalanche at saas, . --, sound of, explained, , . bakewell, mr., on motion of glacier des bossons, . balmat, auguste, , . bedding, lines of, . bennen, johann joseph, , . bergschrund, , . "blower," glacier, . blue colour of ice, . -- -- -- snow, , , , . -- -- -- water, , , - . blueness of sky, , , - . blue veins, , . boiling-point, influence of pressure on, . -- -- at different altitudes, , , , , , , . bois, glacier des, , , . brévent, ascent of, . brocken, spirit of the, , . bubbles, in ice, , , , . -- in snow, , . capillaries of glacier, - . cave of ice, . cavities in ice, , , . cells in ice, , see bubbles. chamouni, . --, difficulties at, , . -- in winter, , . charmoz, view from, , , . charpentier's theory of glacier motion, . chemical action, rays producing, . chromatic effects, . cleavage, . -- and stratification distinct, , , . -- caused by pressure, , . --, contortions of, , . -- of crystals and slate rocks, lecture on, . -- of glaciers, , , - . -- -- ice, , . -- -- slate, &c., , . "cleft station," the, , . clouds, formation and dissipation of, , , , . --, iridescent, , , , , . -- on mont blanc, . -- on monte rosa, . --, winter, at montanvert, . colour answers to pitch, . colours of sky, . --, subjective, . comet, discovery of, . compass affected by rocks, . crepitation of glaciers, , . crevasses, (_marginal_, ; _transverse_, ; _longitudinal_, ), . --, first opening of, , . crumples in ice, , , . crystallization of ice, . crystals, cleavage of, , . -- of snow, , , . deafness, artificial, . differential motion, . -- --, dr. whewell on, . diffraction, explanation of, . dirt-bands, , , , , , . -- --, maps of, , , . -- --, forbes on, . -- --, source of, , . disks in ice, planes of, , , . dollfuss, m., hut of, , . dôme du goûter, , . donny, m., on cohesion of liquids, . echoes, theory of, . eismeer, the, , . expedition of , oberland and tyrol, - . -- -- , montanvert and mer de glace, - . -- -- , oberland, valais, and monte rosa district, - . -- -- , winter, chamouni, and mer de glace, - . faraday, prof., on regelation, . faulberg, cave of, . fée, glacier of, . fend, . finsteraarhorn, , . --, summit of, . flowers, liquid, in ice, , - , . forbes, prof., comparison of glacier to river, , . -- --, on glacier motion, , , . -- --, on magnetism of rocks, . -- --, on veined structure, . -- --, viscous theory, , , , . freezing, planes of, , , . frost-bites, . frozen flowers, , . furgge glacier, structure crossing strata on, , - . gases, passage of heat through, . géant, col du, , . géant, glacier du, - , , - . --, measurements on, - . --, motion of, , . --, white ice seams of, , . gebatsch alp, . --, glacier of, , . geneva, lake of, , - . glaciers, ancient, action of, , . -- "blower," . --, capillaries of, - . --, crepitation of, , . -- d'écoulement, . -- de léchaud, see léchaud. -- des bois, , , . -- du géant, see géant. -- du talèfre, see talèfre. --, groovings on, , , . --, measurement of, . -- motion, , - , . -- --, earlier theories of, - . -- --, pressure theory of, . --, origin of, - . -- réservoirs, . --, ridges on, , . --, structure of, , , see veined structure. -- tables, , . --, veins of, , , . --, wrinkles on, . goethe's theory of colours, . görner glacier, , . görner grat, , . görnerhorn glacier, , . grand plateau, . grands mulets, , . graun, . grimsel, the, , . grindelwald, lower glacier of, , , , . groovings on glaciers, , , . grüner's theory of glacier motion, . guides of chamouni, rules of, , , . -- lost in crevasse, . guyot, m., on veined structure, . hailstones, conical, . --, spherical, . handeck, waterfall of, . hasli, valley of, , . heat and light, , , . -- -- work, . --, luminous, - . --, mechanical equivalent of, . --, obscure, . --, passage through gases, - . --, radiant, . -- --, permeability of atmosphere to, , - . --, radiated, . --, specific, . heisse platte, the, . hirst, mr., measurements on mer de glace, , , , , , , . hochjoch, . höchste spitze of monte rosa, . hopkins, mr., on crevasses, , . hôtel des neufchâtelois, , , . hugi on glacier motion, . huxley, mr., on glacier capillaries, . -- --, on water-cells, , . hydrogen, effect on rays, . ice, blue colour of, . -- cascades, , , . -- cave, . -- cells, , see bubbles. -- cones, . --, cracking of, , . --, crystallization of, . --, effects of pressure on, , . --, experiments on, . --, friability of, . --, liquefaction of, , . --, liquid flowers in, - , . --, thomson's theory of plasticity of, . --, softening of, . --, structure of, , . --, temperature of, , . --, white, seams of, , , . illumination of trees, &c., at sunrise and sunset, , . interference rings, . -- spectra, , , , . iridescent clouds, , , , , . jardin, the, , . joch, the passage of a, . joule, m., on heat and work, . jungfrau, the, . --, evening near, . laminated structure, , , . léchaud, glacier de, , . -- -- --, motion of, , - . lenticular structure, . light and heat, , , . --, undulation theory of, . linth, m. escher de la, . liquefaction of ice, , . liquid flowers, , - , . magnetic force, . magnetism of rocks, , , . märjelen see, , . mastic, brücke's solution of, . mattmark see, . maximum motion, locus of point of, , . mayenwand, summit of, , , . mayer, on connexion of heat with work, . measurement of glaciers, . mer de glace, - , - , . -- -- --, dirt-bands of the, (seen from charmoz, , ; from cleft station, , ; from the flégère, ). -- -- --, map of, , . -- -- --, motion of, - . -- -- --, winter motion of, , . -- -- --, winter visit to, , - . milk, cause of blueness of, . mirage, . montanvert, , , . -- in winter, . mont blanc, first ascent of, . -- --, second ascent of, . -- --, summit of, , . monte rosa, first ascent of, . -- --, second ascent of, . -- --, summit of, , . -- --, western glacier of, , . -- --, zones of colour, , . moraines, . -- of talèfre, , , , . motion of glaciers, , - , . moulins, , . --, depth of, . --, motion of, . necker, letter from, . neufchâtelois, hôtel des, , , . névé ice, , . oberland, the, visited, - ; - ; . oils, effect of films of, . person, m., on softening of ice, . pistol fired on summit of mont blanc, , , . pitch of musical sounds, . planes of freezing, , , . plasticity of ice, thomson's theory of, . polar forces, . pressure and cleavage, see cleavage. -- and liquefaction of ice, , . -- -- veined structure, ; - , - , , - . --, effects of, on boiling point, . -- -- -- -- ice, , . -- theory of glacier motion, . radiant heat, , . rays, calorific, . --, transmission of, . redness of sunset, . refraction on lake of geneva, . regelation, , . reichenbach fall, . rendu, comparison of glacier to river, . --, measurements of glaciers, . --, notice of regelation, . -- on conversion of snow into ice, . -- on ductility, . -- on law of circulation, . -- on motion of glaciers, . -- on veined structure, . -- theory of glaciers, . rhone at lake of geneva, , . -- glacier, , , , . -- --, chromatic effects, , . ridges on glaciers, , . riffelhorn, the, , - . rings, interference, . -- round sun, , . ripples deduced from rings, . ripple theory, forbes on, . -- -- of veined structure, . -- waves, movement of, . river and glacier, analogies between, - , ; . rocks, magnetism of, , , . saas, avalanche at, . sabine, gen., on veined structure, . sand-cones, . saussure's theory of glacier motion, , . scheuchzer's theory of glacier motion, . seams, white, in ice, , , , . sedgwick, prof., on cleavage, - , , . séracs, , . serpentine, boulders of, . shadows, coloured, . sharpe, on slaty cleavage, , . silberhorn, the, . sky, blueness of, , , . --, colours of, explained, . slate, cleavage of, , . snow, blue colour of, , , . -- crystals, , , . --, dry, . -- line, , . --, perpetual, . --, sound of breaking, . -- storm, sound through, . --, whiteness of, explained, . sorby, mr., on slaty cleavage, , . sound in a vacuum, . --, intensity of, . --, rate of motion of, . spectra, interference, , , , . spectrum, rays of, . stars, twinkling of, , . stelvio, pass of, . storm on grands mulets, . -- -- mer de glace, . strahleck, glacier of, , . --, passage of, , . strata of ice, . stratification of névé, . -- -- slate, , . structure, doubts regarding, , , . -- of ice, , , see veined structure. subjective colours, . summary of glacier theory, . sun, rings round, , . sunrise at chamouni, . -- and sunset, illumination of trees, &c., at, , . sunset, gorgeous, . tables, glacier, , - . tacul, motion of ice-wall at, . talèfre, glacier of, , - , . --, moraines of, , , , . temperature, winter, of alps, . theodolite, use of, . theory of cleavage, . thermometer at jardin, . -- buried on mont blanc, . -- on finsteraarhorn, . thomson, prof., theory of plasticity, . -- -- -- -- regelation, . twinkling of stars, , . tyrol, the, . undulation theory of light, . unteraar, glacier of, , , . vacuum in ice-cavities, , . veined structure, (_marginal_, ; _transverse_, ; _longitudinal_, ), , , . -- --, experiments on, , . -- -- caused by pressure, - , - , , - . -- -- crossing strata, - . -- --, forbes on, . -- --, gen. sabine on, . -- --, m. guyot on, . -- --, ripple theory of, . viesch, glacier of, , . viscosity, , , , , . water absorbs red rays, . --, blue colour of, ; , , . --, rippling waves of, . waves, frozen, , . --, interference of, . -- motion, weber on, , . -- of sound, . wengern alp, . wetterhorn, echoes of, . white ice, seams of, , , , , . whiteness of ice, , , . winter motion of mer de glace, . wrinkles on glacier, . young, thomas, theory of light, . _spottiswoode & co. printers, new-street square, london._ works by john tyndall. fragments of science: a series of detached essays, addresses, and reviews. vols. crown vo. _s._ vol. i.--the constitution of nature--radiation--on radiant heat in relation to the colour and chemical constitution of bodies--new chemical reactions produced by light--on dust and disease--voyage to algeria to observe the eclipse--niagara--the parallel roads of glen roy--alpine sculpture--recent experiments on fog-signals--on the study of physics--on crystalline and slaty cleavage--on paramagnetic and diamagnetic forces--physical basis of solar chemistry--elementary magnetism--on force--contributions to molecular physics--life and letters of faraday--the copley medalist of --the copley medalist of --death by lightning--science and the spirits. vol. ii.--reflections on prayer and natural law--miracles and special providences--on prayer as a form of physical energy--vitality--matter and force--scientific materialism--an address to students--scientific use of the imagination--the belfast address--apology for the belfast address--the rev. james martineau and the belfast address--fermentation, and its bearings on surgery and medicine--spontaneous generation--science and man--professor virchow and evolution--the electric light. new fragments. crown vo. _s._ _d._ contents: the sabbath--goethe's 'farbenlehre'--atoms, molecules and ether waves--count rumford--louis pasteur, his life and labours--the rainbow and its congeners--address delivered at the birkbeck institution on october , --thomas young--life in the alps--about common water--personal recollections of thomas carlyle--on unveiling the statue of thomas carlyle--on the origin, propagation, and prevention of phthisis--old alpine jottings--a morning on alp lusgen. lectures on sound. with frontispiece of fog-syren, and other woodcuts and diagrams in the text. crown vo. _s._ _d._ heat, a mode of motion. with woodcuts and diagrams. crown vo. _s._ lectures on light delivered in the united states in and . with portrait, lithographic plate, and diagrams. crown vo. _s._ essays on the floating matter of the air in relation to putrefaction and infection. with woodcuts. crown vo. _s._ _d._ researches on diamagnetism and magne-crystallic action; including the question of diamagnetic polarity. crown vo. _s._ notes of a course of nine lectures on light, delivered at the royal institution of great britain, . crown vo. _s._ _d._ notes of a course of seven lectures on electrical phenomena and theories, delivered at the royal institution of great britain, . crown vo. _s._ _d._ lessons in electricity at the royal institution, - . with woodcuts and diagrams. crown vo. _s._ _d._ faraday as a discoverer. crown vo. _s._ _d._ london: longmans, green, & co. transcriber's notes. the titles from the list of illustrations were copied to the captions of the figures that otherwise had no caption, for the convenience of the reader. the "sidenotes" in the main body of the text were originally page headers. they have been moved to a place more fitting for the flow, typically to the head of the appropriate paragraph. spelling variants where there was no obviously preferred choice were retained. these include: "cleft-station" and "cleft station," plus variants; "cima di jazzi" and "cima de jazzi;" "fanlike" and "fan-like;" "firewood" and "fire-wood;" "flégère" and "flegère;" "foreshorten(ed)" and "fore-shorten(ing);" "generalisation" and "generalization;" "judgment" and "judgement;" "kumm" and "kumme," which may be the same as "kamm;" "lime light" and "lime-light;" "realize" and "realise(d);" "recognise" and "recognize(d);" "rearranged" and "re-arranged;" "refrozen" and "re-frozen;" "self-same" and "selfsame;" "semifluid" and "semi-fluid;" "sundial" and "sun-dial;" "trift" and "trifti," probably the same glacier; "weatherworn" and "weather-worn." in the latin- encoded text version, the oe-ligature was replaced by the two separate characters, "oe." changed "hockjoch" to "hochjoch" on page xi: "passage of the hochjoch." changed " " to " " on page xvii, as the page number for chapter . changed "icefall" to "ice-fall" on page xxvi: "part of ice-fall." changed "havresack" to "haversack" on page : "my waterproof haversack." changed "afflùent" to "affluent" on page : "finsteraar affluent." changed " °. " to " . °" on page . changed "gulleys" to "gullies" on page : "fissures and gullies." changed "snowstorm" to "snow-storm" in the sidenote from page : "sound through the snow-storm." changed "neutralise" to "neutralize" on page : "oppose and neutralize." moved the semi-colon inside the double quotes on page , around: "corresponding points." changed "thompson's" to "thomson's" in the chapter heading on page : "thomson's theory." changed "last" to "least" in the footnote to page : "at least as anxious." changed "i" to "it" on page : "it was also." "die gletscher der jetzzeit" on page should probably be "die gletscher der jetztzeit," but was not changed. inserted a comma in the index entry for "aletsch glacier:" "-- --, bedding." inserted a comma in the index entry for "dirt-bands:" "-- --, maps of." changed "goutér" to "goûter" in the index entry for "dôme du goûter." changed "hoch-joch" to "hochjoch" in its index entry. inserted second em-dash in the index entry for "mont blanc:" "-- --, second ascent of." inserted a comma in the index entry for "rays:" "--, transmission of." inserted a comma in the index entry for "strahleck:" "--, passage of." transcriber note italic text is denoted by _underscores_. glaciÈres or freezing caverns [illustration: ice slope and basin, kolowratshÖhle.] glaciÈres or freezing caverns by edwin swift balch a. b. (harvard); f. r. g. s. member of the franklin institute of the appalachian mountain club of the american philosophical society author of "mountain exploration," &c. philadelphia allen, lane & scott copyright, , by edwin swift balch. press of allen, lane & scott, philadelphia, pa. this book is affectionately dedicated to my mother, whose deep interest in my work has helped me greatly. preliminary note. many kind friends have given me information about glacières or assistance in my work. i am especially indebted to mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal.; mr. f. h. cushing, of washington, d. c.; professor charles e. fay, of tufts college, mass.; professor eberhard fugger, of salzburg, austria; mr. alois f. kovarik, of decorah, iowa; monsieur e. a. martel, of paris, france; mr. john ritchie, jr., of boston, mass.; professor i. c. russell, of ann arbor, mich.; miss h. varena, of wiesbaden, germany; and miss mary coxe, mr. g. l. farnum, mr. j. e. farnum, mr. f. l. garrison, mr. w. c. hall, mr. e. i. h. howell, mrs. horace jayne, mr. w. e. meehan, mr. c. j. nicholson, mr. g. b. phillips, mr. bunford samuel, mr. w. w. wagner, and dr. w. h. wahl, of philadelphia. i wish to acknowledge also the help i have derived from the bibliothèque nationale and the library of the british museum. e. s. b. philadelphia, february the th, . contents. page part i. experiences in glacières part ii. the causes of subterranean ice part iii. list of glacières part iv. some opinions about glacières part v. list of authors index illustrations. ice slope and basin, kolowratshöhle frontispiece glacière de chaux-les-passavant ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant vertical section of chaux-les-passavant ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant vertical section of dóbsina the lower rositten alp and the untersberg the entrance of the kolowratshöhle vertical section of the kolowratshöhle top of ice slope, kolowratshöhle at the entrance of the schafloch hollow cones and fissure columns, schafloch on the ice slope, schafloch in the rear of the schafloch vertical section of déményfálva the frauenmauer and the gsoll alp in the frauenmauerhöhle vertical section of the frauenmauerhöhle ice stalactite, frauenmauerhöhle vertical section of the suchenreuther eisloch la glacière de saint-georges vertical section of the glacière de saint-georges vertical section of grand cave de montarquis the bluff at decorah entrance of the cave of decorah locus glacialis, cave of decorah gorge at ellenville vertical section of pit near summit vertical section of freezing cave near williamstown vertical section of a windhole freezing cavern at brainard part i. experiences in glaciÈres. experiences in glaciÈres. subterranean ice in king's ravine. subterranean ice was brought to my notice by a mere accident, late in the month of september, , while on a descent of king's ravine, on mount adams, in the white mountains of new hampshire. we had just descended the rock wall of the mountain and had reached the head of the gorge, when my companion, mr. charles e. lowe, the well-known appalachian guide of randolph, suddenly said to me, "would you like a piece of ice? i can get you some presently." i answered, "certainly," wondering where he would find any. when we got among the big boulders, which form so rough a path for the traveler at the bottom of the ravine, mr. lowe climbed down under one of the biggest, and presently reappeared with a good sized lump of ice. i was much impressed at finding ice at the end of the summer in this gorge, when for months past no ice or snow had been visible on the surrounding mountains. i noticed also the peculiar, flaky formation of the ice, and saw at once that it was something new to me, and in fact it was a piece of what i have since learned to know as "prismatic ice." glaciÈre near brisons. in the summer of the year , i traveled through the alps, with a friend from philadelphia. on the th of september, we drove from geneva to bonneville. thence we started on foot without a guide, and as a result got lost in the woods, from which we only extricated ourselves at nightfall. after retracing our steps to bonneville, we were glad to find a man to show us the way we should have taken, and finally reached the little village of brisons in france, where we slept. the next day we took a guide and made our way across the mountains to annecy, at one spot going out of our direct route to see a place spoken of by the natives as a glacière. it was a little pit, and at the base of one side thereof was the mouth of a small cave into which we could not see any distance. at the bottom of the pit lay a mass of dirty snow and ice to which we did not descend, as the sides of the pit were sheer and smooth, and there was no ladder. this pit seemed to be more of the nature of a gully filled with winter snow, than a true rock cave containing ice. the glaciÈre de l'haut-d'aviernoz. three days after this, on tuesday, the st of september, , we visited the two largest glacières on the mont parmelan, near annecy, france. at annecy we inquired at the hotel for a man who knew the mont parmelan; and, after finding one, we made our way to les villaz, where we spent the night in an _auberge_. our companion was an odd personage. he was small, about fifty years of age, and looked meek, crushed and hungry. he wore a long black frock coat and black trousers, thin boots and a linen shirt, certainly not the ideal outfit for a cave explorer. under his care we started early in the morning and toiled up a mountain path some eight hundred or a thousand meters,[ ] through woods and pastures, to the higher plateau of mont parmelan, in which was situated the first glacière. this was in a great pit, at the bottom of which, on one side, was a big cave. on the side of the pit opposite to the opening, there was a steep rock slope, forty or fifty meters long, whose lower portion was covered with snow. down this slope we descended with but little difficulty, reaching at the bottom an almost level ice floor which spread over the entire cave and was formed throughout of thick, solid ice. a second and much smaller pit in the roof of the cave opened directly over the ice floor; and under this pit rose a small cone of ice, some two meters high, the only one in this glacière. [ ] the metric system is used throughout this book, except in a few quotations. thermometric observations are given in degrees centigrade. the glacière itself was approximately round in shape, and some twenty meters in diameter. at one place the rock wall was broken and we could look into a much smaller inner cave or chamber. into this we could not penetrate on account of a long, narrow crack or hole which yawned in the ice floor for a distance of some five or six meters and continued through the opening into the second chamber. we tried to cut our way along the side of the hole, but had to give it up, finding the ice too hard and our time too short. the crack or hole, whose sides were solid ice, proved conclusively that the ice in this glacière was many meters in thickness, for we could look a long way down into the hole, certainly for ten or twelve meters, until the ice sides disappeared in darkness, without any visible bottom. the hole cannot be spoken of as a crevasse, for, besides not looking like a crevasse, it was certainly formed by other causes than those which form the crevasses in glaciers, since there is, as a rule, no perceptible movement in subterranean ice. doubtless, the hole was due to the drainage of the cave, which undoubtedly passed off through the hole. there may be, nevertheless, some little motion in the ice of this glacière, for it is evident that it is fed principally directly by the winter snows; which, whether as frozen or melted snow, descend gradually, by the force of gravitation, from the slope of the pit into the glacière. as for any possibility of this great mass of ice melting away and forming again in any one year, it passes belief; there must be at least the cubic contents of a dozen ordinary houses in the cave, and such a mass could hardly be destroyed or formed again in any such short space of time as a fall or spring. this is, therefore, probably a permanent or perennial glacière. the glaciÈre de chapuis. starting out from the glacière de l'haut-d'aviernoz we walked across the plateau of the mont parmelan, _en route_ for the second glacière. this plateau is a curious rock formation, consisting of what the natives call _lapiaz_, which might be translated "stone-heaps." the plateau is full of great projecting rocks; and myriads of cracks and crevices everywhere rend the surface, and over these crevices one sometimes has to jump. still, i do not remember any particular difficulty. it was certainly not nearly as bad walking as the taluses of loose rocks one meets at the base of many mountains. our guide led us for about an hour across the plateau in a southerly direction, and then, looking over the side of the parmelan, with a sweep of the arm covering south, west and north, he told us that the glacière lay between those points, but he did not know exactly where. this seemed a rather hopeless prospect, so, as we had no clue to the whereabouts of our prospective hole, we descended to a couple of châlets we saw some two hundred meters below, but which at least were in the direction of annecy. we followed a goat-herd's path which led to the châlets from the plateau, one of those dangerous grass tracks, where nothing would be easier than to make a slip, and where a bad slip might have unpleasant results. this is, however, just the kind of place where every one is particularly careful not to slip. we were careful and so reached the châlets all right, and there we found a strong, intelligent boy, who at once pointed out the place where the glacière was, about half way up the slope we had just come down. so we took him with us, leaving our guide at the châlets to await our return. the entrance to the glacière was in a wall of rock, set at an angle of some thirty-five degrees; at the bottom of this there was some grass. an easy chimney some fifteen meters high led up to the glacière. up this chimney we climbed. at the top we entered a little cave about two meters deep, by a sort of portal about two meters wide. the cave made an elbow to the right, and passing this we found that it turned to the left and pointed directly into the mountain. the rock went down vertically in front of us, but the boy said we could get down, so having first lowered a candle by a string to see the depth, which turned out to be a perpendicular drop of some four or five meters, with the help of the rope we all climbed down. we were already almost entirely away from the daylight and a few steps took us into complete darkness, except for the light we had from the candle each of us held in his hand. the fissure led straight into the mountain. it was a couple of meters wide at places, and there we moved along the bottom. in one place it narrowed below to a wedge, and there we progressed either by climbing along one side or by placing one foot on one side and the other foot on the other. the fissure led downwards as well as inwards. it would have been nothing in daylight to go through it; but in the semi-darkness it was not easy. after a descent of some twenty-five meters or thereabouts, we arrived at the glacière, and i have certainly never seen a weirder place. there was a great arched rock dome, perhaps six meters in height, and some twelve in diameter; the floor was a sheet of smooth, slippery ice, at one end curling over, gently at first, afterwards more steeply, to a lower depth; and on the sides were seven or eight ice columns streaming from cracks in the rocks to the floor. each of these columns was some three or four meters high, and, small at the top and in the middle, spread out at the base into the shape of fans. in the dim candle light and the cold damp atmosphere, the columns loomed up like so many ghosts, and the landscape impression was strange and solemn. the air here seemed perfectly still. there was another curiosity. the fissure we had come down, at this point some three meters wide, was filled, just beyond the glacière, with pure, transparent water, which formed a little lake: this was perhaps one meter deep, and extended across the fissure, barring further progress. it certainly seems strange that in the same cavern, under nearly the same conditions of temperature, there should be one place covered with a flooring of ice and another filled with water. the explanation, however, is perhaps not far to seek. over the lake there was a distinct draught of air. the draught probably melts the ice in summer, if indeed it does not prevent any from forming in winter. there are, so far, no winter observations reported of this cave, yet it would seem to be one which would well repay the trouble. the glaciÈre de chaux-les-passavant. on the th of august, , my brother and i arrived at besançon, the vesontio of the romans, bent on seeing the glacière de chaux-les-passavant or de la grâce-dieu, which is not far distant from the town. the hotel we stopped at was pretty bad; the beds were surmounted with those old-fashioned curtains which were of use before the invention of glass windows, but which now only serve to exclude air and ventilation. however, i learnt something of the manners and customs of the country, for on getting down at six o'clock the next morning for breakfast, the first question the waiter asked was: _quel vin monsieur prendra-t-il?_ at seven o'clock we sallied forth in a little open one-horse victoria, with a dull gray sky overhead. besançon is well down in a valley, so the first five miles of the road were a slow, gradual rise to the surrounding levels. the scenery as we drove along reminded us of turner's pictures: distant vistas of hills and valleys with factories blowing off their smoke and with tumble-down old houses ensconced in picturesque nooks, just those long-distance effects that turner loved to paint and which, for some reason, the artists of the present generation have generally neglected and usually speak of as unpaintable or unpicturesque. there was a row of trees, the whole way, on each side of the road, a bit of practical forestry, the wisdom of which it would be well for americans to recognize. after our poor horse had pulled us up the long hills, we had an almost level road running in a straight line as far as the eye could see. we saw at least a hundred little hawks, who live on field mice and other rodents, and whose preservation is another evidence of french wisdom. the last four miles of the drive was up a ravine in the woods, near the beginning of which we passed the trappist convent of la grâce-dieu. [illustration: glaciÈre de chaux-les-passavant. from a photograph by e. mauvillier. ] opposite the entrance of the glacière, there is a little restaurant where the peasants come to dance and picnic, and where the few travellers who get to these parts, can obtain a tolerable _déjeuner_. they keep a fair _vin du pays_ there, and we had some trouble on the way home in consequence. our driver, a talkative specimen of the genus and an old soldier of bourbaki's, told us, on the way out, many things about besançon during the franco-german war and of the retreat of the french army into switzerland; but on the way home, he showed that he evidently was not a member of the blue ribbon army. he first seemed desirous of not taking us back to besançon, preferring to go in the other direction towards bale; and afterwards he evinced a violent inclination to go to sleep. we thought we should have to request him to change seats with us, and drive back ourselves, but we obviated the difficulty by plying him with questions as soon as he began to nod on his box. eventually, we reached besançon all right, only once bumping a passing cart, and only once nearly capsizing into a ditch. if americans can learn some points from europeans about forestry, i think the latter might get some equally valuable information from us concerning the use of water, externally and internally. the good lady at the restaurant acts the part of the old-fashioned cave dragon, and we had to appease her by handing over four _sous_ as a preliminary to exploration. she also had a sign up, saying that no one is allowed to break off or take away any ice, which must sadly interfere with the tourists' privilege of bringing away specimens. the entrance of the glacière was surrounded by woods, which formed a natural rampart to anything like wind. as we stood facing the glacière a great pit opened before us, with a slope about one hundred and thirty-five meters long leading to the bottom. this slope is at first gentle in its gradient, but lower down it steepens to an angle of some thirty degrees so that we were glad to resort to the trail which descends in regular alpine zigzags. in one place, on the right hand, there were the remains of a stone wall with a door, and local tradition relates that in former times there was a sort of fortified habitation there, which was used in war times as a place of retreat. the lower part of the slope is covered by a protecting roof of rock which, thin at the rim where it is edged with forest, gradually slopes downward overhead so that at the mouth of the glacière we looked back and up what might be described as an immense tunnel. the lower part of the slope was a mixture of broken rocks, mud and ice: the last, however, seemed to be all on the surface, although it was impossible to determine whether it went to any depth. [illustration: ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant. from a photograph by e. mauvillier. ] at the base of the tunnel we found ourselves on the threshold of an immense, almost circular cave, with a diameter of some fifty meters, rising overhead into a regular vault or dome about twenty-seven meters in height. the entrance to the cave is so large that plenty of daylight is admitted, and the whole cave easily examined. the rocks are of a yellowish brown hue, and i could not help thinking of nibelheim in richard wagner's rheingold. [illustration: fig. .[ ] vertical section of chaux-les-passavant.] [ ] the figures in this book are rough sketches, without pretense at accuracy of measurement, and are only explanatory of the text. the bottom of the cave was entirely covered with a flooring of ice. how thick this flooring was there was no means of judging, as there were no holes, but it must have been at least two or three meters thick in places. at the back of the cavern, directly facing the entrance, one magnificent frozen water fall streamed from a fissure. it was perhaps five meters high, and began to take the fan shape from its origin. the base was about four meters wide, and did not rest on the ice floor, but on a sloping rock extending out from the side of the cave. perhaps the most remarkable feature of all, were six or seven great ice stalagmites, shaped like cones or rough pyramids, which rose on the floor of the cave. one of these was at least five meters in diameter and six in height, and seemed perfectly solid. in the case of two of the others, however, the cones were broken on one side, revealing in each the stem and branches of a young pine tree. these evidently had been planted in the ice and round them the columns had grown. whether all the ice cones were thus artificial in their origin i could not determine, but it seemed probable that they were the result of years of undisturbed accretion and growth. in both the cones where the break on the side gave a view into the interior, the dark blue-green color of deep glacier crevasses was present. a pool of water, perhaps thirty centimeters in depth and three or four meters in diameter, lay at one place on the ice floor. the whole cave was damp and the ice in places decidedly slushy, in fact all the signs showed that it was thawing. in the case of this glacière as well as in those of the mont parmelan, it seemed clear that it must be in the winter months that the formation of ice takes place. [illustration: ice stalagmites, chaux-les-passavant. from a photograph by e. mauvillier. ] dÓbsina jegbarlang. the cavern of dóbsina, in the carpathian mountains, is easily reached either from poprád to the north, or from dóbsina to the south. the hotel at poprád is better, however, than the inn at dóbsina, where my brother and i spent two nights. it was decidedly primitive. the food was not so bad, but the pigs ran round in the courtyard, and one morning a gypsy band woke us at half-past three o'clock by playing in front of our windows, in dreadful wailing tones, which were most irritating at that hour. at the proper time, however, hungarian gypsy music,--despite the fact that none of the players ever seem to look at the leader, and that each man appears to play the tune he likes the best,--is strangely fascinating. dóbsina itself lies in a hollow, surrounded with well-wooded hills, the general appearance much resembling some of the valleys of the white mountains of new hampshire. my brother and i started from dóbsina on the morning of the th of july, , at half-past seven o'clock, in a little open carriage with excellent horses and a hungarian driver in national costume. he was a nice fellow, but he did not understand a word of german. the road reminded us of some of our own mountain roads, as it was rough, full of holes and partly washed away by the rains. we first ascended to the crest of the surrounding hills and then descended to the stracena thal, a wild limestone valley covered with fine forest. two hours and a half driving landed us at the hotel-restaurant near the cave, at which i should certainly stop on another visit. it was half an hour's stroll thence, through beautiful woods, to the cavern's entrance. northwards in the distance the tátra range was visible, a set of sharp bare rock peaks, at whose base, ensconced in pine forests, is situated the famous hungarian summer resort of tátra füred, which much resembles bar harbor. the entrance to the cavern is enclosed by a fence with a gate, and here the dóbsina people have a high tariff and take toll from tourists. at the gate, we waited for half an hour, until a sufficient number of persons had arrived to form a party. this mode of visiting the cave rather detracts from the pleasure, even though it does away with all difficulty and makes the beauties of dóbsina accessible to everyone. it was also necessary to wait long enough to cool off thoroughly before entering, on account of the icy air of the cavern, where heavy winter clothes are indispensable. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of dóbsina.] the entrance to dóbsina faces nearly due north. it is small, perhaps two meters wide and three meters high, and is perfectly sheltered from any wind. the sudden drop in temperature at the entrance was startling; in fact it was the most extreme change i have noticed in any cave. within the length of an ordinary room, say in a distance of five meters, we passed from an extremely hot summer morning to the chill of a mid-winter afternoon. a slight air current, perhaps, issued from the entrance, as we observed a faint mist there. at the rock portal there was ice on the rocks overhead, and underfoot was the beginning of the huge mass of ice which almost fills the cavern. a descent down eighteen wooden steps landed us at the beginning of a great ice floor, in what is called the _grosser saal_. it is a magnificent cave. the floor is a sheet or rather a mass of solid ice, the surface of which is level enough in one place to permit of skating; in other spots it is sloping and covered with small ice hillocks. the ice is solid throughout, without any holes or cracks. several fissure columns stream to the floor from cracks in the sides. joining the roof to the floor are numerous big ice stalactites, which form frozen pillars and columns. these are from eight to eleven meters in height, and some two to three meters in average breadth and width. nearly translucent, they are covered with all sorts of icy ornaments hanging about them in tufts and fringes; they are beautiful in their shapes, as well as in their white and blue colors. one of these columns is called the _brunnen_, because until about ten years ago, a small stream dribbled continuously from the roof and cut a channel across the ice floor; but now the stream has solidified into the pillar, and the channel is filled up, although it can still be traced in the ice. the cavern is lighted by electricity, which has the merit, even if it brings in an element of artificiality, of clearly revealing one of the chief glories of dóbsina. this is the rime or hoar frost, which in the shape of ice or snow crystals, covers the entire limestone roof, and, reflecting the electric light, shines like frosted silver. some of these frost crystals seem to be precipitated to the floor, and in one place i found a small sheet of them, perhaps two meters in width each way, which looked and felt like genuine snow. the general color effect of all this upper cave is white, although there is some blue in the ice, and gray and brown in the rocks and shadows. it would not be much of a misnomer to call dóbsina "the great white cave." the ice extended to the sides of the cave except in two places. here there were holes in the ice, bridged by low rock arches. we passed through one of these and descended by a wooden staircase some eighty steps, afterwards returning up through the other arch by another staircase. at the bottom we stood in a magnificent gallery named the _korridor_, formed by a solid wall of ice on one side and by a wall of limestone rock on the other. the ice wall is the lower portion of the ice floor; the rock wall is the continuation of the roof. for the entire distance the ice wall rises almost perpendicularly some fifteen meters in height, while the rock wall arches overhead. [illustration: the lower rositten alp and the untersberg.] the bottom of the _korridor_ was filled with blocks of fallen limestone, through which any water drains off, and on which there was a wooden walk, so that we circled round the ice with the greatest ease. at one place on the limestone wall hung a cluster of big icicles, which, from their shape really deserved the name they bear, of the _orgel_. at another place a hole, some six or seven meters deep, was hewn, in the form of a small chamber, directly into the ice mass. this is the _kapelle_, where we performed our devotions by leaving our visiting cards on the floor. near the middle of the _korridor_ the ice mass bulges out and extends to the limestone wall, breaking the whole _korridor_ into two parts, the western portion about eighty meters, and the eastern about one hundred and twenty meters long. this necessitated cutting a tunnel about eight meters long in the ice to get through. the color of the _korridor_ is a darkish gray and is much more sombre than that of the _grosser saal_. a remarkable feature of the ice wall is the fact that distinct bands of stratification are visible in the ice in many places. why the _korridor_ is not filled up with ice and why the ice is perpendicular for such a distance are questions i am unable to answer satisfactorily; but it is probable that the temperature of the rock walls is sufficiently high to prevent ice from forming in winter or to melt it in summer if it does form in winter. the air in dóbsina seemed still, and scarcely felt damp. in one or two places in the _grosser saal_ there was a slight sloppiness, showing incipient signs of thaw. in the _korridor_ it was freezing hard. the kolowratshÖhle. the kolowratshöhle is situated on the north slope of the untersberg, near salzburg, at an altitude of meters. my brother and i visited it on the d of august, . we had one of the patented guides of the district, jacob gruber by name, in regular tyrolese dress, with gray _jacke_ and black chamois knee breeches. we left salzburg in the early morning in an _einspänner_ and drove to the foot of the untersberg in about an hour, whence, by a rough path passing by the rositten alp, we ascended to the cave in about three hours. the last hundred and sixteen meters of the path were cut across some moderately steep rock slabs and a perfectly unnecessary iron hand-railing affixed. the entrance faces northeast. here there must have been a slight draught of cold air moving outwards, the effect of which was perceptible to the eye, as at the point where the cold inside air met the quiet warm outside air, a faint mist was visible. from the entrance, a sharp slope, set at an angle of about forty degrees, led to the lowest point of the cave. the upper half of this slope was still covered with the winter snow which had blown or had slid in. we descended on the right hand edge of the snow by means of some steps cut in the rock by the _deutschen-oesterreichischen alpen club_. these steps were covered with a sticky, red mud, which left almost ineradicable stains on our clothing, and as there was also ice in places, they were decidedly slippery. [illustration: the entrance of the kolowratshÖhle.] [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the kolowratshöhle.] at the bottom of the slope we were at the lowest point of the cave, to which all the water flowed, and where it drained off into a crack with a loud gurgling noise. back of us was the daylight streaming through the entrance; opposite to us was first an ice floor, then a great ice slope, which came down from the further end of the cave. the ice was transparent and of a pale ochre-greenish hue, and filled the entire width of the cave. there is a streak of iron, probably, through the limestone, which in places tints the rocks a dull red. the color impression is a dull green-red, and, on account of the size of the entrance, the light effect is only semi-subterranean. the ice floor was covered with a layer of slabs of ice, eight or ten centimeters thick, which, earlier in the year, had evidently had water under them. the ice wall or ice slope consisted of two big waves, one above the other, the lower set at an angle of about ten degrees, the upper set at an angle of about twenty-five degrees. to get up the upper wave required about twelve steps cut with the axe. behind the upper wave, five or six fissure columns streamed out to the beginning of the ice. one ice stalactite, at least two or three meters long, overhung the ice floor, and gruber said about this: "well, i wonder it has not fallen yet: they seldom last as late in the year," a confirmation of what was clearly evident, namely, that the whole cave was in a state of thaw. in two places there was a strong, continuous drip from the roof to the ice floor, which formed, in each case, what i can only call an ice basin. these basins were nearly circular; one was about four meters, the other about two, in diameter. around about two-thirds of the rim of the larger one, ice rose in a surrounding ring two or three meters high, suggesting that earlier in the year this basin was a cone, and possibly a hollow cone. the depth in the ice floor, in both cases, was about one and a half meters, and each basin contained some thirty centimeters in depth of water. they reminded me of the rock basins one sees in mountain torrents, where an eddying current has worn smooth all the edges of the rocks. from the larger of these basins, a channel as deep as the basin ran to the lowest point of the cave. this channel was cut out by the overflow, which ran through it in a tiny stream.[ ] [ ] the photographs of the rositten alp, of the entrance of the kolowratshöhle, and of the interior of the kolowratshöhle, were made for me on the th of july, , by herr carl hintner, jr., of salzburg. the two latter photographs are, i believe, the first good ones ever obtained of the inside of the cave. they were taken without artificial light on quick plates; the best of the two received an hour and a half, the other two hours' exposure. the photographer said at first that it was not possible to succeed, and it was only by promising to pay him in any case, that he could be induced to try. [illustration: top of ice slope, kolowratshÖhle.] the schafloch. the schafloch, on the rothhorn, near the lake of thoune, is one of the biggest glacières in the alps. on the th of august, , after early coffee, made by the _portier_ of the hotel belvedère at interlaken, i drove to merligen, on the north shore of the lake, with emil von allmen, an excellent guide. we left merligen on foot at a quarter before seven, and, making no stops on the way, reached the schafloch at ten minutes past ten. the path mounts gently up the wüste thal, which higher up is called the justiz thal. the track through the latter is almost on a level, over grassy alps. on the right hand rise the steep, almost dolomitic, limestone cliffs of the beatenberg. on the left is the range of the rothhorn, with steep grass and forest slopes below, and limestone cliffs above. the last hour of the walk was up these slopes, by what baedeker calls a "giddy path." by leaving the word "giddy" out, his description is accurate. the cavern is at the base of the limestone cliff, and the grass slope extends up to it. the entrance to the schafloch is at an altitude of meters: it is a fine archway, and a low wall is built partly across it. in front of this, we sat down and consumed our chicken and cheese, and that best of a traveller's drinks, cold tea. the day was windless, and when i lighted a cigar, to see whether there was any draught at the entrance, the smoke rose straight up, showing that the air was perfectly still. when we were sufficiently cooled off, we entered the cave. the entrance faces east-south-east, but after about ten meters the cavern takes a sharp turn to the left, forming a sort of elbow, and runs about due south, constantly descending in an almost straight line. for the first eighty meters or so, the floor was covered with blocks of fallen limestone, among which we had to carefully pick our way. then we began to find ice, which, a few meters further on, spread out across the entire width of the cave, with a gentle slope towards the left. the surface of the ice was rather soft, and the whole cave was evidently in a state of thaw. a few scratches with the axe--the most invaluable friend in an ice cave--were necessary at one place to improve our footing. it would have been impossible to move here without a light, and i carried our torch, made of rope dipped in pitch, which occasionally dropped black reminders on my clothes. we were in the middle of a great ice sheet to which several fissure columns streamed. on the right hand a beautiful ice stalactite flowed from the roof to the floor; it was some five meters high, and perhaps seventy-five centimeters in diameter, and swelled out slightly at the base. on the left hand were three or four ice stalagmites, shaped like pyramids or cones. [illustration: at the entrance of the schafloch.] one of these cones was especially remarkable. it was at least five meters high--von allmen said eight--and at the bottom was about four meters in diameter. the base of this cone was entirely hollow. there was a break on one side by which we could enter, and we then stood on a rock floor with a small ice dome or vault overhead. i have seen no other hollow cone like this. the guide lighted a red bengal fire inside, when the whole pyramid glowed with a delicate pink light, resembling _alpenglühn_. near this cone stood the half of another ice cone. it was quite perfect, and the missing half was cut off perpendicularly, as if with a huge cleaver. a hollow in the base of the remnant showed that this cone must have been originally also a hollow cone, and its destruction was probably due to the change in the temperature of the drip from the roof, at the setting in of the summer thaw. just beyond the cones, the ice floor steepens and curls over into a big ice slope, one of the finest i have seen. von allmen spoke of this as _der gletscher_, an expression i never heard applied elsewhere to subterranean ice. on the right side, the slope would be difficult to descend in the darkness. on the left, the slope is gentle and a rock juts out a little way down. von allmen insisted on roping--an unnecessary safeguard--but he said: "if you slip, you will probably break an arm or a leg, and then we shall be in a nice mess." he then cut about twelve steps in the ice, down to the rock, while i shed light on the performance with our torch. we were so completely away from daylight that black was the predominating color; and even the ice was a dark gray, and only appeared white in the high lights. below the rock, we found a narrow strip on the left side of the ice slope free from ice and blocked with boulders, over which we carefully picked our way down. at the bottom, the ice expanded into a level surface, stretching nearly to the end of the cave. there were only a few fissure columns in this part of the cavern, where the most remarkable feature was the cracks in the rock walls, which were so regular in formation that they almost looked like man's handiwork. the rocks are free from stalactites, and in fact stalactites seem a good deal of a rarity in glacières. on retracing our steps, we saw, when the first glimmers of daylight became perceptible, the rocks assume a brilliant blue color, as if they were flooded with moonlight. this effect lasted until near the mouth of the cavern. [illustration: hollow cone and fissure columns, schafloch.] dÉmÉnyfÁlva jegbarlang. a little west of poprád, in northern hungary, on the railroad between sillein and kassa, is the village of liptós szt miklós, to which place i journeyed on the th of june, . the conductor was the only man on the train or at any of the stations who would admit that there was a glacière at déményfálva, and that it was feasible to get into it: every one else professed entire ignorance on the subject. it is perhaps, worth noting at this time that it is always difficult to get any information about glacières; in fact, the advice about cooking a hare might well be applied to glacière hunting: first catch your glacière. the scenery between sillein and miklós was picturesque. the hills were covered with forest. in one place, the railroad ran through a beautiful mountain gorge alongside a river, where a number of rafts were floating down. there were also some primitive ferries, where a rope was stretched across the river, and the force of the current carried the ferryboat across, once it was started. many peasants were at work in the fields; often in squads. white, blue, brown, and a dash of red were the predominating colors in their dress. the men wore white trousers, made of a kind of blanket stuff, and a leather, heelless moccasin of nearly natural shape. almost all the women had bare feet; those of the older ones were generally shaped according to nature's own form, while those of the younger ones were generally distorted from wearing fashionable shoes. we went past several villages of huts with thatched roofs, something like the russian villages one sees beyond moscow, only less primitive. the inn at miklós was poor, and as at dóbsina, the pigs lived in the yard and occasionally came for an interview under the covered doorway. inquiries elicited the information that déményfálva could be reached by carriage, so i engaged one at the livery stable. the owner told me that about twenty years before, he leased the glacière and carried on a regular business in supplying buda-pest with ice. he had thirty lamps put in to give light to the workmen, who brought up the ice in baskets on their backs. at half past five o'clock next morning the carriage, which was innocent of paint, lined with a sort of basket work and without springs, but certainly strongly built, stood at the door. a boy of about eighteen years of age, who could speak german, went along as interpreter. the morning was dismal, and, every quarter of an hour or so, a shower of thick mist fell and gradually made us damp and uncomfortable. after about twenty minutes on a pretty bad road, we came to a place where there was a fork, and the driver turned to the left, over a track which consisted of two deep ruts through the fields. soon after, we heard some shouting behind us, and a fierce-looking man, in a leather jacket and carrying a large axe, came up and abused the driver. he was not an agreeable person; however, presently he simmered down and began to smile. it turned out that he was a _wächter_, that is, a guardian of the fields, and that we were trespassing. the driver meekly promised to return by the other route, and we went on our way in peace. after awhile, we drove into some woods and then into a mountain gorge, with forest-covered slopes at the base and with limestone cliffs jutting out above. here we came to the cottage of the _wächter_ or _förster_ of the surrounding woods, who also acted as guide to the cave, for the few tourists who came to see it; and when he heard of our destination, he at once slipped on a second ragged coat, took a woodman's axe and started on foot, going much faster than the carriage. this was not surprising, for the road resembled nothing but the bed of a mountain brook, a mass of boulders with ruts between them. this highway was made by the peasants driving their carts over the plain in the same place, and as the soil was cut away, the boulders appeared; and over and among these we went banging along, and we were jolted about and bumped into each other, until every bone in my body ached. [illustration: on the ice slope, schafloch.] at a quarter past seven o'clock we came to another house in a little glade, where the carriage stopped; and on asking the _förster_ for his name, he wrote down in my note book, in a clear well formed hand:--misura, franz. from the glade, ten minutes' walk on a mountain path, up an easy slope, took us to the entrance of déményfálva. it is about two meters wide by three quarters of a meter high. we passed through and entered a large chamber, well lighted from the right by another opening, which is higher up and bigger than the entrance. the air in this chamber was at about the same temperature as that of the outside air, and, on our return from the nether world, it seemed positively balmy. in the floor at the end of the chamber, a small pit yawns open. it is perpendicular on three sides and set at a sharp angle on the fourth. a wooden staircase of some two hundred steps, many of which are sadly out of repair, leads nearly straight down this slope to the glacière. after descending about eighty steps of the staircase, bits of ice appeared on the walls and floor and after some thirty steps more, a lateral gallery opened to the right, and into this we turned. this may be called the upper cave or story, for in démenyfálva--besides the entrance chamber--there are practically two stories, the upper one of which is mainly ornamented with stalactites, the lower one with ice. there was a little ice on the floor from which rose some small ice columns, perhaps fifty centimeters in height. the cave or gallery had a gentle downward slope and turned towards the left. after some little distance, we came to another wooden staircase, of ten or twelve steps, quite coated over with thick, solid ice. misura had to cut away at it for several minutes, before he could clear the steps enough to descend. this was in fact the beginning of an ice wall, the _eiswand_ or _eismauer_, which, turning to the right, flowed through a rock arch to the lowest cave. the rock arch or portal was some three meters wide and two meters high, and a fringe of beautiful organ-pipe like icicles hung on it on the right hand. just beyond the portal the ice sloped steeply for a couple of meters; then it became level and on it rose a little pyramid, a meter and a half in height perhaps, and a column; then the ice sloped away again to the lower cave. [illustration: in the rear of the schafloch.] [illustration: fig. . vertical section of démenyfálva.] we then continued our course beyond the rock portal along the upper cavern for about two hundred meters. it was a fine large gallery or passage and during the first fifty meters or so, we found numerous small ice cones, perhaps a hundred of them, from tiny little ones to some about forty centimeters in height. many of these were columnar in form, nearly as large at the top as at the base: in some cases the top was flat, and the columns then looked almost as if an upper portion were sawn off. i have seen this shape of column nowhere else. in places there were slabs and bits of ice on the floor. the last hundred meters of this upper cave was free from ice and was exceptionally dry. it was formed of a pale yellow limestone rock, almost dolomitic in color, and many stalactites, in their thousand various shapes, hung from the roof and on the sides. in one spot, one big limestone stalagmite towered up directly in the middle of the gallery. we did not go to the end of the cave, where ice has never been found. retracing our course past the rock portal to the entrance pit, we descended on the long staircase for some eighty steps more, the amount of ice on the rocks steadily increasing. in places, frost crystals had formed in small quantities on the roof and walls. at the bottom of the pit, another lateral gallery, directly under the upper gallery, opened to the right. entering this, we passed over broken limestone débris, which seemed to overlie a mass of ice. limestone stalactites were noticeable all through this lower cavern, and frost and icicles had sometimes formed over them, in which case the ice stalactite assumed the form of the limestone stalactite. advancing a few meters, we went by, on our right hand, an ice pyramid of a couple of meters in height. just beyond this, the cave turned to the left like the upper cave, and we descended to a level floor of transparent ice, into which we could see some distance. at this spot, numerous icicles, generally of inconsiderable size, hung from the roof and on the sides of the cavern. at the further end of this ice floor or ice lake we reached an ice slope, the _eiswand_, which flowed to the ice floor from the upper cave in several waves. it was some six meters wide and twenty-five meters long; and it was not steep, perhaps fifteen degrees in the steepest portions. on the slope some old, nearly obliterated steps were visible, and at these misura proceeded to cut, and with torch in one hand and axe in the other, gradually worked his way up, until he once more reached the level spot whence we had looked down the ice slope. here he stood waving his torch, a proceeding indeed he did constantly throughout the trip, for he seemed exceedingly proud of the beauties of his cavern. this waving of torches, however, is exceedingly foolish, as their smoke quickly blackens stalactite, and in fact nothing but candles and magnesium wire should be carried for lighting purposes underground. the ice of the ice slope was hard, gray and opaque, quite different from that of the ice lake. the ice floor is formed of new ice, which is gradually refilling the place from which misura said the ice for buda-pest was taken out twenty-five years ago. to prove this assertion, he called my attention to the side of the lake directly opposite the ice slope. at that spot, under the limestone rubbish over which we came, there was an outcrop of perpendicular opaque ice about a meter high. misura said that the workmen began to cut at the ice slope and that they dug out a couple of meters in depth from the ice lake, until they had cut back to where the vertical outcrop was standing. the explanation seemed to be in accord with the facts, and if so, it would go to show that the ice in this cave is of slow formation and great permanency; as seems also proved by the steps on the ice wall, which--we were the first party in the cave in --had remained over from the preceding summer. misura told me he had never seen so much ice nor seen it so hard as during our visit, and he added that there was generally water on the ice lake, and he thought there would be some in two or three weeks more. the greatest quantity of ice in the upper cave was at the head of the ice-slope, and it would seem as though there must be cracks or fissures in the overhead rocks there, through which the water is supplied to feed the ice, not only that of the upper cave, but also the larger portion of that of the lower cave. the heavy winter air would naturally sink down into the entrance pit to the lower cavern, and some of it diverge into the beginning of the upper cavern, which at first is distinctly a down slope. a little beyond the portal at the head of the ice slope, the upper cave is either horizontal or in places slightly ascending. probably this prevents the cold air from entering further, and probably also, the heat of the earth neutralizes the cold air of winter beyond a definite spot. the air in the cave seemed absolutely still throughout; it was also extremely dry, undoubtedly because melting had not yet begun. the icicles evidently were formed by the slow drip freezing as it descended, and there were no perceptible cracks nor fissures in the rocks underneath them. the facts seem to me to prove that neither evaporation nor regelation can be the factors at work in making the ice and we may deduce an important rule therefrom. when a cave is dry, then the air is dry; when a cave is wet, then the atmosphere is damp. in other words, the state of dryness or dampness of glacière atmosphere depends on how much the ice is thawing and parting with its moisture. on our return to the base of the long staircase, and while we ascended it, we had an exquisite moonlight effect, much resembling the one at the schafloch. the frainer eisleithen. about two hours by rail, north of vienna, is the village of schoenwald, to which i journeyed on june the th, . at the railroad station there was a k. k. post omnibus in waiting, which, when it was packed with passengers and luggage, drove over to frain in an hour. the admirable road lies across a rolling plain, until it reaches the brink of the valley of the thaya, to which it descends in long alpine zigzags. on the bluff overlooking the opposite side of the river, there is a fine _schloss_. i secured the seat next to the driver and questioned him about the eisleithen. although he had driven on this road for five years, without visiting the eisleithen, yet he was positive that they were warm in winter, but cold in summer. he said more than once: _desto heisser der sommer, desto mehr das eis_, and in fact was an emphatic exponent of the notions generally held by peasants, which some _savants_ have adopted and tried to expound. at frain, i applied at the little hotel for a guide, and was entrusted to the care of the hotel boots. he was an intelligent, talkative youth, but he insisted also that "the hotter the summer, the more ice there is." however, he was polite, and made up for any shortcomings by always addressing me as _der gnädige herr_. the day was hot, so it took us three-quarters of an hour on foot, along the valley of the thaya, to reach the base of the bluff where the eisleithen are situated, at an altitude of about four hundred meters. the hillside is covered with patches of scrubby forest; and towards the summit, the entire mass of the hill is honey-combed with cracks and the rocks are much broken up. after about ten minutes' ascent up a little path, we came to small holes, from each of which a current of cool air poured out; these holes seemed fairly horizontal, and the temperatures were high enough to prove that there was no ice within. a little further on, we came to a hole or tiny cave among a pile of rocks, where there was a painted sign: _eisgrube_. it went down from the mouth, and i put my hand well in, but, beyond the length of my arm, i could neither see nor measure its shape or depth. the air felt cold, but was nowhere near freezing point; nor was it possible to determine whether there was a draught: it may or may not be a wind cave. not far from this, there were two gullies, each terminating in a small cave. the first gully was planned somewhat like certain traps for wild animals, that is, it narrowed gradually from the entrance, then became covered over; and then dwindled, after some four meters more, into a small descending hole, the end of which we could not reach. but we got in far enough, to come to large chunks or slabs of ice plastered about on the floor and sides. in this cave, which was sheltered against sun and wind, the air, as tested by the smoke of a cigar, was motionless, and the cave seemed unconnected with any air current. the second gully terminated in a somewhat larger cave, whose floor was well below the entrance; no ice was visible, however, although the air was still and the temperature low. this cave may or may not be a glacière; but surely it is not a cold current cave. these frainer eisleithen certainly offer an interesting field to anyone studying subterranean ice, from the fact that there are, in the same rocks, caves without apparent draughts in summer and containing ice, and caves with distinct draughts and no ice. the problem seems more intricate than is usually the case, but the solution is simply that the two classes of caves happen to be found together. the eishÖhle bei roth. the eifel is one of the bleakest districts of central europe, and to one entering it from the vineyards and the well-inhabited basin of the rhine, the contrast is impressive. the railroad rises gradually to a land of comparatively desert appearance, with rocks and trees on the heights and a sparse cultivation in the valleys. but, if the country is unattractive to the agriculturist, it is interesting to the geologist, on account of the great number of extinct volcanoes. almost in the centre of the eifel is the little town of gerollstein, famed for the _gerollsteiner sprudel_, which gives forth an effervescence undreamed of by anyone, who has not visited the birth place of some of these german table waters. about an hour's walk from gerollstein, on the side of a small hill, is situated the little eishöhle bei roth, named after a neighboring village. i went to this place, on the th of june, , with a young boy as guide. the cave is sheltered from the wind by a wood around it, among which are many large trees. it is at the base of a wall of piled up lava, or at least volcanic, rocks which form a sort of cauldron. the entrance is a small tunnel some five meters long, which goes straight down at an angle of about twenty-five degrees and then turns sharply to the left. at the turn, the cave may be perhaps one meter in height. we did not go beyond this spot, where the air was icy and the temperature sub-normal, as the tunnel was blocked up by a large boulder, which had evidently recently fallen from the rocks in front. there was no ice, as far as we went, and the boy said it began three or four meters further in. he told me that there was no ice in the cavern in winter, but admitted that he had not entered it at that season, so that was hearsay. he had heard also that the ice was sometimes taken out for sick people, but otherwise it was not used. it seemed to me that the conditions at roth show that the ice is formed by the cold of winter alone: the cave is well below the entrance; it is the lowest point of the surrounding cauldron of rocks and all the cold air naturally gravitates to it; it is sheltered by rocks and trees from wind or exposure to the rays of the sun; the tunnel faces nearly due north; and the water necessary to supply the ice, easily soaks between the lava blocks. the frauenmauerhÖhle. eisenerz, in eastern tyrol, is a picturesquely situated little town. it is at the bottom of a great valley, with mountains all around it. two of these are bare, gaunt limestone peaks, which are decidedly dolomitic in form and color. the sharpest of these is to the north. it is called the pfaffenstein and is the beginning of the range culminating in the frauenmauer. on a mountain to the east of the town, one sees the iron mines and works, whence the town takes its name "ironore," and whence quantities of iron are taken out every year. the mines are said to have been in operation for over a thousand years, since about a. d. . after the ore is taken from the mine and roughly prepared, it is run down in small cars through a covered way to the railroad station to be shipped; and at certain times there is a seemingly endless procession of these cars, each bearing, besides its load of ore, a miner, with clothes and person entirely begrimed to the yellow-brown color of the iron. as i walked out of the eisenerz railroad station, an old man in tyrolese costume asked me if i wanted a _träger_ and a guide, so, while he was carrying my valise to the hotel, we came to terms. he was one of the patented guides of the district and wore the large badge of the austrian guides. if the size of the badge made the guide, one should be safe with tyrolese, but for difficult excursions, it will not do to trust to a guide simply because he happens to be "patented"; that is, not if one values the safety of one's neck. next morning, july the th, , the old guide arrived betimes at the hotel and roused me by tapping on the wall below my window with his stick. we left at half past five o'clock. my companion, who should have known better, had not breakfasted, so by the time we reached the gsoll alp at a quarter-past seven, he was almost tired out. he wore the regulation black chamois knee breeches and a _gamsbart_ in his hat. he picked many flowers en route, ostensibly because they were pretty; but in reality, i think, because it gave him the opportunity to recover his wind. he told me he was sixty-three years old, and he certainly went up hill with some difficulty, and for the first time in my life, i fairly succeeded in showing a clean pair of heels to a _patentirter führer_ on a mountain side. at one place he found a large snail in the road. this he wrapped up in leaves and placed on a rock, and on our return he picked the leaves and snail up, and rammed the whole bundle into his pocket, informing me that it was excellent _arznei_, although he did not mention for what complaint. [illustration: the frauenmauer and the gsoll alp.] the road led up a wooded valley, in a sort of series of steps, bits of even ground interspersed by steeper ones, with the pfaffenstein-frauenmauer limestone peaks poking up their jagged summits on the left. the sky was clear at starting, except in the west, where clouds were forming, and these gradually overspread the whole sky, and finally turned to rain. just before we reached the gsoll alp, we went by a huge snow avalanche, which had fallen in february and torn a lane clear through the pines, bringing down numbers of them with it. the remains of the avalanche were banked up on the side of the road, which was cut out, and many of the pines were still piled on and in the snow. stopping ten minutes at the alp to allow my guide to recuperate on some bread and milk, we then crossed the pastures and pushed up a rather steep slope by a small path, at one place crossing the remains of another avalanche. we also came near having the attentions of a little bull which was screaming viciously. my guide said it was an extremely disagreeable beast, but he did not think it would attack him, as he always made a point of giving it bread when at the châlet. we reached the entrance of the cave at a quarter-past eight. a man and a boy from eisenerz, who had heard i was going to the cavern and who wished to profit by my guide, caught up with us here. they were much disappointed when i told them i should visit only the _eiskammer_. they went into the cave at the same time that we did, and eventually we left them pushing up one of the side chambers, with only one torch in their possession. my guide said he thought they were risking their lives, as there were many holes they might fall into, besides the probability of their finding themselves in total darkness. he told me that once, while in the cavern, he heard distant yells, and, going up the gallery whence they proceeded, found a man half dead, who said he had tried to come through the mountain by himself, had broken his lantern and had remained in the darkness an indefinite number of hours; a situation, the horror of which could not be realized by anyone who has not been underground without a light and felt the absolute blackness of a cavern. the frauenmauer is a limestone peak, meters in height, one of several forming a horseshoe round the gsoll alp. it presents on that side a sheer wall of rock, in which there are two holes close together, at an altitude of meters. these are the lower openings of the frauenmauerhöhle, of which the higher and biggest one is used for an entrance. they are some thirty or forty meters from the base of the rock wall, and a flight of wooden steps leads up to the entrance opening, which is narrow and high. at the top of the steps, we stood in the mouth of the cave; and, going in four or five meters, saw the other opening to the left, below us. about five meters further, there was one small lump of ice, as big as a pumpkin, lying on the ground, but this may have been carried there from within. the cavern went nearly straight for some twenty-five meters from the entrance, rising all the time gently. then came a steep little drop, of some four or five meters, in the rock floor, and here a small wooden staircase was placed. a gallery opened to the right and this was the cavern proper, which leads through the mountain. it rose considerably and contained no ice as far as we went, which was for some distance. the walking was bad, as the floor was covered with _geröll_, that is broken detritus. [illustration: in the frauenmauerhÖhle. from a photograph by a. kurka. ] returning and continuing towards the freezing chamber, the floor of the cavern began to rise once more, continuing for some forty-five meters to its highest point, which is lower, however, than the top of the entrance, an important fact to notice. for, although the floor of the cave is considerably higher, at a distance of seventy meters within, than the level of the bottom of the entrance; still, that highest spot is below the level of the top of the entrance. this fact, and also the size of the gallery, unquestionably explains why the cold air can get in as far as it does. at this highest spot we found a considerable mass of ice, a couple of cartloads in bulk perhaps, which the guide said would melt away later in the summer. this was, perhaps, the remains of a fallen stalactite. this mass of ice is an interesting point in connection with the frauenmauerhöhle, for it shows that ice in a cave sometimes forms, even if in small quantities, above the level of the base of the entrance. there seems no reason why it should not do so, provided there is the necessary water supply. such ice would, however, suffer more, as soon as the outside air was over freezing point, than would ice which was below the level of the entrance. it would probably disappear early in the year, unless the cave were in a latitude or at an altitude where snow remained in the open during most of the year. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the frauenmauerhöhle.] from this highest point, the cave turns somewhat to the left, and the floor begins to slope downward, sinking gradually to some six meters below the level of the entrance. ten meters or so from the highest point, we began to find icicles and fissure columns, and about twenty meters further, we reached an almost level ice floor, stretching across the entire width of the cave--some seven meters--and extending about fifty meters more to the end of the cave. in several places there was much frozen rime on the rock walls. there were also a number of columns and icicles, though none of any special beauty. i broke a piece off one of them, and the ice was transparent and free from prisms, showing that this column was probably of fairly recent origin. letting a bit melt in my mouth, the water tasted pure and sweet. [illustration: ice stalactite, frauenmauerhÖhle. from a photograph by a. kurka. ] in two places, there were _abgrunds_, that is, holes in the ice. one of these was a wide, deep hole on the left side of the cave, between the rock and the ice floor. the other was a great hole in the ice floor itself. as the edges of both holes sloped sharply, it was impossible to get near enough to look into either, but i threw in lumps of ice, and from the sound should judge that the holes were about three meters deep. the hole in the ice floor seemed to be cut by drip, and i think they both carried off the drainage. the ice floor was sloppy and thawing rapidly. at the furthest point we reached, within about fifteen meters from the end of the ice chamber, we were stopped by an accumulation of water lying on the ice. i poked into it with my ice axe and found it about twenty centimeters in depth. there was a crust of ice on top in places. the lake was cold, but i am sure the water was not freezing, as i held my hand in it at least a minute without pain. the guide assured me that in two weeks or so the lake would be completely frozen, provided there was some fine, warm weather; but, if there was rain, he said that it would not freeze. by this statement, he unintentionally explained, what he asserted was true, namely, that the cave froze harder in august than in july. the explanation of course is, that in fine, dry weather, water does not run into the cavern, and then the lake gradually drains off, leaving the ice floor free from water; and this the natives interpret to mean that the water has frozen up. at the edge of the lake there was a fissure in the left hand rock wall, in which my companion assured me that a column would shortly form. i absolutely doubt this statement, as, if it were true, it would be contrary to everything i have seen; still, i wish i could have returned in august, to verify the matter. i poked my torch up the fissure, also felt in with my hand. it was cold, and on the rocks inside there was much hoar frost, but i could neither see nor feel any ice mass, nor am i sure how far the fissure extended. the air was still, damp and over freezing point throughout the _eiskammer_, and all the signs showed that the cave was in a state of thaw. although the rocks are limestone and scarcely blackened by smoke anywhere, yet as our torches did not give much light, the color impression was black and gray, like the schafloch. at the hotel the landlord confirmed in every particular the story of the cave freezing hardest in august or september. he had never been there himself, but stated that everyone said the same thing, and that many people had "broken their heads" trying to account for it. at eight o'clock in the evening, my guide came to let me know that the man and boy, whom we left trying to penetrate the cave, had just turned up after making all their relatives extremely anxious. they were nearly lost, and had in general an extremely uncomfortable time. it is scarcely to be wondered at that accidents occur in caves and on mountains when people, with neither knowledge nor proper preparation, go wandering off by themselves into the unknown.[ ] [ ] on the evening of june th, , i met at hieflau three viennese tourists who had come that day through the frauenmauer. they found the lake on the ice floor of the _eiskammer_, just as i had in . they said also, moreover, that they found ice and icicles or ice columns in the main cave; unfortunately, they did not explain clearly in what part. the milchhÄuser of seelisberg. the summer of , will long be remembered by alpine climbers for the pitiless rain storm, which kept coming steadily down during the vacation months. it was in the midst of this that i arrived at trieb, on the lake of lucerne, on the th of august, to see whether i could find the windholes which were reported near seelisberg. at the landing place i found herr j. m. ziegler, the owner of the hotel bellevue at seelisberg, who promptly secured a nice, blond bearded young fellow, a relative of his and his _knecht_, as a guide. it was pouring when we started, a proceeding which kept on during our entire excursion. we tramped up a narrow road, paved with great stones in the old swiss fashion, and, as my guide truly said, awfully steep for horses. half an hour from the boat landing, took us to the first milkhouse, which belonged to herr ziegler. it was in a small patch of woods, and was placed against a cliff, where rocks had fallen down and formed a talus of broken detritus. the side walls of the house were built out from the cliff and roofed over, and the front wall had a doorway closed with a wooden door. at the back the detritus or _geröll_ was built into a vertical, unplastered wall between most of the interstices of which, cool air came forth. several of these interstices were fairly large holes of uncertain depth. it was a cool day and the air currents were only a little cooler than the temperature outside. another half an hour of uphill walking, partly on roads and partly over soaking meadows, took us to seelisberg, where we stopped at the house of the owner of the second milkhouse, to get the key. the owner could not go with us because he had damaged his foot, by wearing great wooden shoes or _sabots_ armed with enormous spikes, while cutting grass on steep slopes. he was hospitable enough: unlike his dog, who was exceedingly anxious to attack us. the owner said--in the intervals of the dog's howls--that ice formed during the winter in the rear wall of his milkhouse and remained until about june. the milkhouse was in a little patch of woods against a small cliff, at the bottom of which were broken rocks. we had some difficulty in getting in, working for at least ten minutes at the lock, while drops of rain-water would occasionally drip into our coat collars. just as i had given up hope, my companion succeeded in getting the key to turn. there were several pans, full of milk, placed to cool, and several barrels of potatoes; and, as at the first milkhouse, we found that the rear wall consisted simply of heaped up detritus built into a vertical position. gentle air currents flowed from several large holes and from the cracks between the stones. from here we went by a path through woods and over meadows down to the lake, coming to the shore some distance to the west of the steamboat landing. everything was soaking wet, and as we proceeded, i felt my clothes getting wetter and my shoes absorbing water like sponges until, when we came to an overflowing brook, wading through seemed rather pleasant. there is one advantage of getting thoroughly wet feet in the mountains: it makes crossing streams so much easier, as one does not delay, but simply steps right in. the lower milkhouse was on the shore of the lake, near the house of a fisherman, whose wife opened the door for us. there was some milk in pans and several barrels of wine; and on a board were a number of _ferras_ from the lake; the result of two days' catching in nets. this was the largest of the three milkhouses; although it did not have as many big holes in the rock wall as the others, but only the interstices between the blocks of rock, whence we could feel cool air flowing out. the woman said that the ice melted away by april or may, but that in winter the wine barrels were all covered with frost. she also said that the air coming from the clefts in summer was colder when the weather was warm, than when it was rainy. doubtless the temperature of the draughts remains the same during the summer, but the air feels cooler to the hand when the outside air is hot. a walk of another half hour, through more soaking wet grass, brought us back to the steamboat landing at trieb, where i touched my guide's heart with the gift of a five franc piece, and had a talk with herr ziegler. he said that there were a number of places in the neighborhood whence cold air came forth during the summer from cracks in the rocks: that there were also other milkhouses, notably one at tell's platte, on the lake: and that the milkhouses were not generally used in winter, when the doors were left open, to allow the cold air to penetrate as much as possible through the rocks behind. during the winter the draughts were reversed, and poured in instead of out of the openings, and herr ziegler thought that at that time the interior of the rock cracks became chilled, and that possibly ice formed in them which helped to chill the summer currents, when the draughts poured out from the holes. the glaciÈre de la genolliÈre. on tuesday, the th of august, , a cool and rainy day, i left geneva and went by train to nyon, where i found at the station a little victoria, in which i drove up to saint-cergues. the road lay across the plain to the base of the slopes of the jura, and then up these in long zigzags; it was admirably built and on the hill slopes passed the whole way through a beautiful thick forest, principally beeches and birches. at saint-cergues, i went to the pension capt, where the landlady soon found a guide in the shape of the gendarme of the district, a right good fellow, amy aimée turrian by name. he was in uniform, with an army revolver in a holster at his belt. we then drove about half an hour beyond saint-cergues, the road rising but little, and the thick forest giving place to a more open wood of evergreens, with patches of pasturage. as a forest sanitarium, saint-cergues seems unsurpassed in the whole of europe. the carriage turned up a little country road, which soon became too rough for driving, so we proceeded on foot for about another half hour, through pine woods and pastures, to the glacière. turrian enlivened the way with an account of his life as a gendarme, of the long solitary six hour patrols in the woods in winter, and of how he lay in ambush for poachers. he said he would not take long to fire on anyone resisting arrest, as that was _sérieux_. the glacière is in the middle of a pasture, with several pine trees overhanging it. it is surrounded by a wall, built to prevent the cows from falling in. there are two pits, side by side and about three meters apart: they are some thirteen meters in depth, with a width of five or six meters. they open into one another at the bottom; the rock separating them, forming a natural bridge overhead. one of the pits is vertical on all sides. the other is vertical all around, except on the side furthest away from the natural bridge. here the side of the pit is in the shape, so usual in glacières, of a steep slope. down this slope we descended. it was slippery and muddy, owing to the recent heavy rains, and my ice axe proved invaluable and probably saved me some unpleasant falls. under the bridge, the floor was covered with a mass of shattered limestone debris, among which there was neither ice nor snow; both of which my guide said he had found in abundance the preceding june. a little limestone cavern opened on one side below the bridge. a great, flat limestone slab formed a natural lintel, and, lighting our candles, we stooped down and passed under it into the cave, which was about the size of a room and in which we could just stand up. at the entrance and over most of the floor there was ice, in one place thirty or forty centimeters in depth, as i could see where a drip from the roof had cut a hole. there were no signs of icicles or columns. my guide said he had never penetrated into this chamber, which he thought, on his earlier visit, was blocked with ice and snow. i did not see any limestone stalactites anywhere, and i am inclined to think that the low temperatures of glacières have a tendency to prevent their formation. after our visit, we went to the châlet de la genollière close by, where there were some thirty cows and calves. the intelligent _berger_ or manager said that most of the ice from the glacière was used for butter making during the hot weather; and that between the inroads thus made upon it and from other causes, the ice disappeared every year before autumn, but that it formed afresh every winter; pretty good evidence to show that the ice in this cave has nothing to do with a glacial period. he also stated that when he first entered the inner chamber in the spring there were four ice columns there. the glacière de la genollière is a clear exemplification of the theory that the cold of winter is the sole cause for the ice. the whole glacière is rather small and is fairly well protected against wind. although snow cannot fall directly under the rock arch, yet i should imagine it drifts under, or after melting, runs in and refreezes. to the inner cave snow, as snow, could hardly reach; and the cavern is probably filled, like most cave glacières, from frozen drip. the inner cave is, therefore, a true cave glacière, while the outer pits and the bridge are something between a gorge and a cave. la genollière should, i think, be visited about the end of june, when the ice formations are certainly larger and more interesting than in august. the friedrichsteiner or gottscheer eishÖhle. a little to the east of, and in about the same latitude as trieste, is the small town of gottschee, now reached by a branch railroad from laibach. gottschee is a german settlement almost in the centre of the district known as the duchy of krain, austria, which is mainly inhabited in the north by slavonians and in the south by croatians. gottschee lies directly at the western base of the friedrichsteiner gebirge, one of whose peaks is the burgernock. on the eastern slopes of this mountain is situated the friedrichsteiner or gottscheer eishöhle, at an altitude of about nine hundred meters. on the th of june, , i left gottschee at half past six o'clock in the morning with stefan klenka, a nice little man. i had asked to have him come at six o'clock, but he did not turn up and i had to send for him. his excuse was, that tourists always ordered him for six o'clock, but when the time came, they were still in bed. he had taken a german officer and his wife to the cave the year before, and after keeping him waiting three hours, they started at nine o'clock. the result was that they did not get to the cave until two o'clock, and returned to gottschee just at nightfall. we reached the cave at half past eight o'clock. the steep and rough path went uphill through a fine forest, which my guide said was _urwald_, _i. e._, primeval forest; and there were certainly some big trees and many fallen ones, and much underbrush. he assured me that bears were still plentiful in the neighborhood, and that prince auersperg, who owns the shooting, does not allow them to be killed, preferring to pay for any damage they may cause to the peasants' fields or for any cattle they may dine on, rather than to have these interesting animals exterminated from his woods. he also said that there was a two meter snowfall in gottschee in winter: a sufficient quantity to account for the glacières. at one place on the road we stopped before a small crack in the rocks, and klenka dropped in some small stones, which we could hear strike two or three times a long distance below. there is surely an unexplored cavern at this spot. the friedrichsteiner eishöhle is a large pit cave, well lighted by daylight. it is sheltered from any winds by the great trees which grow all around it and even over the rock roof. a long, steep slope leads straight into the pit and from the top the ice floor is in full sight. on both sides of the slope the rocks are almost sheer. over the bottom of the slope the rock roof projects at a great height. the sides of the cave rise perpendicularly at least forty meters, and in fact, the cave suggests an unfinished tunnel set on end. some years ago, the _deutschen und oesterreichischen alpen verein_ built a wooden staircase, in a series of zigzags, on the slope. this staircase should have been cleared off earlier in the year, but, of course, the matter was neglected. down these steps we descended until they became covered with snow, and lower down with hard ice. all this was winter's snow which fell directly on to the slope and gradually melted and froze again, so this was really a miniature glacier. it was not subterranean ice at all. we cut down the snow, but had to stop when we came to the ice, as it would have involved a couple of hours at least of the hardest kind of step cutting; and this my guide did not care to undertake, especially as he was nearly killed on this slope the week before. he had reached, with some tourists from trieste, a place above that where we stopped, when he slipped and fell down the slope, shooting clear across the cave, where he remained until ropes were procured, and he was dragged out. he afterwards showed me the numerous cuts and bruises he had received on his perilous glissade. we had to stop also for another reason. i had unwisely brought as wrap, a thick overcoat reaching to the knees, and this was such an impediment on the icy staircase, that i took it off, and soon began to feel long shivers creeping down my spine. this question of extra clothing for glacière exploration is hard to arrange. one must guard against most trying changes of temperature. for, on entering a big glacière, the heat of a july day without, will, at a distance of only a few meters, give place to the cold of a january day within, and nothing could be better devised than a big glacière to lay the seeds of rheumatism. it is difficult to plan a garb suitable to meet all the varying conditions, but the dress must be cool and warm, and light enough to permit free motion. the clothes i have found most practical are a thin waistcoat and thick trousers, and two short sack coats, one of them a heavy winter one. the coats should button at the throat, and it is well to place straps round the bottom of the trousers. thick kid gloves should always be worn in caves, to save cutting the hands on rocks or ice in the darkness, and hobnails may prevent some unpleasant slips. from the point where we stopped, some ten meters away from the ice floor, the largest portion of the cave was visible. the finest object was a big ice curtain or _vorhang_, as my guide called it, which, from a height of five or six meters, flowed down from fissures to the ice floor, and which covered the rocks on the eastern side. under one point of this curtain, klenka said that there was a deep hole in the ice. smaller fissure columns also streamed from the rear wall to the ice floor. the ice floor itself was flat, of an ochre greenish tinge, and was covered with broken ice fragments. we could not see the western portion of the cavern, as the rocks jutted out in a sort of corner. klenka said that there were several small pyramids there; a large one which he spoke of as the _altar_; and a small ice slope, plastered on the side rocks. the sides of the cave were of a dark gray limestone rock, and from the top of the slope they assumed a decidedly bluish tone, and i am inclined to think that there was already--we were there from eight-thirty a. m. until ten a. m.--a faint mist in the cavern. this is the most interesting phenomenon connected with the friedrichsteiner eishöhle. the cavern faces due south, and about midday, in clear weather, the sun shines directly into it, causing a mist or cloud to form in the cave on warm days; a mute witness that evaporation is connected with the melting, not with the forming, of the ice. the air at every point seemed still. on my return to gottschee, i called on one of the professors of the k. k. gymnasium, and he told me many interesting facts about the surrounding country. among other things he said that no traces of a glacial period or indeed of glaciers were found in the krain; and as this district is particularly rich in glacières, this fact is a strong proof against the glacial period theory. he assured me also that many bears still existed in the neighborhood; that one family was known to inhabit the woods round the friedrichsteiner eishöhle, and that he had often seen bear tracks on his own shooting, some ten kilometers to the south. the suchenreuther eisloch. on the th of june, , i left gottschee at six-thirty a. m. in an _einspänner_, and drove thirteen kilometers southward, over a good road, albeit hilly in places, to mrauen, which we reached in about two hours. the weather was exceedingly hot. i took klenka along, as he spoke german, and he entertained me on the drive by telling me that there were many poisonous snakes in the country, of which the _kreuzotters_ or vipers were the worst, and that three or four persons were bitten every year. mrauen is in croatia, and i could see a slight difference in the people and their dress from those of gottschee. from mrauen, the landlord of the _gasthaus post_, josef sirar, led us to the grosses eisloch. this is sometimes spoken of as the eisloch bei skrill, but as it lies in a patch of woods below the village of suchenreuth, the suchenreuther eisloch seems the correct name. at least that was what sirar called it. it took us about an hour on foot from mrauen to get into the woods. on the way we met two guards in uniform, carrying männlicher carbines with fixed bayonets, and it was agreeable to feel that the strong arm of the austrian government extended over this semi-wild land. in the woods, following sirar's able guidance, we took a short cut--always a mistake--and were lost temporarily in a maze of bushes and brambles, in which i thought of the _kreuzotters_. after that, sirar at first could not find the cave and had to hunt around for it, while i sat on a stone and waited impatiently. at the cave a rather steep slope of wet mud, covered with dead leaves, led down through a rock arch. sirar had to cut several steps in the mud with his hatchet, or we should probably have sat down suddenly. the archway opened into a moderately large cavern, which was about twenty meters deep, almost round and some fifteen meters in diameter. the slope continued right across the cave, and on some parts of it were logs of wood and much débris. on the wall hung a few limestone stalactites. in the roof of the cave was a great hole, and under this was a big cone of old winter snow, which had become icy in its consistency, and on which there was much dirt and many leaves. the temperature in the cave was several degrees above freezing point, and there was no ice hanging anywhere. sirar said that when the weather got hotter, the ice would come; but as he said also, that he had been only once before in the cave, some ten years ago, his opinion was not worth much. both men said that the preceding winter was unusually warm. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the suchenreuther eisloch.] the nixloch. near hallthurm in bavaria, a railroad station between reichenhall and berchtesgaden, is a well known congeries of windholes, called the nixloch. i visited it on friday, july the d, , with a railroad employee, whom i found at the peasants' _gasthaus_. the nixloch is ten minutes distant in the forest, on the slopes of the untersberg. it is among a mass of big limestone blocks, and close by are the remains of the walls of an old castle or fortification. the nixloch descends from the entrance for about two meters nearly sheer, and there is just room to get through. as i sat within the outside edge of the mouth of the cave, the smoke of my cigar was slowly carried downward into it. dropping down through the hole, we found ourselves in a small cavern formed of rough limestone blocks overhead and underfoot. it is possible to go still further down and my companion said that formerly it was possible to go through the cave and come out at a lower opening; this exit, however, was destroyed when the railroad was built. the draught, as tested by the flame of a candle, was still drawing in some seven or eight meters from the entrance. there is a second cavity immediately next to the entrance, and at the bottom of these holes, the inward draught was so violent as to blow the candle out. the thermometer outside in the shade was °c.; inside the cave, where the draught was still perceptible, it was about °c. within the cave i noticed two large, dark brown spiders. on returning to the _gasthaus_, i had a talk with some peasants who were dining there, and they told me that it was warm in winter in the nixloch, and that ice never formed there. the dornburg. if one draws a line northeast from coblentz and another northwest from frankfort-on-the-main, they will intersect nearly at the dornburg. the railroad from frankfort goes, via limburg and hadamar, to frickhofen and wilsenroth, from either of which villages the ice formations of the dornburg are easily reached on foot in half an hour. i arrived at wilsenroth on the th of july, , and soon found an old forester, who said he had lived in the neighborhood for over fifty years, to show me the way. the dornburg is a low hill, perhaps a hundred meters high and a kilometer long. it is basaltic and covered with sparse woods. the forester said that on top were the remains of the foundations of an old castle, and that this was possibly the origin of the name dornburg. we circled round the eastern base of the hill for some ten minutes, when we came to a little depression, filled with basalt debris, among which were several small holes, out of which came currents of cool air. ten minutes further in the woods, we arrived at the _dornburg restauration_ and then almost immediately at the glacière. it is at the bottom of a talus of broken basaltic rocks and has been much affected by the agency of man. in it are two _eislöcher_ or _stollen_, as the forester called them. these are little artificial pits or cellars, dug into the talus. they are side by side, opening about southeast, and each is about one and a half meters wide, three meters long, and two meters high. the sides are built up with wooden posts and overhead is a thick roof of logs strewn with dirt. the day was cool and at the mouth of each _eisloch_, a faint outward current of air was discernible at nine-thirty a. m. i could not find any currents coming into the _eislöcher_. inside it was cold and damp, and evidently thawing. there was a good heap of ice in each _eisloch_; it was clear, and i could detect no trace of prisms. by much questioning, i dug out something of the history of these _stollen_ from the forester. formerly the ice was found at this spot, among the boulders at the base of the slope. but the people gradually took many of these basaltic blocks away, to break up for road making, and then the ice diminished. about , a brewery, since burnt, was built at the dornburg and the brewer had these _stollen_ built, a sort of semi-natural, semi-artificial ice house. every winter, the present owner of the _stollen_ throws a quantity of snow into them, and this helps materially in forming the mass of ice. just below the restaurant there is a spring, which was said to be extremely cold, but there was nothing icy nor apparently unusual about it. under the restaurant itself is an interesting cellar. it was closed by wooden doors. first there was a passage way which turned steadily to the right, and which we descended by some ten steps. this was about two meters wide and was full of beer bottles and vegetables. on the left of the passage was a large double chamber where meat is kept. at eleven-thirty a. m. a faint draught blew down the passage and into the hall, the outside door being then open. the double hall was perhaps six meters each way, and i could detect no air currents coming into it at any place, except from the passage way. both passage and halls were, as far as i could see, entirely built over with masonry. there was no ice and the temperature was some ° or ° above freezing point. the daughter of the proprietor of the restaurant said that ice began to form in the cellar in february and that it lasted generally until october; but that this year it was destroyed early because the masonry was repaired, although it was still possible to skate in the cellar as late as march. in the beginning of winter the cellar was warm, and as she expressed it, _der keller schwitzt dann_, which i suppose means that the walls are damp. she also said that it was a _naturlicher keller_, and i am inclined to think that it was a natural glacière, converted into a cellar. this visit to the dornburg gave me many new ideas about classifying glacières, especially in relation to the movements of air. i was long puzzled by the german terms, _eishöhlen_ and _windröhren_; and it suddenly struck me, at the dornburg, that this terminology is incorrect, when used as a classification of glacières. the presence or absence of strong, apparent draughts, cannot be considered as a test as to whether a place is or is not a glacière; the presence of ice, for at least part of the year, alone makes a glacière, and this it does whether there are or are not draughts. it seems to me more than ever clear, however, that it all depends on the movements of air, as to whether ice forms in a cave. if the movements of air take the cold air of winter into a cave, then and then only--provided there is also a water supply--do we have ice. i am now inclined to think that caves, as far as their temperatures are concerned, should be classified into caves containing ice, cold caves, ordinary normal caves, and hot caves, without reference to the movements of air. the glaciÈre de saint-georges. from rolle, on the north shore of the lake of geneva; an excellent carriage road leads in two hours and a half to saint-georges in the jura. at first the way goes steeply uphill and passes through many vineyards, and afterwards it crosses level fields to gimel, then rises through woods to saint-georges. on arriving there on the afternoon of august d, , i found the street filled with evergreens, and long benches and tables; the débris of a _fête de tir_, which had lasted for two days, with dancing and banquets and, i suspect, much _vin du pays_. when i got down stairs at six o'clock next morning, all the people of the inn were sound asleep recovering from the effects of the _fête_, and instead of their calling me, i had to call them. finally i succeeded in getting breakfast and then started in company with a first rate fellow, named aymon Émery. [illustration: la glaciÈre de saint-georges. from a photograph by e. truand. ] we walked up through woods, in about an hour and a half, to the glacière de saint-georges, which lies at an altitude of meters in the midst of the forest. there are two holes close together. one of these descends vertically and is partly roofed over with logs on which is rigged a pulley. Émery, who was the _entrepreneur_ of the glacière, which means that he attended to getting out the ice, told me that they pulled the ice up through this vertical hole, making a noose with a rope round each block. the other and shallower opening ended in a rock floor, which was reached by a short ladder. to the right was an arch, under which the rock terminated as a floor and descended vertically, forming the wall of the cave. on this wall two ladders, spliced at the end into one long ladder, were placed in a nearly vertical position. i tied the end of my rope round my waist, and got a workman, who had come to cut ice, to pay out the rope to me, while i went down. the cave is rather long and narrow, perhaps twenty-five meters by twelve meters, and the limestone roof forms an arched descending curve overhead. i could not see any limestone stalactites; neither were there any ice stalactites or stalagmites in the cave, but a good part of the wall, against which the long ladder was placed, was covered by an ice curtain. it was thin and had evidently been damaged by the ice cutters or i think it would have covered the entire lower portion of the wall. the base of the long ladder rested on an ice floor which filled the bottom of the cave, and which would probably have been level if it had not been cut out here and there in places, leaving many holes. a good many broken ice fragments lay on the floor and in some of the holes were pools of water. some of the floor ice was exceedingly prismatic in character, and i was able to flake it off or break it easily with my hands into prisms. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of the glacière de saint-georges.] under the vertical shaft, which is at one end of the cave, was a mass of winter's snow which had fallen through the opening. under this snow was a deep hole, which i believe was the drain hole of the glacière before the ice floor was cut away to a level below its mouth. into this hole i threw lumps of ice and heard them go bumping down for three or four seconds. the atmosphere was not uncomfortable, although the temperature was about ° c. the air did not feel damp, and seemed almost still, but standing on the ice floor nearly under the vertical hole, i found that the smoke from my cigar ascended rapidly, and it seemed as if there were a rising air current, which sucked up the smoke. saint-georges is a fine cavern and well worth visiting. Émery said that the ice was not cut out for eight years preceding the summer of , and that for several years it was not possible to go down at all, as there were no ladders, until he put in the two we utilized.[ ] all the natives of saint-georges believed that the ice was a summer formation and that it was warm in the cave in winter. [ ] in the illustration of the glacière de saint-georges, the opening to the left is the vertical pit, through which the ice is taken out: underneath it, is the heap of winter snow. the man in the upper part of the picture is standing on the rock shelf at the base of the upper ladder and at the top of the lower ladder. to the right of the lower ladder near the bottom, a bit of the ice curtain is visible. the glaciÈre du prÉ de saint-livres. from the glacière de saint-georges, Émery and i pushed on through the woods to the pré de saint-livres. in several places we came on the tracks of deer, and my guide told me he had killed eleven roe during the last hunting season. he said also that an attempt is being made to introduce the red deer into the jura, and that the experiment seemed to be meeting with success. we kept to the crest of the ridge along wood paths, and, as the day was fortunately cool and cloudy, we were able to walk fast and reached the pré de saint-livres in two hours. at a spot called la foiraudaz we met the workmen coming down with a cartload of ice, which they were taking to bière. some of this ice was extremely prismatic. the pré de saint-livres is a big mountain pasture or meadow, surrounded with hills covered with pine trees. in the middle of it is the châlet de saint-livres, round which numerous cows and calves were congregated and where a small shepherd gave us some milk. the châlet is not one of the old picturesque swiss châlets with great stones on the roof to keep it from being blown away by the wind, but a strongly built single storied stone structure, which looks extremely modern among the green hills. the glacière lies close to the châlet, on the southern side of the meadows, just on the edge of the woods, and is surrounded with trees. it is at an altitude of meters and faces nearly due north. to prevent the cattle from falling in, it is enclosed with a stone wall, except in front, where there is a fence formed of an abattis of pine trees. the cave belongs to the pit variety, and the pit is a big one. as you stand at the top, you can look down to the end of the glacière. the rocks are vertical all round the pit, and in front there is a small rock shelf, one-third of the way down, which divides the rock wall into two long drops. against each of these was a rickety ladder, so we fixed the end of my rope to the pine trees of the fence, and hung on to it while we climbed down. the base of the lower and longer ladder rested on a mass of snow. this was the beginning of a long snow slope which gradually turned to ice and filled the cave. the cave itself, measuring along the snow slope, is some forty meters long and some ten to fifteen meters wide, and is entirely lighted by daylight. the snow and ice slope fell in a series of small waves, and the upper portion was rather dirty. on the right hand the workmen had fixed a rope as a handrail, and all the way down had cut a staircase in the ice, so that the descent was not difficult. some of the ice was sloppy. the ice mass did not abut entirely against the end of the cave, but left an open space between the ice and the rock, some three or four meters wide and some four or five meters deep. here the workmen had been getting their ice, and had cut into the ice mass for several meters, forming a little tunnel. there were no ice cones nor stalactites, neither did i see any limestone stalactites. much of the ice was prismatic; in fact, together with that at saint-georges, it was the most strongly prismatic i have seen. i can perhaps best describe it, by saying that it was brittle in texture, as i could break up small lumps in my hands. there was more prismatic ice at saint-livres, however, than at saint-georges. the air in the cave was still and decidedly damp; and the temperature was several degrees above freezing point. the day, however, was almost windless, and i would not assert that movements of air, due to the wind, might not sometimes take place in the pit. the glacière du pré de saint-livres is one of those caves which may be looked on as a transitional form between gorges containing ice and caves containing ice. the winter snow falls into the mouth of the pit, and is the chief foundation of the ice mass. it would be interesting to make a series of observations in this cave to see whether there was anything like glacier motion. Émery, of his own accord, expressed the opinion that much of the ice here was due to the winter snows; in fact, he thought that it was all due to it, and that it gradually descended into the cave and turned, little by little, into ice. he told me that some years ago a cow was found by the workmen, frozen into the ice, at a depth of four meters; the flesh was perfectly preserved, and was eaten. i asked him if he had ever seen insects in either cave, and he said he had not. from the glacière we walked back to the village of saint-georges. on asking my guide how much i owed him, he said he received four francs for a _journée_, so i gave him six francs, and we parted the best of friends. glacier ice cave in the fee glacier. during a rather protracted stay at saas-fee in switzerland, i visited the glacier ice cave of the fee glacier on the th and th of august, , both cool and rainy days. it is about half an hour's walk from the hotel to the ice cave, which is in the snout of the fee glacier, below the eggfluh. a considerable stream issued from the cave. on nearing the opening, a strong cold air current poured out above the stream. at the front edge of the ice, the height of the ice roof in the centre was perhaps twelve meters and the width fifteen meters. around the edge, the roof formed an almost perfect curve. the ice walls contracted in a regular manner within, and the cave became narrower and lower, and suggested an enormous funnel cut in half, into which you looked from the larger end. the cave also grew gradually darker, and the darkness prevented seeing further than to a depth of some fifteen meters. in the ice walls, just inside the entrance, were several crevasses, of the ordinary blue-green color. they followed nearly the same curve as the roof, but did not go through to the outside. there were no icicles. the ice was faintly stratified in places, and at the outer edge was brittle. it did not break into the long narrow prisms of the ice at saint-georges and the pré de saint-livres, but rather into small lumps with facets, of all sorts of shapes. it was evidently unsafe to penetrate under the ice roof, for while i stood in front of the cave, a large lump broke off from the roof and fell with a clatter among a lot of other ice fragments already on the moraine floor. in two places there was a steady rain of drops from the roof, showing that the ice was melting. this is perhaps the glacier cave in switzerland which is easiest to visit, and my inspection intensified my belief in what i consider the correct explanation of some of the phenomena in glacières. the suggestion was that as soon as the temperature gets above freezing point in a glacier ice cave, the only process is that of destruction of the ice, which seems to be also the case with glacières. la grand cave de montarquis. my brother and i left cluses, in savoie, a railroad station on the line between geneva and chamonix, at two o'clock on the afternoon of the d of august, , and drove up in two hours and a half to pralong du reposoir, a distance of eleven kilometers. the road is a _route nationale_, fine and broad, with parapets in many places. after passing scionzier, it mounts gradually, passing through a tremendous wild gorge, cut by the waters and heavily clad with firs. we reached pralong at four-thirty, and stopped at a primitive inn, still in process of construction, and tenanted only by blue-bloused peasants, who, as it was sunday night, sat up late, drinking and making a heathenish noise they mistook for singing. i talked to some of these men, and they all insisted that there was no ice at the grand cave in winter, but that it came in summer. _plus il fait chaud, plus ça gêle_, they said. one man explained the formation of the ice in an original way, and with an intelligence far above that of the average peasant. he considered that it was due to air currents, and thought that in winter the snow stopped up the holes in the rocks, through which the currents came; but that when the snow melted, the draughts could work, and that then they formed the ice. the weather was abominable next morning, the clouds lying along and dripping into the valley; but the inn was so awful that we decided to try to reach the cave. we had a nice little blue-bloused peasant for a guide, sylvain jean cotterlaz by name. we went first for about an hour on foot towards le grand bornant on a fair road, to an alp called la salle. this was surrounded by a herd of cows, some of whom seemed interested in our party. it now began to rain fiercely, and except for my brother's perseverance, i should certainly have given in. a fair path led up steep grass slopes into the clouds covering the mont bargy. each of us had his umbrella raised, and the ascent was slippery and uninspiring. an hour took us to two deserted huts, the alpe montarquis, and half an hour beyond, we came to the caves; by which time we were thoroughly soaked. the caves are on mont bargy, at the base of a limestone precipice, which, i think, faces nearly north. there are three caves close together. the lowest, or petite cave de montarquis, cotterlaz said is also called la cave des faux-monayeurs; as according to a, probably untrue, tradition, it was once used by counterfeiters. above this is a small rock pocket, accessible down an easy slope. we went in and found that there was no ice and indeed scarcely any water in it. the grand--not grande--cave is a little higher up, and as we came to it, several sheep, which had taken refuge in the mouth from the storm, hastily skipped away, evidently distrusting our intentions. the altitude of the cave is said to be meters. the entrance must face about north east; it is elliptical in shape, about fifteen meters wide, and six meters high, and is badly sheltered against the wind. the cave is of moderate size, about sixty meters in length and forty-five meters in width, and the average height of the roof is not over four or five meters. a gentle slope leads downwards. many blocks of rock in the front part had bits of moss growing on them, and some of the mud there was of a dull purple color, as if some dark madder was mixed with it. there was a red streak in the right hand wall, probably caused by iron. i observed no limestone stalactites nor stalagmites in the cave, the main body of which was well lighted throughout by daylight. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of grand cave de montarquis.] the ice was in the shape of a nearly level floor, about twelve meters long and eight meters wide: the shape was irregular, and the ice so smooth that it was hard to stand up. the rocks in the rear overhung the ice floor at one spot; and here, there streamed from a fissure to the ice floor an ice column, some three meters high, whose base was fully two meters distant from the rock wall. near this column was a tiny ice cone, which evidently had been bigger. cotterlaz seemed impressed with the fact that there was only one column in the cave, as he said that in june, there would have been many columns and a larger and deeper ice floor. the ice was sloppy in places, with several small hollows cut by the drip and containing water. in one place there was a tiny runnel filled with water, but there was no current. there was a good deal of drip all through the cave, and in fact in one or two places we might have kept on holding up our umbrellas with advantage. i hacked at several pieces of ice, but none of it was prismatic. at the rear of the cave, the ice ran, in a tongue, up the entrance of an ascending fissure in the rocks. my brother cut here six or seven steps in the ice; and he found them difficult to make, as the ice was hard and thin, and not in a melting state. above the ice tongue we clambered up the rocks of the fissure some four or five meters further, finding there some lumps of ice which were not melting. at this spot we were almost in darkness. a lighted match burned steadily, so that there was evidently not much draught, but the smoke gradually descended, showing a slight downward current. this was the coldest, as well as the furthest point of the cave we could reach, and we there heard a tiny waterfall trickling within the fissure, although we could not see it. by this time we were all chilled to the bone, so, abandoning the idea of entering the petite cave, we retreated down the sopping wet, slippery grass slopes to pralong, and then immediately walked all the way to cluses to avoid taking cold. the grand cave was the most fatiguing trip i ever made after glacières, but the circumstances were rather unusual. the freezing well of owego. on thursday, june d, , i went to owego, in tioga county, new york. inquiries at the lehigh valley railroad station and at the chief hotel failed to elicit any information about a freezing well; and in fact, i soon found that the existence of such a thing was a blank to the rising generation. so i called on an old resident of owego, who told me that he knew of the well in question and that it was filled up with stones many years ago; but that he remembered that, when he was a boy, it used to freeze, and that it was spoken of as the deep well or freezing well. i then walked up to the site of the well, which is about one and a half kilometers to the northwest from the centre of owego and about one kilometer from the susquehanna river. it is directly in the middle of the highway, and nothing is now visible but a heap of stones. near by was the house of a mr. preston, who told me he was born in , and had lived all his life at this spot. he said that the well was about twenty-eight meters deep, and that it went first through a layer of sand and then through a layer of gravel. he had more than once been down the well and had seen the sides covered with ice. a bucket sent down for water would sometimes come up with ice on the sides. whether the water at the bottom ever froze, no one knew, for the ice caked and filled up the bore at about two-thirds of the way down and became so thick, that as mr. preston put it, "it was just like hammering on an anvil to try to break it." he also stated that another well was dug about one hundred meters further down the road, and that originally this sometimes had a little ice on the sides. of late years however, it was covered over with a wooden top and since then no ice was known to form. i could obtain no information about any other wells in the neighborhood ever showing similar peculiarities. the icy glen, near stockbridge. the icy glen is situated on bear mountain, about one kilometer from stockbridge, massachusetts. it is in the midst of fine woods and there are many big trees in it. the bottom of the glen is full of rocks and boulders, among which there is a rough path. i was told that ice remained over there much longer than anywhere else in the neighborhood, sometimes as late as may. on the d of july, , i not only found no traces of ice or snow, but the temperatures under the boulders showed nothing abnormal. to make up for this, however, there were legions of mosquitoes. freezing marble cave, near manchester. near manchester, vermont, there is a little cave,[ ] which is noteworthy, in that it is in a marble formation. it is known as skinner's cave, because it was owned for many years by mr. mark skinner. it lies in skinner's hollow, some five or six kilometers from the centre of manchester, at the base of the eastern slope of mount equinox, of the taghconic range of the green mountains. [ ] my attention was called to this cave, by messrs. john ritchie, jr., of boston, and byerly hart of philadelphia, who visited it some years ago. mr. ritchie's opinion is that it is simply a refrigerator. the cave is on the property of mr. n. m. canfield, who, on learning the object of my visit, on the th of july, , with true native american courtesy, walked up to it with me. the last two kilometers were over a rough logging road, which towards the end was steep and covered with many broken logs. i could not have found the cave alone, as it was so surrounded with bushes, that the entrance was invisible until we actually reached it. it is in a gorge of mount equinox, in the midst of a beautiful forest, which effectually cuts off any wind. the cave faces nearly north and can scarcely ever, if indeed at any time, be reached by the rays of the sun. the moment we got into the entrance, we found the chilly, damp, summer atmosphere of true glacière caves. the rocks were brown and mossy on the outside, but mr. canfield called my attention to the fact that they were marble, and on his knocking off a small piece, a section of pure white marble was exposed. in no other instance have i heard of a marble cave in connection with ice. there were scarcely any cracks or crevices in the rock. the cave goes down with a steep slope from the entrance, much in the shape of a tunnel, for some ten meters. the slope was covered with slippery mud and decayed leaves, and at the bottom expanded into a little chamber, in which lay a mass of wet, compact snow, some two by three meters. it was evident that the snow was simply drifted in during the winter, and was in too large a mass and too well protected to melt easily, and there could be no question but that this place was purely a refrigerator. the air was tranquil throughout and there were no draughts. on the same day, a good breeze was blowing in the manchester valley. the freezing well of brandon. the freezing well of brandon is situated on the western or southwestern outskirts of the village of brandon, vermont, not far from the railroad station. i visited it on the th of july, . the well was protected by a wooden cover. on raising this, a faint stream of cool air seemed to issue forth; but this was probably only imagination. the sides, as far down as one could see, were built in with rather large blocks of stone without cement. at the bottom water was visible and there were no signs of ice. we drew up some water in a bucket, and although it was cool there was nothing icy about it. i twice lowered a thermometer nearly to the water and each time after ten minutes it registered only ° c. there was certainly nothing abnormal in this temperature, in fact it was strictly normal and my thermometer showed conclusively by its actions that it could not have been near any ice mass. the people at the house, however, assured me that a month before there was ice in the well. afterwards i called on mr. c. o. luce, the owner of the well. he stated that it was eleven and a half meters deep to the bottom, that it was dug in , and that the ground through which it goes was found frozen at a depth of about four and a half meters. here there is a stratum of gravel and this is where the freezing occurs. mr. luce thought that the water was under the ice, that is, that the water came up from the bottom. he said also that the well usually froze solid in winter; but, that as this winter was an open one, there was less ice this year than usual. he thought that there was less ice anyway now than in former years, partly because of the cover which was put over the well, and which keeps out some of the cold; and partly because a neighboring gravel hillock, called the hogback, was a good deal cut away, and this in some way affects the supply of cold in the gravel. he added that the sandy soil round brandon does not as a rule freeze to a greater depth than two meters each winter. the house built beside the well was said to be comfortable in winter. there seems no doubt that this is another refrigerator. the cold water of the winter snows percolates into the gravel mass and refreezes, and, owing to the bad conductive quality of the material, the gravel remains frozen later than the soil elsewhere in the neighborhood. the fact that the well went through a frozen gravel stratum when dug, proves that it is not alone the air that sinks into the well itself, which makes the ice. the fact that the well freezes on the whole less than formerly, apparently partly owing to the digging up of some of the gravel close by, goes to prove the same thing. the fact that the well generally freezes solid every winter, shows that although some of the gravel mass possibly remains frozen all the time, much of the ice is renewed each year. this is especially important as proving that the ice found in gravel deposits is due to the cold of winter and not to a glacial period, although, of course, no one could say for how long a time the ice was forming and melting; and this process might date back to the time of the formation of the gravel mass. i could learn nothing of any similar place near brandon, except that mr. luce said that in an old abandoned silver mine in the neighborhood, he had once seen ice during hot weather. freezing talus on lower ausable pond. on the eastern side of lower ausable pond, essex county, new york, at the foot of mount sébille or colvin, there is a talus of great laurentian boulders, which fell from the mountain and lie piled up on the edge of the lake. among these boulders, at a distance of about five hundred meters from the southern end of the lake, there are spaces, several of which might be called caves, although they are really hollows between the boulders. on the th of july, , i visited this spot with mr. edward i. h. howell of philadelphia. from several of the rock cracks we found a draught of air flowing strongly out, as tested by the smoke of a cigar. the air was distinctly icy and there could be no question that there was a considerable quantity of ice among the rocks to produce the temperature. in three places we found masses of ice. one of these hollows was small, and the other two were much larger. one of the latter was almost round in shape, and perhaps three meters in diameter; with a little snow near the mouth and with plenty of ice at the bottom. the other was a long descending crack between two boulders which joined overhead, and with the bottom filled by a long, narrow slope of ice, perhaps seventy-five centimeters in width and six meters in length, set at an angle of about thirty-five degrees. the ice was hard and non-prismatic. the cold air affects a large area of land around the boulders. mr. howell called my attention to the flowers of the bunch-berry, which he said were at least two weeks behind those on the surrounding mountains. the same was true of _oxalis_, a pretty white flower, of which we found several beds in full bloom. mr. howell went to this talus, on the th of july previous, with mr. niles, president of the appalachian mountain club, on which occasion they found plenty of snow near the entrance of the larger hollow. mr. howell, indeed, has repeatedly visited this place, and always found ice, which must, therefore, be looked on as perennial. at all times also he has felt cold draughts flowing out; sometimes they were so strong as to lower the temperature over the lake to a distance of thirty meters or more: on hot days he has seen occasionally a misty cloud form on the lake in front of the boulders. mr. howell considers that the draughts so affect the surrounding air, that an artificial climate is produced, and it is owing to this that spring flowers bloom late in july and sometimes in august. another fact well known to him, is that in hot weather, the spot in front of the boulders is the best in the whole lake to catch trout, as they always congregate in the coldest water. the adirondack guides use these ice retaining hollows, which they call ice-caves, as refrigerators for their provisions and game in hot weather: they say that the ice is formed in winter and remains over during the summer, as it is so well sheltered. freezing talus of the giant of the valley. on the indications of mr. otis, chief guide of the adirondack reserve, i explored with mr. c. lamb, a guide from keene valley, the southern base of the giant of the valley mountain, essex county, new york, on the th of july, . a road runs from keene heights to port henry, through the gap between the south base of the giant of the valley and the north base of round mountain, and passes close to a small lake called chapel pond. some three hundred meters west of this lake, we left the road and struck north, across the brook, into the thick, mossy woods. after perhaps one hundred meters, we came to a talus of great boulders of laurentian rock, with the cliffs of the giant, whence the boulders had fallen, rising steeply above. we found ice under several of them, although never in any quantity. the thermometer, after an exposure of fifteen minutes in one of these little hollows, registered ° c., although not more than one meter from where the sunshine fell on the moss. in the shade of a tree one meter distant from the same hollow it registered ° c.; a difference of ° c. at a distance of only two meters. perhaps one kilometer east of chapel pond, there is a place, where the bases of the mountains come much nearer together, which bears the name of "the narrows." here we crossed the brook again, and, after some fifteen or twenty meters of scrambling through rough woods, reached once more the talus of the giant, composed of tremendous boulders. among these we found ice in many places and this time in large quantities. within one boulder cave we found an ice slab some four meters in length, by two meters in width, and one meter in thickness. this was pure, hard and non-prismatic ice, and was evidently not formed of compressed snow: in fact snow could not have drifted in under the boulder. we broke off a large piece of ice and took it back to saint hubert's inn, and it melted rather slowly. from the mouth of this cave an icy draught issued, and, as it struck the warmer air outside, a slight mist was formed. mr. lamb said that from the road itself he had sometimes seen mist rising from this talus. further explorations of the talus of the giant would probably reveal ice in many other places than those we examined.[ ] [ ] mr. e. i. h. howell examined several times, in , the talus of the giant of the valley. he found ice in many places; also cold air currents blowing out. at one spot, there is a spring which flows all through the summer, and the water is so cold, that its temperature is little above that of melting ice. mr. howell found, as at ausable pond, spring flowers growing in mid-summer among the rocks of the talus. mr. lamb told me of two other places in the adirondacks, where he found ice in similar boulder formations. one was in the talus of mount wallface in indian pass, between mounts wallface and mcintyre. the other was in the talus of mount mcintyre in avalanche pass, between mounts mcintyre and colden. at the latter place, he found it near the trail going round the lake in the pass. the ice gulch, randolph. the randolph ice gulch is situated in randolph township, new hampshire, about eight kilometers from randolph station, on the boston and maine railroad.[ ] i visited it on august th, . at the mount crescent house, i found a guide in the person of mr. charles e. lowe, jr. the excursion took us about six hours. the trail was a rough bush path, cut by the appalachian mountain club, and which had not been cleaned out that year. it was a cloudy but hot day and this, combined with the badness of the road, made the walk fatiguing. [ ] i first heard of the ice gulch from mr. john ritchie, jr., of boston. some years ago in the middle of july, he found ice plentiful in the second chamber. he thought the gulch only a refrigerator. the gulch lies between crescent and black mountains. the altitude of the upper end of the gulch is something over eight hundred meters, that of the lower end about six hundred meters. it is some fifteen hundred meters long, and averages perhaps one hundred meters in width at the top, and only a few meters at the bottom. the depth may be about seventy-five meters and the sides are steep, in some places sheer. the bottom is a mass of broken, fallen rocks, with a good many trees growing among them. there are several steps, so to speak, in the gulch, which are called chambers, although the term seems rather meaningless. promenading through the bottom of the gulch was fraught with difficulty, because the rocks were placed in most unsuitable positions for human progression, and my hands were certainly as useful to me as my feet in preserving equilibrium. we found ice in one or two places, but not in any great quantity. in one spot it was overlaid by water. my guide said that there was less ice than the year before. a large piece which we broke off, and which furnished us with a cooling morsel of frozen fluid, was full of air bubbles. it was not prismatic ice, and was certainly unusual in formation. it crunched up under the teeth and, although it did not look like solidified snow, yet, judging from its position among the boulders, it was doubtless formed from the melting and refreezing of snow.[ ] my guide said he had heard that fresh ice began to form sometimes in september. the gulch is well protected against wind, and i detected no draughts among the rocks. except in the immediate vicinity of the ice, the temperature was not abnormally low. [ ] on the th of february, , four days after the greatest snow storm in philadelphia in many years, i noticed that the snow on my roof solidified slowly into a mass of ice which contained a good many air-bubbles. it strikingly resembled the ice of the ice gulch, only that it was more solid and did not have more than half as many air-bubbles. on returning to the mount crescent house, i had a talk with mr. charles e. lowe, sr., who told me that alpine plants, like those which grow on mount washington and mount adams, are found in the gulch; but that they do not exist on the neighboring black and crescent mountains. he said also that ice was present in more than one place in king's ravine, and that it was always there. freezing boulder talus at rumney. about three kilometers south of rumney, new hampshire, there is a hill called bald mountain, which, about three hundred meters west of the carriage road from rumney to plymouth, descends as a big cliff, with an exposure facing nearly southeast. at the base of this cliff, there is a talus[ ] which i visited on the th of august, , with the sheriff of rumney, mr. learned. he said he had found plenty of ice there on the th of august, , but he doubted whether there would be any left this year, on account of the hot weather. effectively a careful hunt failed to reveal any ice, although the talus was just the kind of place where it might have been expected, as the boulders were piled one over the other and in one or two places there were considerable hollows. the temperatures were normal, and there were no draughts. the talus is exposed to the sun, and only moderately sheltered against wind by a scrub forest. but there can be no doubt, that ice lingers there long after it has disappeared from every other spot in the neighborhood, and it seems as if our not finding any, is another proof that it is the heat of summer which melts it away. [ ] mr. john ritchie, jr., wrote me about this place, where he had found ice plentiful some years ago in august, within two or three meters from the outside: he considered it only a refrigerator. ice formations and windholes at watertown. at watertown, new york, on the south side of the black river, in the town itself, are some natural cracks or crevices in the limestone rocks. they are only a short distance from the new york central railroad station. the cracks enter the northern side of the railroad embankment, pass under the railroad tracks, and extend some distance back. in front of them are four cellars, used for storing beer kegs. the lessor, mr. ehrlicher, obligingly had the cellars opened for me, on the th of september, . there was neither ice nor draughts in the cellars, and the temperature was normal. mr. ehrlicher said that in the spring there was ice in the cracks, but that it had all melted away as the result of the hot summer. [illustration: the bluff at decorah. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] about four kilometers west of watertown, on the south bank of the black river, is the picnic ground of glen park, which is reached by trolley. the manager of the restaurant walked around the park with me. in one spot is a hollow or glen at the base of a small, much cracked limestone cliff, which has a northern exposure. the manager said that snow and ice usually lies in this place until june, not only among the broken rocks, but even in the open. sometimes ice remains among the boulders all summer, but only near the front of the boulders, and by pushing in, one soon gets beyond it: we found none, a fact showing once more the effect of the unusually warm summer. on hot days, draughts issue from between the boulders, but as the day was cool, we did not notice any. the spot is well sheltered against the wind by a number of trees; and the shape of the hollow reminded me of the glen in front of the eishöhle bei roth. not one hundred meters from this hollow, is a little limestone cave, closed by a wooden door, which excludes any cold air in winter. the cave is lighted by electric lights, and is a narrow, crooked, descending fissure, a _ganghöhle_, where the marks of water action are plainly visible. at the bottom a little stream, evidently the active agent in forming the cave, ran through the fissured limestone. in the stream a large toad or frog was swimming about. there was nothing icy about the cave or the water, and the temperature was normal. ice was never known to form in the cave. these two places, so close together, are an interesting confirmation that it is only where the outside cold can get in, that we find subterranean ice. the freezing cave and freezing wells of decorah. near decorah, iowa, is a freezing cavern, which is more frequently referred to in cave literature than is generally the case. i visited it on friday, september the th, , with an old english resident of decorah, mr. w. d. selby-hill. the cave is situated about one kilometer to the northward of decorah, on the north bank of the upper iowa river, at the base of a bluff. it is some thirty to forty meters above the stream, and faces southward. it looks like a fault or fissure in the rocks, with the sides meeting a few meters overhead. it is a true cave, but probably in an early stage of formation, for there are no apparent traces of water action, nor any stalagmites nor stalactites. the absence of the latter may, however, be due to the fact that it is a periodic glacière. the rock is a white limestone, rich in fossils. the cave is some two to three meters in width and is rather winding, with a short arm or pocket branching out on the west side. the main cave runs back some thirty meters from the entrance. in one place it is necessary to stoop, to get past some overhanging rock slabs. by candle light, we went to the rear of the cave, and found it warm, dry, and free from ice. there were no draughts, possibly because the day was cool. [illustration: entrance of the cave of decorah. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] i looked in vain for _tubular fissures_, or indeed any fissures, through which _water might freeze by pressure in its descent_, as the believers in the capillary theory say it does. nothing of the kind existed, and i wrote in my note-book: "writing on the very spot about which this theory was started, i feel justified in asserting that the theory amounts to absolutely nothing and is entirely incorrect." mr. hill told me that there were two wells in the southern portion of decorah township, where ice was found in summer. i visited them both, but found no ice, and the temperatures normal. mr. hill said that one of the wells was dug about thirty years ago, and that the workman told him that the ground which he went through was frozen; and that at one place he struck an opening, from which came so strong a current of icy air, that it was hard to keep at work. i talked to several persons afterwards. _inter alia_, they told me that the bluff was a great place for rattlesnakes, sometimes big ones. they admitted also generally that they were puzzled about the formation of ice in the cave. some claimed that the ice formed in summer--the old story once more. i met, however, mr. alois f. kovarik of the decorah institute, who had made a series of regular observations for over a year and found that the ice begins to form about the end of march and beginning of april, and is at its maximum towards the beginning of june. mr. kovarik also told me, that he had found ice in one of the wells in the beginning of august. this was an especially satisfactory trip to me, for it did away, once for all, with any possible belief that there was any basis of fact for the capillary theory. it also seems to me important to find that the ice of these freezing wells melts in summer. for it shows that their ice is due to the same causes as those which form the ice in the cave, and is another proof against the validity of the glacial period theory. freezing rock talus on spruce creek. on spruce creek, huntingdon county, pennsylvania, about four kilometers north of the pennsylvania railroad depot, is an ice bearing talus, known locally as the ice holes or ice caves. i visited this spot, on october the th, , with mr. benner, of spruce creek. we walked up the pretty valley along the old pittsburgh turnpike, at one place finding some papaw trees, whose fruit had a horrible sickening taste; then we crossed spruce creek by a footbridge and followed the other bank back for some five hundred meters, until we were nearly opposite the old colerain forge, which is located in a piece of land called by the curious name of africa. about half way from the bridge we smelt a strange odor, which my companion thought came from a copperhead or rattlesnake: we did not investigate. [illustration: locus glacialis--cave of decorah. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] the freezing talus is situated at the foot of tussey mountain: it is big, and is composed of small sandstone (?) rock débris. the talus is at least thirty meters high and one hundred and twenty meters long. as i stood at the bottom, i was reminded strongly of the talus at the dornburg. at the base were a number of small pits, evidently dug by man. from the interstices between the rocks, icy cold draughts issued in some places, and there was no doubt that there was plenty of ice beneath the stones. in one place we thought we could see ice, and i poked at the white substance with my stick, but i am not positive that it was ice. all over the talus, the temperature was strikingly colder than a few meters away, and in the pits we could see our breaths distinctly. although i am not much of a botanist, yet it seemed to me that the flora immediately near the talus was somewhat different in character from that of the surrounding country. mr. benner told me that he saw, three or four weeks before, plenty of ice in the pits; that they were made by farmers who formerly came to this spot to get ice; and that parties occasionally picnic here in the summer and make ice cream. he stated also that he saw, some years ago, a small cave or hole containing ice near mapleton, pennsylvania, but that it was destroyed by quarrying the rock away. freezing gorge near ellenville. on sunday, october the th, , with a young man from ellenville, i visited the well known ellenville gorge, in the shawangunk range, ulster county, new york. we left the hotel at eight-forty a. m. and reached the gorge, known locally as the ice cave, at ten-five a. m. it is about four kilometers northeast from ellenville. the path rises steadily uphill and is of the roughest description; it is covered with loose stones, and looks as if it might become the bed of a mountain brook in wet weather. i call this place a gorge, instead of a cave, because it is uncovered at the top, but probably originally it was covered. it is shaped like a pit cave minus a roof, and it reminded me of the friedrichsteiner eishöhle, and the glacières de saint-georges and du pré de saint-livres. it is entered by a long slope from the western end, the gorge turning northward further back. i estimated its width, at the bottom at some five to seven meters, at the top at some three to four meters; its length at some thirty meters and the deepest point we reached, at some twenty meters below the surface. these are guesses, however. in one place, a great rock slab overhangs the gorge. at nearly the lowest point of the rock floor, there is a hole which extends perpendicularly downwards some five or ten meters more; this opening is partly blocked up with fallen masses of rock which would make a further descent perilous. the north end of the gorge is also filled up with a mass of great broken rocks; in fact, the whole place is out of repair, as the rocks are cracked and creviced on both sides to a great extent. the rock is friable and seems to be all breaking up, or rather down, and i think there is some danger from falling stones, although i did not see any fall. there is a good deal of moss on the sides of the gorge, and on some ledges small evergreens are growing. the gorge is sheltered thoroughly from winds by its formation and position, and somewhat by the scrub forest surrounding it. there are several long, deep crevices a few meters further up the mountain side, and i think one of them is an extension of the main gorge. [illustration: gorge at ellenville. from a photograph by mr. davis. ] we found no ice. it generally lasts till about the beginning of september; and professor angelo heilprin, and miss julia l. lewis, of philadelphia, have found plenty of it in july and august. but the ice had evidently now been gone for some time, for the temperature at the bottom of the gorge was about ° c. at ten-thirty a. m. this was but little colder than the temperature v outside, which at ten-fifteen a. m. was ° c. on returning to ellenville, i learnt that there was another somewhat similar smaller gorge, some eight kilometers away, at a place called sam's point. this, however, is said to retain only snow, while in the ellenville gorge much ice is sometimes formed, and icicles a couple of meters long are said to hang on the sides of the cliffs. the proprietor of the hotel told me he had heard of a cave which contained ice not far from albany, at a place called carlisle, on the delaware and hudson railroad. freezing cave and windholes near farrandsville. i arrived at farrandsville, clinton county, pennsylvania, early on tuesday morning, october the th, , and found a boy, who worked in a brick mill, as guide to the caves.[ ] after emptying a small, flat bottomed boat of the water of which it was half full, we rowed across the susquehanna river; then we walked up the road, along the river bank, for a couple of hundred meters, and struck up the so-called path to the caves. although the whole of the mountain side was at the disposal of the road maker, no better plan seems to have suggested itself than to make the track go straight up. this saved making zigzags, yet the result is that the path is steep, and as it is rocky and slippery, it is hard travelling without bootnails or alpenstock. [ ] i learned of this cave from mr. eugene f. mccabe, of renovo, pennsylvania. mr. mccabe took out large pieces of ice from it in the month of august. on december d, , he found no ice inside the cave, but a hoar frost covered the rocks; the temperature outside was - . °; inside - . °: the day was clear and there was no breeze; several matches lighted in the cave were almost instantly blown out by a current of air coming from crevices in the rocks. mr. ira c. chatham, postmaster at farrandsville, wrote to me on the th of october, , as follows: "your paper on ice caves [journal of the franklin institute, march, ] at pp. and describes the farrandsville cave as near as is possible, as the ice forms in the spring from the snow melting and dropping through the rocks into the cave, and the rocks face directly north as stated." as we went up, i noticed, in one or two places, cold draughts issuing from crevices in the rocks. we soon came to a hollow under a rock, where there were a number of cracks and crevices: the boy spoke of it as the lower cave. it is some sixty meters above the susquehanna river and cold draughts flowed from the cracks, although we saw no ice. the cave was about twenty meters higher up. one could crawl into it for a couple of meters, and all round it the rocks are somewhat creviced; in fact, i think there are a good many cracks in the entire hill. there was no ice in sight in this hole, but a strong, cold draught poured from it. after an exposure of fifteen minutes the thermometer registered ° c.; while outside, in the shade, it stood at ° c. this decidedly sub-normal temperature proved unmistakably, in my opinion, the presence of ice a little further than we could see in. both holes face about north and are sheltered, by their position and by the sparse forest which covers the ridge, against all winds except those from the north. i talked to the postmaster and the railroad agent at farrandsville on my return, and they stated that there was no ice in the hole in winter, but that it formed about april and remained over until towards september, showing that the cave is a normal glacière on a small scale. glaciÈres near summit. in the search for coal, the mountains of the appalachian chain between the little town of summit, and the neighboring village of coaldale, carbon county, pennsylvania, were mined and tunneled in every direction. owing to the caving in of some of these mines, depressions formed in certain places along the ridge in the upper surface of the ground, and in two of these hollows natural refrigerators occur. these were brought to my notice by mr. c. j. nicholson of philadelphia, and i visited them on may the th, , in company with two coal miners of summit. starting from summit, we passed across some rough ground under which there was a mine on fire; and the miners showed me the tops of two pipes sticking out of the ground, from which issued a smoke or steam, too hot to hold the hand in more than a few seconds. going beyond through brushwood, for a couple of hundred meters, we came to the first glacière, which was also the nearest to summit. it faced almost due north and looked as if it was formerly the entrance to a mine. it was fairly big, and my companions assured me that, until within about a year, ice was always found in it. recently, however, part, of the rock roof fell in, blocking up the entrance with a mass of débris and making it unsafe to venture in. formerly parties of tourists constantly visited this place, after coming over the switchback, but this is no longer done and there has been some talk of cleaning away the broken rocks and making the glacière accessible. the men also said that occasionally people living in the neighborhood had dug out the ice for their own use. the other glacière was a short distance further, in the direction of coaldale. it is in a pit, which may have been the mouth of a disused shaft or only a depression resulting from a cave-in. a scrubby forest, which surrounds the hollow, acts as a windbrake. a rather steep slope leads down into the pit, and at the end passes under the wall of rock of the opposite side for a short distance, forming a small cave, which faces almost due south and whose floor is choked up with broken rock fragments. at the bottom of the slope we found some snow, and among the boulders a good deal of snow-ice as well as several long icicles hanging from the rocks. all the ice and snow lay on the north side of the rocks, or underneath them, so that it was in shady places where the sun could not reach it. the temperature was not at all uncomfortable, although somewhat cool and damp. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of pit near summit.] there was nothing in either glacière, to show that the ice was formed from any other cause than the drifting in, and melting and refreezing of the winter's snow; and my impression is that the ice in the second glacière could not last through the summer. the snow hole near williamstown. the snow hole near williamstown (massachusetts) is situated near the northern end of the petersburgh mountain of the taghconic range; it is slightly below the watershed on the williamstown side, at an altitude of about seven hundred meters. the snow hole is in the state of new york, near the boundary between new york and massachusetts. it is a long two hours' drive from williamstown, the last four kilometers or so, over an exceedingly steep and rough road, which is, in fact, nothing but an old logging road, and the worst i ever drove over except the road to démenyfálva. i visited the snow hole with my brother on friday, september the th, . it is surrounded by a dense forest, mainly of recent growth, which thoroughly shelters it from all winds. in shape and appearance it resembles the gorge at ellenville, except that it is smaller: its location on the ridge is not unlike that of the friedrichsteiner eishöhle. it is a narrow crack--or cave minus a roof--about fifteen meters long, six to seven meters deep and from two to five meters wide. it faces nearly north, and the bottom is in perpetual shadow. from the northern end, a gentle slope leads to the rear. the slope was a good deal blocked up by a big tree with large branches, which had fallen directly into the fissure. there was some moss or greenish mould on the rocks in places, and at the rear end of the slope there were some fissures in the rocks, into which one might perhaps have crawled a little farther, which formed a tiny cave. there was also a similar incipient cave at the northern end. i could not detect any draughts issuing from these rock fissures, and the air throughout was still, although the wind was blowing hard on the ridge. the rocks were moist in places and the air damp, but there was neither snow nor ice and the temperatures were normal. the driver told me that he had found plenty of snow in the base of the gorge some years ago in july; and he said that he had always heard that snow was found in the snow hole all the year round. all the conditions of the place, the shape of the fissure, and its sheltered northern exposition, are favorable to the retention of ice and snow, and it is not surprising that they remain over every spring. icy gulf near great barrington. the icy gulf or icy glen is some eight kilometers from great barrington, massachusetts. i have not been in it, but was told in october, , by the farmers living near by, that after snowy winters, ice remains over through july. it must be similar to the icy glen at stockbridge. the ice bed of wallingford. the ice bed of wallingford is situated about three kilometers to the east of wallingford, vermont. a drive of half an hour, over the mount holly and hearburrow roads, takes the visitor to the entrance of a rough wood path, which, at a distance of three or four hundred meters, leads to the ice bed. this is a huge talus, at the base of the white rock mountain, whose cliffs rise steeply overhead for some three or four hundred meters. the talus, which was doubtless formed by a great slide at some distant date, consists of granite boulders, some of which are big ones. the ice-bearing portion may be some thirty or forty meters high vertically. it lies in a sort of gully or rock basin, and at the top is about thirty meters broad, tapering to a point at the bottom. the talus faces southward, and during a good part of the day the sun shines full upon it. a thin forest fringes the sides and grows round the bottom, but this can afford but little protection from the winds, especially to those from the south. i visited this place on the th of october, . there was a distinct drop in temperature as we neared the base of the talus, and a cool air drew gently down over the rocks. i think slight draughts issued from some of the crevices; but of this i am not sure. the temperature was sub-normal, about °, but hardly low enough to prove the presence of ice, although we could see our breaths distinctly. we looked carefully under a number of the boulders, but neither ice nor snow was visible. i was assured that ice was abundant there in the past july and august, and i should think it had melted away only shortly before my visit. my impression is, that this is a periodic glacière. caves near williamstown. on the eastern slope of the petersburgh mountain of the taghconic range in massachusetts, at a good deal lower altitude than the williamstown snow hole and about southeast of it are some caverns, which are but little known. a five or six kilometer drive from williamstown takes the visitor to the base of the mountain, whence a rather steep ascent of about a kilometer and a half brings him to the caves, which are in the midst of a dense, scrub forest. the caves were first entered, and possibly discovered, by mr. w. f. williams, of williamstown, when a boy. since then, he has visited them many times and explored them a good deal. they do not appear to have any name as yet, and it would seem only fitting to christen them after their explorer: the williams caves. there are several unimportant holes in the immediate neighborhood of the two main caves. the latter lie side by side. the rock formation is the same as that of the snow hole, a dark gray slate with a few veins of quartz, and they are due also evidently to the same geological causes. it would seem as though the mountain had tended to open or crack at these spots and fallen apart. this seems probable, because wherever there is a projection on one side of the cracks, there is a corresponding hollow in the opposite side. after this, water action has come, and erosion and corrosion have worn out and carried away earthy matter, and slowly deepened and widened the fissures. the remarkable point in connection with the main caves, however, is that one is a normal cave and the other a periodic glacière. i went with mr. williams to these caves on the th of october, , and partially explored the glacière. on the way up, just as we left the carriage road, a fine, three-year-old buck, in his winter coat, came bounding out of the forest; on seeing us he stopped, and after taking a good look, quietly trotted off into the bushes. the glacière is rather peculiar in shape and may be described as two storied. a long slope, set at an angle of some forty degrees, and covered with mud and dead leaves, leads down into the crack, which is from one to three meters in width. the first half of the slope is open to the sky; the last half is covered by the rock roof, and is a real cave. in this the floor is horizontal, the place forming a little chamber in which the daylight has almost vanished. at the exact summit of the slope a big tree grew most conveniently; and we tied to this one end of a twenty-meter austrian alpine club rope, and by holding fast to it, and kneeling or sitting down in the mud in two or three places, the descent was easy enough. it was rather difficult to scramble up the slope again, however. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of freezing cave near williamstown.] in the floor of the little chamber there are two holes, and, stepping over these, we stood at the rear end, about eighteen meters distant from the beginning of the slope. my companion now set some birchbark on fire and dropped it into the innermost hole, and we laid down in turn, flat on the rock floor, and craned our necks through the hole. mr. williams thought he could see ice below us. i looked down after him and found that i was looking into a lower chamber whose sides were invisible. the floor was some three meters below vertically, and on this the birchbark was burning brightly. i think i saw some ice, but i could not be sure, as there was too much smoke to see distinctly. my companion offered to go down through the hole and get some ice; a proposition i promptly vetoed, as had anything gone wrong, i could not possibly have given him any assistance, as there was no extra rope. mr. williams told me that he went down several times before in july or august, and always found ice on the slanting floor. he said he did not know how far this lower chamber extended, nor the length of the ice floor. one thing which makes me hesitate to think that we saw ice was, that the temperature of the chamber where we were was not at all icy; but probably--i had forgotten my thermometer--nearly normal. when we stood once more by the tree at the top of the slope, the mouth of another cave was visible about two meters below us. mr. williams said it had never looked more than a little crack before, and that the opening was much bigger than at his last visit. it was directly under the slope by which we descended and it vanished into darkness. its direction led straight towards the lower chamber, and it almost surely leads to it. it seems thus that there are two hollows, one directly above the other; and that the lower one is a glacière, while the upper one is not. the cold air of winter would naturally sink into the lower chamber, and the spring thaws would furnish plenty of drip, so that this place seems to answer every requirement of a cave glacière. but the most interesting fact about these caves is that, while the shallower one is a glacière, the bigger and deeper one is not. this is situated about ten meters north of the glacière and the direction of the entrance is about the same. mr. williams has found snow and ice in may in the entrance pit as far as the daylight goes, but none beyond. i am inclined to think that the explanation of this is the fact that the cave is a _ganghöhle_ or tunnel cave. mr. williams described it as a narrow passage with chambers, and at least a hundred meters long, and fifty meters in depth below the surface. the cold air sinks in a certain distance, but as the passage is narrow and long, and too winding for any strong draughts, the cold air which enters is soon neutralized by the supply of warmer air within and by contact with the rocks. i cannot help thinking that it is by some such explanation that we must hope to solve the problem of why certain caves are glacières and others in the immediate neighborhood normal caves; and the caves near williamstown are exceptional in presenting the problem so patently. part ii. the causes of subterranean ice. the causes of subterranean ice. i. _terminology._--ice enduring the entire year is found, in temperate latitudes, in a variety of forms and in several different kinds of places. in some cases it is entirely above the surface of the earth; in others it is entirely beneath the surface of the earth. these are the extremes, and between them there are certain intermediate forms. the perennial ice above ground of temperate regions has gradually become known in english by the french word _glacier_, but strange to say, there is no term in use in english which accurately describes the perennial ice formations which are partially or completely underground. thus the term "ice cave" is applied to a rock cavern containing ice, and the term "ice gorge" to a rock gorge containing ice. both terms are misleading, because the character of the contents is mentioned before the nature of the geological formation. we say correctly enough "limestone cave" or "lava cave" and, in my opinion, we should apply the term "ice cave" in a similar manner to the hollows in the ice at the lower end of glaciers, whence the glacier waters make their exit. these are really "ice caves," that is caves with sides and roof made of ice. another trouble of the term "ice cave," as applied to rock formations containing ice, is that it is not generic: not only is it incorrect, but also it is not comprehensive. it does not apply to mines, tunnels, wells, gullies, boulder taluses, or underground ice sheets. if "ice cave" is used, except in its true sense of glacier ice cave, it seems at least as though it should be so only for real caves which retain ice, as opposed to taluses and wells. curiously enough, the germans are just as inaccurate as ourselves, for their terms _eishöhle_ and _eisloch_ are absolute translations of our "ice cave" and "ice hole." indeed, there is no doubt that some of the incorrect notions about subterranean ice formations, are due to the inaccuracy of the terminology. the only language, so far as i know, which has a correct and really generic term for subterranean ice formations, is the french in its word _glacière_. the french and swiss say _glacières naturelles_ of ice deposits formed naturally underground; and _glacières artificielles_ of ice houses. _glacière naturelle_ is comprehensive and accurate. it covers all the rock formations and suggests also the mode of formation of the ice. it likewise implies the strong resemblance between natural ice deposits and artificial ice houses. it might be well, therefore, if the french term _glacière_ were adopted as a generic term for all underground ice formations. as, however, there is little likelihood of this happening, the question arises as to the best english equivalent or equivalents. these seem to be "freezing cavern, freezing talus," etc., "natural refrigerator" or "subterranean ice formation." "natural refrigerator" and "subterranean ice formation" are more generic than "freezing cavern, freezing well," etc.; but the latter have the advantage of suggesting immediately that reference is made to the hollows of the earth which at times contain ice; and, therefore, they are the best terms, perhaps, which can be chosen in english. another point in the terminology of this subject has reference to subterranean hollows where draughts issue or enter. such hollows are found in all parts of the world and are known usually in english as "blowing caves" or "cold current caves." the germans speak of them as _windröhren_ or _windlöcher_. in my first paper about caves,[ ] i used the word "windhole" which i translated from the german. the term "windhole" seems to me preferable to "blowing cave" or "cold current cave" in that it is more generic. it applies to taluses or boulder heaps, or in fact, to any hollows where draughts issue or enter, whether these hollows are genuine caverns or not. [ ] _ice caves and the causes of subterranean ice_, november , and march . it is necessary also to explain here that "glacière" and "windhole" are not synonymous terms. it must be understood that a glacière or natural refrigerator is a place where ice forms and endures in a subterranean or semi-subterranean situation; and that _the presence of ice_ is the criterion of whether a place is or is not a glacière. likewise it must be understood that a windhole or blowing cave is an underground hollow with at least two openings, and in which distinct draughts occur; and that the _presence of draughts_ is necessary to constitute a place a windhole or blowing cave. a freezing cavern may or may not be a windhole, and a windhole may or may not be a freezing cavern. _temperatures._--the phenomena of glacières are so closely connected with temperatures that it seems necessary at this point to mention some general facts in connection with subterranean temperatures, even if these still form a subject of some uncertainty, and one about which further observation is desirable. subterranean temperatures may be grouped under three heads: , ordinary or normal temperatures; , temperatures above the normal or super-normal temperatures; , temperatures below the normal or sub-normal temperatures. . in the great majority of caves, cellars and subterranean places of all descriptions, the temperature of the air is about the same, all the year round, as that of the ground. the frost of winter and the heat of summer penetrate the earth for some trivial distance, a few meters perhaps, and lower or raise the temperature of the ground temporarily. below this there is a stratum where the temperature is found to vary but little the entire year and which, in a majority of cases, approximates the mean annual temperature of the district. below this invariable stratum, the temperature generally rises slowly, not at exactly the same rate everywhere, but in a regular increase. this increase of temperature averages ° c. for every meters. as most caves and cellars are of small depth and as they take their temperatures from that of the ground, it follows that as a rule their temperatures are moderate and pleasant. and as the air of the majority of caves and subterranean hollows is about the same as the temperature of the surrounding rock, it is correct to call subterranean air temperatures closely approximating the ordinary temperature of the ground, ordinary or normal temperatures. as already stated, with an increase of depth, there is, in almost all cases, a regular increase of temperature. for this reason, mines, which are much the deepest hollows reached by man in the surface of the earth, are, as a rule, warmer in the lower levels: if deep, they are also hot. and this is so generally the case that warmer temperatures at the bottom of mines may be considered as normal. . in a few hollows close to the surface, there are temperatures much above the normal temperature of the ground. such places are rare and abnormal.[ ] the heat is generally due to the presence of hot springs or to some volcanic action in the immediate neighborhood. in the case of one cave close to the surface, the heat is due to some limekilns which are situated immediately overhead.[ ] where these warm hollows are genuine caves it seems proper to call them "hot caves." [ ] kraus. _höhlenkunde_, page . [ ] grotte du jaur. _les abimes_, page . . in a number of places, there are abnormally low temperatures underground either for the whole or only for part of the year. although commoner than hot caves, yet the underground places with low temperatures are also rare and abnormal. they may be divided into two groups: , those where the temperatures are lower than the normal, without becoming low enough for ice to form; and , those where the temperature sinks so low, that ice forms. it is difficult to make definite divisions among the various forms of natural refrigerators, but it is correct, probably, to classify them under five heads, in accordance with the different kinds of formations of the hollows in the rocks: . gullies, gorges, and troughs where ice and snow remain. . soil or rocks overlaying ice sheets. . taluses and boulder heaps retaining ice. . wells, mines and tunnels in which ice sometimes forms. . caves with abnormally low temperatures, and often containing ice. . _gorges and troughs._--gullies, gorges and basins which retain snow and ice are fairly numerous in mountain districts. they are generally ravines, or rock fissures, or hollows, in positions below the snow line where snow and ice are sufficiently protected, from sun and wind, to remain long after snow in the surrounding open country, at the same altitude, has melted away. some of these gorges are small, some big. as a rule, they are deep and narrow. in north-eastern siberia, a form of permanent surface ice is found, which the tungusses speak of as _tarinnen_, which means "ice troughs" or "ice valleys."[ ] these _tarinnen_ are broad valleys, with either a horizontal floor or one sloping gently in the form of a trough, over which the ice is spread in the form of a sheet. the tungusses assert that the ice in some of these troughs never wholly melts away, although it lessens in quantity from the beginning of may till the end of august, after which it once more increases. [ ] _bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg._ . vol. xi, pages - . _subterranean ice sheets._--in several places in different parts of the world there are underground ice sheets which extend over large spaces; they are common under the tundras of alaska; and there are fine examples on kotzebue sound,[ ] on the kowak river,[ ] and along the yukon river.[ ] the "ice spring" in oregon seems to be a formation of the same kind. several examples of these subterranean ice sheets are reported also from different parts of the russian empire. [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . a somewhat different kind of ice sheet was observed on mount etna. sir charles lyell[ ] speaks of it as a "glacier preserved by a covering of lava." he says signor mario gemmellaro satisfied himself that nothing but a flowing of lava over snow could account for the position of the glacier. ice sheets somewhat similar to these are reported from tierra del fuego,[ ] and probably also such sheets occur in iceland; and enormous heaps of ice covered with sand are found on mount chimborazo.[ ] on the northwestern coast of greenland, glaciers, whose flow has stopped, were observed buried under an accumulation of moss and grass.[ ] [ ] _principles of geology_, th edition, chap. xxvi. [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . [ ] see part iii: page . _taluses and boulder heaps._--taluses and broken debris, and in general boulder heaps of all sorts, have interstices and openings between the boulders, and in these it occasionally happens that ice is found. this is most common among the taluses at the base of cliffs, but in some cases ice is found among broken rocks on the sides of gently sloping hills, or even on the plateaus of their summits. sometimes the ice and snow on the bottom of rock gorges all melts away, while further down, in the hollows of the boulders forming the floor, ice still remains. the rocks of which these ice bearing taluses are formed are generally gneiss, granite, limestone, sandstone, basalt or porphyry. among such boulder taluses the phenomenon designated as _windröhren_ or _ventarolen_, that is, windholes, is frequently found. sometimes the air among such boulder formations is quiet, but as a general thing draughts pour out at the lower openings during the hot months, and blow into them during the cold ones. _freezing wells, mines and tunnels._--subterranean ice is also found in certain places in connection with man's handiwork. in a few wells in the united states, the temperature in winter becomes abnormally low, and for four or five months these wells freeze up and become useless. a case of a freezing well was recently observed near la ferté milon in central france.[ ] ice is reported also as forming in various mines in europe, asia and america; in fact, it is not an uncommon occurrence. occasionally, also, ice forms in tunnels. [ ] see part i.: pages , , . part iii.: page . _cold caves._--caves with abnormally low temperatures may be divided into two classes. first, caves where the temperatures are lower than the normal, without becoming low enough for ice to form; and second, caves where the temperatures sink so low, that ice forms. caves where the temperatures sink below the normal, but in which ice does not form either in winter or in summer, are found in several places in different parts of the world. they are termed in french _cavernes froides_ and in german _kalte höhlen_. there are but few data from reliable observers about such cold caves. some descriptions are given without thermometric measurements, and the statements that the caves are cold, mean nothing beyond the fact that they feel colder than the outside air. it is, however, conclusively proved that cold caves exist, and that while they are not freezing caverns, yet that they have a temperature lower than the mean annual temperature of their district. in fact, the assumption, which had passed into an axiom, that caves always have the same temperatures as the mean annual temperature of the district, must certainly be given up. cold caves are generally in one of two shapes: , in the shape of a sand glass,--two cones above each other meeting at the narrowest point--where the upper cone lets the heavy cold air descend easily, while the lower bell shaped cone prevents its escape; and , where two sink holes open into one pit, which is in the shape of a bell.[ ] [ ] _les abimes_, page . _glacière caves or freezing caves._--caves where the temperatures sink so low that ice is able to form, are found in many different rock formations and in various positions, shapes and sizes. the rock formation of freezing caverns is generally limestone, but sometimes it is marble, lava, basalt, gneiss or granite. in all cases, however, the rock is either porous or else it is broken and fissured, as otherwise the water supply necessary to the formation of ice could not find its way in. glacière caverns may, for the sake of convenience, be classified into several classes, according to their position or to their form. the lines of transition between them, however, are so indefinite in nature, that it is often difficult to specify a cavern as belonging to any special type. the most important factor in classifying glacière caves is their position. under this head there are two main divisions: first, pit caves; second, cliff caves. pit caves are those where a pit or pits open into the ground, and the ice is found at the bottom. sometimes there is no roof, when the place may be called a gorge: this occurs at ellenville, where the roof has fallen. again, the pit itself is more or less roofed over and the ice is found mainly or wholly under the roof: this is the case at haut d'aviernoz, at the friedrichsteinerhöhle, at saint-livres, and at saint-georges. sometimes the pit takes the form of a descending tunnel, leading into a hall or chamber, in which the ice lies under a rock roof: this happens at chaux-les-passavant. in all these pit caves the body of the cave is below the entrance, and most of them are fairly well lighted by daylight throughout. generally there is only one pit, but occasionally there are two connected underground, as is the case at la genollière. cliff caves are those where the entrance is at the base or in the side of a cliff. frequently the cave is in the shape of a hall or chamber, which begins directly at the entrance, and which may be large or small. this kind always has a down slope directly from the mouth. the kolowratshöhle, dóbsina and the grand cave de montarquis may be mentioned as examples. in some cases there is a pit at the base of a cliff and there is a slope leading down to the cave, somewhat in the form of a tunnel: this is the case at manchester and practically also at roth. again there is a more or less long gallery between the entrance and the glacière, which is always below the level of the entrance. the schafloch, démenyfálva and decorah may be cited as examples. as a rule the gallery slopes down from the entrance, but sometimes the floor rises and then sinks to the glacière. the top of the entrance, however, is always higher than the highest point of the floor, as otherwise the cold air could not get in. this is the case at the frauenmauerhöhle, and, apparently, also at the posselthöhle. in one case, at amarnath in kashmere, the floor is said to rise to the roof at the back; but as the entrance is nearly as big as the floor area, the ice formations must also be below the level of the top of the entrance. the dimensions of glacière caves vary greatly. some are large, others are small. saint georges, a roofed pit cave, is some twenty-five meters by twelve meters, with a depth of about twelve meters. chaux-les-passavant, a cave at the end of a pit tunnel, has a diameter of some twenty-seven meters. the measures of dóbsina, a cave at the bottom of a cliff, are given as follows: height of roof above ice floor, to meters; length meters; breadth, to meters, and surface about meters. the frauenmauerhöhle is a gallery about one hundred meters long before the ice floor is reached, and this is some fifty meters more in length by about seven meters in width. the glacière cave near frain, on the contrary, is so small that one can only crawl in some two or three meters. in fact, glacière caves vary in size between great halls and little tunnels where one cannot stand up straight. the entrances of glacière caves also vary greatly in their dimensions. for instance, the friedrichsteinerhöhle is on one side of a huge pit and is as large and deep as the pit. saint georges, on the contrary, has, near one end of the roof, a couple of holes, some three meters in diameter. the entrance to the schafloch is four meters wide by four meters seventy centimeters high, while the entrance to roth is not over one meter each way. a classification of subterranean ice formations, and one which applies to all the different forms, is into permanent and periodic glacières. when in any underground spot, ice remains throughout the year, the place may be called a permanent glacière; when on the contrary the ice melts away for part of the year, the place may be called a periodic glacière. this classification, which several observers have used already, is convenient and valuable. _movements of air._--another classification of glacières can be made in accordance with the movements of air underground. glacières may be divided into those where there are no strong draughts in summer and those where there are draughts: or into "apparently static caves"; and "dynamic caves" or "windholes." the first class includes those caves where there is one or more openings close together and those above the body of the cave. in such hollows the air in summer is nearly still, while in winter there are distinct rotary movements of the air as soon as the temperature outside is lower than that within. almost all glacière caves belong to this class of caves without strong draughts in summer. sometimes, however, ice is found in hollows where there are two or more openings, at different altitudes and at different ends of the hollow, and where there are draughts. occasionally, also, there are fissures in the sides or rear of apparently static caves, which allow something like draughts at times, as is the case at the grand cave de montarquis. professor thury of geneva coined the terms "static cave" and "dynamic cave" which have come largely into use since, and which practically correspond to the german terms _eishöhle_ and _windröhre_. i do not think the term "static cave" accurate, and prefer the term "apparently static cave" or "cave without distinct draughts." for although there are many caves where the air seems stagnant at times, and there are no distinct perceptible draughts, still that the air is really stagnant all summer appears to me doubtful, and it seems as if the movements of air were distinctly apparent only in certain caves and not in others. air which is apparently stagnant is found in both pit and cliff caves mainly in the summer months, but even in these i have noticed several times in summer slight movements of air, especially near the entrance. i could not exactly feel the air moving, but by lighting a cigar the smoke could be seen borne outwards exceedingly slowly. at the entrance of the kolowratshöhle i think there was a faint outward current when i was there. the day was hot and windless, and as the cold air met the hot outside air it formed a faint cloud or mist at the mouth of the cavern. at saint-georges, although the air seemed tranquil, i found that the smoke of my cigar ascended rapidly just below the hole in the roof, showing an ascending air current. in the double cave of chapuis, i found one cavern filled by a little lake over which there was a draught.[ ] [ ] see part iv.: butler, page . from the few winter observations we have, there can be no doubt that in winter the movements of the atmosphere are lively, the break in the air column occurring as soon as the outside temperature is lower than that within, when the outer air immediately begins to sink into the cave.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: chaux-les-passavant, page ; saint-georges, page . if i have doubts as to the existence of absolutely static caves, it is different about dynamic caves. when a subterranean hollow goes through rocks, with one opening higher than the other, there will surely be distinct draughts. these dynamic caves exist in many parts of the world under such names as cold current caves or blowing caves or windholes. sometimes they are fissures in broken limestone. often they are the cracks between piles of boulders. a cool air generally pours from the lower opening in summer while the cold air pours into it in winter, the draught being then reversed. at the upper opening the operation takes place in the opposite way, the hot air being sucked in in summer, and given out in winter. sometimes, however, changes take place, according to the differences in the outside temperature, in the direction of the air current in the course of a single day. the causes of the movements of air in these windholes are exceedingly simple. the movements of air depend on the fact that in summer the air in the tube becomes colder from contact with the rocks and, therefore, heavier than the air outside, and by gravity the heavy inside air displaces the lighter outside air and comes rushing out at the lower opening. this leaves a vacuum, which is filled by the warmer air dropping into the tube from above. in winter on the contrary, the air within the tube is warmed by contact with the rocks and becomes lighter than the air outside. it, therefore, rises and streams out from the upper opening, and the vacuum is filled by the heavy cold air pushing in at the lower opening. [illustration: fig. . vertical section of a windhole.] g. f. parrot's[ ] explanation is so satisfactory that i give it with one or two changes. he considers the air movements an ordinary statical phenomenon of the air, in caves which have two openings at different altitudes. let e g d represent the section of such a cave with the openings a and b. let us think that there are over c and b two vertical air columns and from b to c a horizontal air column b c; then the two air columns over b and c are at all times of the year equal in weight. not so the air columns a c and a e g d b, because their temperatures are different. assume the temperature in the cave g is + ° the whole year round. if in summer the air column a c is at a temperature of + °, then the heavy air in the cave g pours out through a and is replaced by air flowing in through b. if in winter the air column a c is at a temperature of - °, then the air pours with equal inverse velocity at a into the cave, and out at b. the velocity of the current in both cases depends on the difference of temperature within and without. [ ] _grundriss der physik der erde und geologie_, , pages - . the foregoing explanation makes it evident that the movements of air in these windholes do not depend on the presence of ice. in many of those i have examined myself there was no ice visible, and from the temperature of the air current, there could not have been any ice within the mountain. still, there are numerous cases where ice is found in windholes among boulders, and a few cases where windholes exist in connection with apparently static glacière caves. undoubtedly the great majority of windholes do not contain ice in summer, or, indeed, at any time of the year, and, as far as i can see, windholes, according to their temperatures, belong rather to the class of normal caves than to that of glacières. _forms of ice._--almost all the forms assumed by underground ice are different from those assumed by overground ice. this is not surprising, as the conditions, under which the ice is formed, are so different. almost all the lines of underground ice are rounded. the sharp angles and fractures visible on glacier or iceberg are absent. instead of seracs and crevasses, broken ice falls, or piled up ice floes, we have hanging stalactites and rising stalagmites, smooth ice floors and curved ice slopes. this difference is of course due to the fact that most subterranean ice is formed from the drip from the roof or the sides of caves, and because the factor of motion--which plays so large a part in the shaping by fracture of overground ice--is practically wanting. the most striking forms of subterranean ice are the ice stalactites and stalagmites. they descend from the roof as icicles or rise from it as rough cones or pyramids. the icicles are of all sorts of shapes and sizes: sometimes they are tiny; sometimes they grow downward till they reach the floor and form regular columns, in some cases no less than eleven meters in height. the ice stalagmites likewise are of all sorts of shapes and sizes, some of them growing to a height of seven or eight meters. occasionally they have hollow bases, but this is rare. how these hollow cones are formed is a still uncertain matter; but it is in some way by the action of the drip. at the kolowratshöhle i saw the drip from the roof cutting out in july the basin, whose tall remaining sides suggested that early in the spring it was probably a hollow cone. the cone at the schafloch of which i saw one half remaining, could only be accounted for by some action from the drip.[ ] the warmth of the rock floor may help perhaps also, in melting away some of the base of the hollow columns. [ ] see part iv.: thury, page ; browne, page . the frozen waterfalls which issue from fissures in the rock walls of caves are another form of ice seen only below ground. for lack of a better name, i call them fissure columns. a peculiarity of these is that, while the rock fissure is more or less rectangular or at least sharp angled, the ice column issues in a rounded stream. sometimes these fissure columns stream over the rock; sometimes they spring out far enough from the rock to be quite away from it. they vary from about one to five meters in height, and at the base they almost always spread out in a shape resembling that of a fan. the ice on the bottom of caverns of course takes its shape from the form and angles of the floor of the caves. if the bottom is level or nearly so, the ice lies on it as a sheet or floor. if the bottom of the cave is sloping, the ice follows the angles of the slope, forming an ice slope or ice wall, and sometimes becoming nearly or quite vertical. these ice slopes distantly resemble the portions of glaciers called an ice fall, with the great difference, however, that there are no crevasses, not even tiny ones. occasionally, slabs of ice are found reposing in a fractured sheet over a solid ice floor. this means that a lake has formed on this spot in the spring, frozen over, and then run off, leaving its frozen surface in broken pieces on top of the under ice. another kind of frozen water is the hoar frost which forms on the rock roofs and walls. this is not at all rare. it is an open question whether this is not the same thing as that which has been described as subterranean snow.[ ] i found myself in dóbsina a small sheet of what to look and touch was snow. i wrote of this as snow in my first paper about glacières[ ], but i am of the opinion now that it was the hoar frost detached from the roof and not genuine snow. [ ] see part iii.: ziegenloch, page ; creux de souci, page . [ ] _ice caves and the causes of subterranean ice_, november, , and march, . at dóbsina, also, i noticed that the ice of the ice wall of the korridor assumed a stratified or laminated form. mr. john f. lewis of philadelphia suggested to me that this was probably due to a precipitation of the hoar frost from the roof, and i think his explanation is correct. the hoar frost forming at a certain degree of cold, would doubtless be precipitated at a rise of temperature, and would then act much as do the different layers of snow in the upper portion of glaciers.[ ] it would consolidate gradually, layer over layer, and form strata, producing the banded or laminated structure visible in the vertical ice of the dóbsina korridor. [ ] whymper: _scrambles amongst the alps_, , page . the ice in caverns is sometimes found with a structure which is, i believe, of rare occurrence above ground. this is when it takes the shape known as prismatic ice, which means that if a lump is broken from a column or icicle, the fracture will show regular prisms. this phenomenon is not as yet satisfactorily accounted for; the only thing certain about it is, that it does not occur in ice of recent formation. from my own observations, i should say that ice became prismatic at the end of summer; at least i have always found it in august or september rather than in june or july.[ ] [ ] see part iv.: browne, page ; lohmann, page . besides building up ice heaps, the drip, also, has the function of destroying its own creations. if there are no crevasses, there are holes and runnels. these are generally found at or leading to the lowest point of the ice floor. occasionally the holes are deep, sometimes many meters in depth. they are certainly cut out by the melting water, to which they offer an exit; in fact they are a part of the drainage system present in all glacière caves, where there must be some outlet for surplus water at or near the lowest point: and as the caves are always in porous or broken rock, the drainage takes place through the cracks and fissures. the drip produces also the exact opposite of pyramids in the shape of ice basins. these are cut in the floor by an extra strong drip from the roof at those spots. basins exactly like these are not seen on glaciers. not infrequently they are full of water of considerable depth. lakes and pools are found in glacière caves. sometimes they are on the ice floor, and in this case they are due either to rain-water collecting faster than it can flow off, or else because the cave is in a state of thaw. sometimes these pools are among the rocks in one part of a cave, while the ice is in another part. i have said above that motion in subterranean ice is practically wanting. this is proved by the lack of crevasses on the ice slopes or ice walls, and also by the fact that basins and cones appear year after year in the same spots, where they remain whether they are increasing or diminishing. but this statement cannot be held to cover the entrance snow and ice slopes of some of the open pit caves such as the gottscheer cave, or saint-livres or haut d'aviernoz. here the snow, which falls on the entrance slope, must gradually gravitate to the bottom. the question is whether it only descends in the shape of water after melting or as snow before solidifying; or whether it ever slides down at all after becoming somewhat solidified. probably, however, the ice of these slopes, judging from the fact that crevasses are entirely lacking, remains stationary. _color effects._--the color effect of every glacière cavern has a certain individuality, according to the color of the rocks, the quantity of ice, and the amount of daylight admitted through the entrance. in my opinion, the white note given by the ice, makes a fine glacière cave the most beautiful of all subterranean hollows. in this respect it seems to me that they are similar to high alps, which are certainly most impressive with coverings of snow and glacier. there are, however, two distinct notes in the color effects of glacière caves and these may be described as the partly subterranean, or as the wholly subterranean. in the former case the local tints stand out more clearly. for instance, at the kolowratshöhle the ice is beautifully transparent and of a pale ochre-greenish hue: the limestone rocks are streaked with iron, and thus have a reddish hue, while, owing to the entrance admitting plenty of daylight, the effect is only semi-subterranean. again, at chaux-les-passavant plenty of daylight is admitted: the rocks are a yellowish brown, and the ice is white and blue. at the schafloch or the frauenmauer, on the contrary, the effect is wholly subterranean: daylight is so completely absent that black is the predominating note, the ice itself looking gray. dóbsina is an exception, as, thanks to the electric light, white is the conspicuous tone, even though rocks and shadows dull many places and corners into a sombre gray. more than once, on returning to daylight from the intense blackness of a cave, i have seen the rocks near the entrance appear a dark blue color, exactly simulating moonlight. this effect is common to both glacière caves and ordinary caverns. it is a striking but rare phenomenon, and depends apparently on the shape of the cave. this moonlight effect only seems to occur when a cave makes an elbow directly after the mouth and then goes straight for some distance. when the daylight is actually in sight, the moonlight impression vanishes. _carbonic acid gas._--carbonic acid gas, judging from the most recent explorations, is more of a rarity in rock caves with normal temperatures than is generally supposed. there appears to be only one case on record where this gas was observed in a cold cave. this was in the creux-de-souci,[ ] which is rather a cold than a freezing cavern, but which on one occasion was found to contain snow, and whose temperature is always extremely low. from the present state of knowledge, therefore, it may be assumed that if carbonic acid gas does form in glacière caves, it does so only seldom. [ ] see part iii.: page . _fauna._--no attention whatever has been paid, practically as yet, as to whether any distinctive animal life exists in glacières. so far, i have seen none myself. the rev. g. f. browne, in four instances, found a large red-brown fly nearly an inch long, which is supposed to be _stenophylax hieroglyphicus_ of stephens; and at chapuis, he obtained an ichneumon of the genus _paniscus_. at font d'urle, monsieur villard captured a blind specimen of a coleoptera, _cytodromus dapsoïdes_. a variety of rotifer, _notholca longispina_, is now living in the creux-de-souci. in skerisora, remains of bats have been found, not very different from those now living in the neighborhood.[ ] it is, in any case, certainly remarkable that the same kind of fly should have been discovered in several glacières in different localities; and it may some day be shown that there is a special insect fauna. certainly the subject is worth investigating.[ ] [ ] see part i.: ausable pond, page , and part iii.: creux-de-souci, page ; font d'urle, page ; chapuis, page ; la genollière, page ; skerisora, page . [ ] in june, , i mentioned these facts to monsieur armand viré, director of the biologic laboratory in the catacombs of the jardin des plantes in paris. he was much interested, and promised to make a careful investigation of the matter. _flora._--the flora of glacières has been as little observed as the fauna. there are scarcely any references to such a thing as glacière plant life in literature. whether there is a special flora in any glacière cave is still an open question. in the cases of several boulder taluses, there is no doubt that, even if there is not a special flora, at least that the plants near the ice beds are greatly retarded every year in their development. probably the flora among the boulders blooms a month or six weeks later than the flora in the immediate vicinity. in the cases of the cave of paradana and of the kuntschner eishöhle it is reported that the plant life becomes more and more arctic in character towards the bottom of the pit.[ ] [ ] see part i.: ausable pond, page ; giant of the valley, page , note ; ice gulch, page ; spruce creek, page . see part iii: spruce creek, page ; paradana, page ; kuntschner eishöhle, page . _paleontology._--no paleontological remains have as yet been reported from glacière caves. no bones of animals have been found, except those of bats in skerisora[ ] and a few of the common genus _bos_.[ ] no relics of the handiwork of man have been discovered; nor, indeed, with the exception of the skeletons found in the cave of yeermallik in kondooz,[ ] anything which reveals the presence of man in glacières or that they were ever used for habitation. the reason that there are so few remains in glacière caves is undoubtedly because their temperatures are too low for their occupation by animal or man; but, from the evidence afforded by their non-occupation, may be drawn the valuable inference that the glacière caves of to-day were glacière caves long ago. [ ] see part iii.: skerisora, page . [ ] see part i.: saint-livres, page . [ ] see part iii.: yeermallik, page . _legends and religion._--there are scarcely any legends connected with glacières. i know only of one about one of the caves of the mont parmelan.[ ] nor does there seem to be any reference to glacière caves in works of fiction. dante makes his last hell full of an ice lake, but an attentive perusal fails to reveal a single line which in any way describes or suggests a glacière. in at least two cases,[ ] however, the ice in caves is connected with religion, as in kashmere, the hindoos, and in arizona, the zuni indians, either worship or pray at glacière caves, overawed, from some mystical feeling, by the permanence of the ice formations which they connect with their deities. [ ] see part iii.: glacière de l'enfer, page . [ ] see part iii.: amarnath, page ; cave, white mountains, arizona, page . ii. the cause of the formation of subterranean ice is undoubtedly one of the most intricate problems in connection with caverns. various theories have been advanced why ice is found in certain caves and not in others. some writers have held that it is a remnant of a glacial period; others that it is owing to the presence of salts in the rocks; some have said that it is due to the rocks retarding waves of heat and cold; and still others think that it is formed by pressure on the percolating waters. many of these theories were formulated in explanation of the belief of peasants living near the caves, who almost always say that the ice is formed in summer and melts in winter. most scientific observers on the other hand claim that the ice is due to the cold of winter, and a few think that it is formed or helped by draughts and by evaporation and expansion of the air. the variety of opinions put forth, show at any rate the intricacy of the problem. all my own observations have tended more and more to make me believe that the cold of winter is the cause of the ice. before elaborating my own views, however, i wish to take up seriatim the theories which have been formulated, principally in explanation of the belief that the ice was a summer product, and to give my reasons for my disbelief in them. _glacial period._--the first theory, perhaps, to touch on, is the one that the ice is a remnant of a glacial period. this seems to occur to many persons as a solution of the question when they first hear of glacières, and it has been several times propounded to me, and naturally enough, always by scientific men.[ ] still i do not think it has ever been held by anyone who had made a study of glacières. [ ] see part iv.: hitchcock, page ; bonney, page ; dawkins, page . the theory is, indeed, untenable in regard to freezing caves, as it does not accord with the observed facts of the yearly disappearance of the ice in many caves and taluses. at szilize every year the ice has disappeared pretty completely by november, and the cave is free; but in april or may the floor is again covered with ice, and columns and icicles have formed on the roof and sides. at la genollière the cave is used by the people of the neighboring châlets, through the spring and early summer, to help in the operation of butter making; by the middle or the end of august it has entirely disappeared, but is found formed afresh the following spring. at the rumney talus, at the cave of decorah, at the gorge of ellenville, and at the williamstown snow hole, i found no snow or ice.[ ] yet it is abundant in all these localities in the spring. too many examples of the complete melting away of the ice every year can be cited, to permit any doubt: glacière caves are not connected with a glacial period. [ ] see part i.: rumney, page ; decorah, page ; ellenville, page ; williamstown, page . though it may be stated positively that the ice in caves is not a remnant of a glacial period, yet this cannot be done so authoritatively about subsoil ice sheets and freezing wells. at brandon, owego and decorah the gravel was found frozen at the time the wells were dug, and it is of course impossible to determine for how long a time this was the case previous to the digging. the proofs, however, are so strong that the ice re-forms every winter at such freezing wells, that they may be considered as in every respect following the same general laws as glacière caves. that the ice in these wells is not the remains of a glacial period, seems proved moreover by the work of the boston natural history society, which sank two wells at brandon near to the freezing well. one of these was only twenty-one meters distant and went through the same gravel drift. yet it did not strike ice.[ ] a somewhat similar state of things appears to be the case with the centennial lode and other lodes on mount mcclellan,[ ] where the causes also seem to be local, as there is no ice in mines on neighboring mountains. [ ] see part iv.: hager, page ; hitchcock, page . [ ] see part iii.: rifts of ice, etc., page . _the summer's heat theory._--the natives and peasants in the neighborhood of glacière caves generally believe that the ice of caves is formed in summer and melts in winter. i have met with this belief everywhere in europe; in the eifel, jura, swiss alps, tyrolese alps, and carpathians: and also occasionally in the united states. peasants and guides tell you with absolute confidence: "the hotter the summer the more ice there is." the strange thing is that any number of writers[ ]--sometimes scientific men--have accepted the ideas and statements of the peasants about the formation of ice in summer, and have tried to account for it. [ ] among them may be mentioned: boisot, ; valvasor, ; behrens, ; billerez, ; bel, ; rosenmüller and tillesius, ; sartori, ; pictet, ; scrope, ; murchison, . the belief of the peasants is founded on the fact that they scarcely ever go to any cave except when some tourist takes them with him, and, therefore, they rarely see one in winter, and their faith is not based on observation. it is, however, founded on an appearance of truth: and that is on the fact that the temperatures of glacière caves, like that of other caves or that of cellars, are colder in summer than the outside air, and warmer in winter than the outside air. possessing neither reasoning powers nor thermometers, the peasants simply go a step further and say that glacière caves are cold in summer and hot in winter. professor thury tells a story to the point. he visited the grand cave de montarquis in mid-winter. all the peasants told him there would be no use going, as there would be no ice in the cave. he tried to find even one peasant who had been to the cave in winter, but could not. he then visited it himself and found it full of hard ice. on his return he told the peasants of his discovery. they were staggered at first, finally one exclaimed: "it makes no difference; in genuine glacières there is no ice in winter." it will be difficult, probably, to eradicate this belief and the consequent theories among the uneducated people in the vicinity of glacière caves, for their imperfect observations will keep it alive. in refutation, it may be said that the winter's cold theory is the direct opposite of the summer's heat theory, and that all the observations and all the facts which prove the one, disprove the other. within two or three years, however, the formation of small quantities of ice has been observed during the summer months in one or two caves. this has taken place in mountain caves situated at a high altitude at times when the air outside has dropped below freezing point during the night. there is, therefore, nothing inconsistent in this fact with the winter's cold theory: indeed it is only a widening of it in the meaning of the word winter.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: beilsteinhöhle, page . part iv.: professor cranmer, page . _chemical causes._--non-scientific persons, on first hearing of glacière caves, almost always suggest that to form the ice there must be salts in the rocks. probably they connect unconsciously in their minds "ice caves" and "ice cream." chemical causes, however, have never appealed to scientific men.[ ] there are only two places i know of where salt is reported. one is the ice spring in oregon, which is said to be slightly saline in taste; the other is the cave of illetzkaya-zatschita, where the gypsum hillock, in which the ice is found, overlies a bed of rock salt. repeated experiments in letting lumps of glacière ice melt in my mouth have convinced me personally that in all cases the water is exceedingly pure and sweet, a fact mentioned in the very first notice extant about glacières, the letter of benigne poissenot in , who speaks of the deliciousness of the water in chaux-les-passavant. to sum this matter up briefly, it can be safely asserted that all causes, which would fall under the head of "chemical causes," must be entirely eliminated as possible cold producers. [ ] see part iv.: billerez, page ; hacquet, page . _waves of heat and cold._--while sir roderick murchison was studying the geology of russia,[ ] he visited illetzkaya-zatschita and was puzzled to account for the ice formations. he thought, at first, that they were due to the presence of salt, but recognizing that this was not correct he submitted the case to sir john herschel, who, rejecting the evaporation or condensation of vapor as the cause, argued that the ice was due to waves of heat and cold, and that at certain depths in the interior, the cold wave arrived in mid-summer and the heat in mid-winter. murchison declined to assent to this doctrine, asking why one cave should present this exceptional occurrence, when the numerous other rents and openings in the same hillock were free from ice. the impossibility of the heat and cold wave theory was so completely shown by murchison's objection, that it has never again been brought forward. [ ] _the geology of russia and the ural mountains_, vol. i., pages - . _capillary or compressed air theory._--the possibility of compressed air causing subterranean ice to form seems to have been first authoritatively formulated by mr. n. m. lowe, of boston.[ ] his theory in brief is this:--bubbles of air drawn into water flowing down through fissures in rocks are liable to a continually increasing pressure. when the air has reached the bottom and is liberated in the cave, it will be from a pressure equal to the height of the column of water, and it will have lost by connection in the mass through which the conduit passes, the heat due to its compression; and on being liberated, it will immediately absorb from the air and the water in the cave, the heat which it has lost in its downward passage. [ ] _science observer._ boston, , vol. ii., page . see part iv.: silliman, page ; olmstead, page . several scientific observers have rallied to this idea.[ ] one of the hungarian residents at dóbsina, a doctor, whose opportunities for observations are unrivalled, told me--if i understood him correctly--that he believed in the capillary theory. [ ] see b. schwalbe, _ueber eishöhlen und eislöcher_, page . there are many facts, however, which militate against the compressed air theory as applied to caves. almost all caves receive some drip through fissures, and yet there are many thousands of caves which never contain ice, and whose temperature scarcely varies the year round. especially against the theory is the fact that glacière caves are never known in hot countries. if the theory were correct we should, for instance, sometimes find ice in such caves as those of yucatan described by mr. mercer.[ ] [ ] _the hill caves of yucatan._ there are also some mechanical difficulties in the way. mr. john ritchie[ ] touches them when he says: "if the passage through which the water flows down is at all tubular the column will be subjected to the usual hydrostatic pressure." the word _tubular_ is the hard one to answer. limestone rock fissures are certainly not tubular. they have all sorts of shapes and angles and corners, every one of which would interfere with anything like a regular pressure. [ ] _boston transcript_, january d, . this latter objection would not apply to borings in mines. i have been assured that in some borings in western mines ice has been formed by pressure, and there may be truth in this, although i doubt it, as i have yet to hear of ice in any mines in warm latitudes. mr. john ritchie[ ] has suggested, also, that if compressed air does not perhaps act strongly enough to form ice, yet it may help in keeping the temperature low and aid in the formation of draughts in caves and boulder heaps. at present, however, i can see no reason to think that the ice in caves is due to compressed air.[ ] [ ] _the happy thought._ boston, january d, . [ ] see part i.: page . iii. i have already said that i believe that the cold of winter is the cause of the ice in caves. to make this clearer, i may say that i look on glacières as the last outcrop, the outside edge, so to speak, of the area of low temperatures, which has its culminating point in the northern hemisphere in the arctic ocean, greenland and siberia, and in the southern hemisphere in the antarctic; and which is manifested to us in the snows of mountain peaks, and immediately round us in frozen ponds and rivers and snowy blizzards; and which, as it disappears each summer, leaves its last traces in our latitudes in sequestered gorges and convenient caverns. in every case, it seems to me, glacières are simply refrigerators, which preserve the ice and snow accumulated in them during the winter. they all follow the same general laws as to the origin of their contents, modified only in slight degree according to the varying natural local conditions, such as the water supply, or the protection from sun and wind, or the thickness of the overhead rock, or the altitude or latitude. i cannot see that there is anything remarkable about the fact that the cold of winter is able to penetrate and make itself felt sometimes for a slight depth in the earth's crust; a depth, so far as yet known, never exceeding one hundred and fifty meters. it seems to me that glacières only emphasize a law of nature, which has doubtless been formulated many times in connection with springs and phreatic waters, and that is, that where we find cold waters underground, we may be sure that they have penetrated from the outside. if we look first at the mode of formation of overground perennial ice, that is, of the ice of glaciers and of rock gorges; and then at the evidences of the mode of formation of underground perennial ice, in boulder heaps, wells and caves; we will soon see that the transitions between them are gentle in character and that there is nothing unnatural about the formation of the ice in glacières. _glaciers._--everyone now knows the main characteristics of glaciers. they are formed in parts of the earth where the land or the mountains reach to the region of perpetual snow. the snows fall from the sky, and accumulate into a snow cap, which by its own weight and by melting and regelation, gradually changes to ice. this, by the laws of gravitation, descends to lower levels, and in mountain valleys extends sometimes far below the snow line into the region of cultivated fields. these valley prolongations of the perpetual snow caps are the glaciers. the important point to notice here, is that the formation of glaciers is originally entirely due to the precipitation of moisture by cold in the upper portions; while the destruction of glaciers is due to the action of heat melting the ice in the lower portions, where they disappear in the shape of streams of running water. it is, therefore, not surprising that the greatest glaciers are found in the arctic and antarctic regions and in the highest mountain ranges; and that in the tropics glaciers are either wanting or exceedingly small. _gorges and troughs._--gorges and gullies, where ice remains over, are a transitional form between glaciers and glacières. in many mountain ravines or canyons, the enduring snow consists principally of the avalanches which have fallen from the heights above during the winter and solidified in the bottom of the ravines. freezing gorges proper, however, are not dependent on avalanches for their supply, but they receive the accretions to their ice directly from the winter snows. these fall into the gorge itself and by melting and regelation gradually solidify into a mass of ice which, when well sheltered against sun and wind, remains over sometimes till the following winter. by their mode of formation, therefore, it is evident that the ice in these gorges has some of the characteristics of glaciers; that it is due to the same prime causes as the ice of glaciers or the ice on ponds and rivers, namely the cold of winter; and in fact, it is not far wrong to consider these gorges as miniature glaciers. freezing gorges, however, show, also, certain degrees of kinship to freezing caverns and taluses, principally in the protection afforded to the ice against external destructive influences. the ice is almost always found in positions where it receives little, if any, of the direct rays of the sun and, also, where it is scarcely, if at all, exposed to any winds. the sides of the fissures and surrounding trees generally afford the necessary protection. some of the forms which the ice assumes in gorges, such as long pendent icicles, are also more characteristic of underground than of overground ice. the freezing troughs or basins found in siberia are evidently closely related to gorges, and the fact that the ice is found in less sheltered places may be explained by the high northerly latitudes of these troughs, in general between fifty-seven and sixty degrees. _the winter's cold theory._--the places where ice is found underground differ in one important respect from gullies and troughs, and that is, in the fact that above the ice there is rock or soil, which, in true caves, takes the form of a roof. this causes some important distinctions between overground and underground perennial ice. it means that the ice is formed directly in the caves, and that it is genuine subterranean ice, and not, except perhaps near the entrance, solidified snow. the roof, while not admitting the winter snows, is, however, a protection against warm summer rains, and, of course, entirely cuts off radiation from the sky. if, therefore, it keeps out some cold, it also acts as a protector against heat. that the cold of winter is the source of the cold which produces the ice which forms underground, and that it is through its influence, with the assistance of certain secondary causes, that some caves are converted into what are practically natural ice houses, seems to me the true explanation of the phenomenon of subterranean ice, not only since it is the simple and obvious explanation, but also because all the facts, so far as i have myself observed, are in accord with this theory.[ ] [ ] among those who have written or said that the cold of winter plays a more or less important part in the formation of subterranean ice may be mentioned: poissenot, ; gollut, ; deboz, ; nagel, ; cossigny, ; jars, ; hacquet, ; girod-chantrans, ; hablizl, ; prévost, ; townson, ; humboldt, ; dearborn, ; deluc, ; dewey, ; lee, ; reich, ; hayden, ; guyot, ; rogers, ; petruzzi, ; smyth, ; hager, ; thury, ; browne, ; raymond, ; krenner, ; ritchie, ; benedict, ; schwalbe, ; fugger, ; trouillet, ; girardot, ; russell, ; martel, ; krauss, ; lohmann, ; balch, ; cvijic, ; butler, ; kovarik, ; cranmer, . to form subterranean ice, just as to form any other ice, two things are necessary: the first is cold, the second is water. cold is supplied by the cold air of winter, and water must in some manner find its way into the cave while the cold air is there. the process is as follows: the cold air of winter sinks into and permeates the cave, and in course of time freezes up all the water which, in the shape of melting snow or cold winter rain or spring water, finds its way in; and once ice is formed it remains long after ice in the surrounding open country has melted away, because heat penetrates with difficulty into the cave. the only effect of the heat of summer is to melt the ice. the proofs, to my mind, of the truth of this view are: --glacières are always found in parts of the world where, during part of the year at least, the temperatures of the surrounding country fall below freezing point. --all observations by reliable observers show that the temperatures of glacière caves vary, but in a much narrower thermometric scale, with those of the outside air: that the temperatures are lowest, and as a rule below freezing point, during the winter months; and that the temperatures are highest, and as a rule above freezing point, during the summer months. --ice is never found far from the mouth of caves, but always near enough for the cold air to get in. --evaporation, according to my observations, is, as in all other forms of ice in nature, connected mainly with the melting, not the freezing of the ice. _geographical distribution and altitudes._--glacière caves proper are found in various parts of europe, asia, and america, mostly in the smaller mountain ranges or in the outliers of the snowy mountain chains; generally in limestone and occasionally in basaltic formations. there are a good many in the jura; a few in the swiss and the italian alps; a number in the eastern alps of tyrol and carinthia. there are some in hungary, several in russia, one in iceland, one on the peak of teneriffe, a number in siberia, one in kondooz in central asia, one in the himálaya, one in japan, and one in korea. i have heard so far of over fifty glacières in north america, several of which are in pennsylvania. from all over the world there are some three hundred places reported where subterranean ice is said to occur. this includes gorges, boulder heaps and freezing mines and wells, all of which exist in much the same localities as glacière caves. all the glacières which i know of, are situated in a latitude or at an altitude where ice and snow forms for part of the year in the surrounding open country. none are reported from india or africa, or in fact from any low-lying places in tropical latitudes. most of them are found in middle latitudes, and only where during part of the year, at least, there is a cold season, that is, where for some time the thermometer stands below freezing point. glacières are, in general, at fairly high altitudes. the schafloch is at meters; skerisora in transylvania at meters; dóbsina at meters; the glacière de saint-georges at meters. it is true that there is one freezing cavern in the sub-tropical latitude of teneriffe, la cueva de la nieve; but it is at an altitude of meters, and where snow falls every year in the open on the peak. unless some freezing cave is hereafter discovered in a region where there is no ice in the open in winter, i do not see how the imperative necessity of the cold air of winter for forming the supply of ice can be controverted. _thermometric observations._--that the cold air of winter is the important factor in the production of cold is proved, also, by the thermometric observations recorded in various caves by different observers. they all tell the same tale: that the temperatures vary with those of the outside air, that they are lowest in winter and highest in summer. i quote in the "list of glacières"[ ] a few of those published; but there are many more, and they all show the same general characteristics. [ ] see part iii.: decorah, page ; chaux-les-passavant, pages - ; la poujade, page ; montarquis, page ; saint-georges, page ; schafloch, page ; kolowratshöhle, page ; schellenberger eisgrotte, page ; frain, page ; dóbsina, page ; etc. a comparison of all the figures recorded proves that, as a rule--inside of glacière caves--from about the first of november to the first of july, there are winter temperatures, that is temperatures below freezing point; and from about the first of july to the first of november, there are summer temperatures, that is temperatures above freezing point. the observations prove also that the inner temperatures vary less than the outer, that is that they range within narrower limits. they also show that the inner air is but slowly affected by the outer air when the latter is above freezing point, the inner temperature rising then only gradually. per contra, when the outside temperature drops quickly much below freezing point, the inside temperature generally drops correspondingly at once, proving that the cold air has sunk by its weight into the cave. the observations also prove that the old idea that the temperature of caves is the same throughout, can no longer be considered correct. the observations also appear to show, that the temperature of a cave does not necessarily represent the mean annual temperature of a surrounding district. observation is still entirely lacking on the mean annual temperature of glacières, so that one cannot speak definitely about the matter; but it seems likely that the mean annual temperature of a glacière cave is lower than the isotherm of its locality; and it seems more than probable that on the same isotherm different glacière caves may have different mean annual temperatures, varying with the elements of size, quantity of ice, position of body of cave and of entrance, water supply and other factors. _ice near the entrance of caves and the surface of the soil._--an important proof that it is the cold air of winter which forms the ice is the fact that the latter is always found near the entrance of caves or near the surface of the soil. it never extends far within. to the best of my knowledge, ice has never been found two hundred meters from the entrance nor at any depth beyond one hundred and fifty meters. in all caves of great extent, the temperature far in is about the same as that of the surrounding rock, and in all deep borings the temperature increases with the depth and at great depths the temperature becomes high. this nearness of subterranean ice to the outside air is one of the best proofs, that, paradoxical as the whole phenomenon appears at first, yet in reality it is an extremely simple matter. the position of the entrance of a cave in relation to the body of the cave is an important factor in permitting the cold air to permeate and remain in the cave. in all the caves or gullies i have examined myself, the main mass of ice is well below the level of the entrance, and even if the latter is sheltered against the wind, it is not sheltered against the cold air of winter. this is heavy, and by its own weight sinks well down to the bottom, freezing up in course of time all the moisture that may drip from the roof, or that may come into the cave in the shape of melted snow or cold winter rain. the summer air, which is warm and, therefore, light, can only enter the cave with great difficulty; and, as a rule, before it dislodges the winter air and destroys the ice, another winter's freeze reverses once more the conditions. these principles seem to hold of every known glacière. it is true, that at the frauenmauer, the floor of the cavern rises somewhat from the entrance; but the highest point of the floor is still below the level of the top of the entrance, so that the cold air can flow over the highest point without difficulty. the same appears to be the case at the posselthöhle; while at amarnath in kashmere, where the floor is said to rise to the back wall, the entrance is about as large as the area of the floor, so that the ice must also be below the level of the top of the entrance. the position or situation of the entrance is important. in almost all cases it has a northerly exposure, and is sheltered against entering winds. if these two conditions do not exist the ice supply surely suffers. sometimes the entrance is more or less tortuous. in some cases it is protected by a fringe of trees. still, there is no absolute rule about entrances. the friedrichsteinerhöhle faces about due south, and at midday in summer, the sun shines all the way down to the ice floor, causing mists to form. in the kolowratshöhle, the entrance is badly sheltered against the wind and this undoubtedly affects the supply in summer and causes more rapid melting there than in some other cases.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: decorah, page . freezing boulder taluses invariably have the ice near the surface, and probably it is never a dozen meters distant from the open air. these taluses are one of the strongest links in the chain of evidence proving the winter's cold theory. the snow and ice on the surface of the taluses and on the surface of the boulders in gullies melts away, while it still lingers underneath the boulders. it seems self-evident that the melting snow water has run to the lowest level and there congealed, and then remained because it was better sheltered than the ice outside. the subsoil ice of the tundras of siberia and alaska is almost identical with the ice of boulder formations, except that it extends under larger areas. it is the product of a climate where there is a long, rigorous winter and it is not surprising that the ice is found at greater depths than in more southerly latitudes.[ ] the depth to which the ice extends is, of course, determined by the depth to which the winter's cold can penetrate the soil. there is no doubt that the causes of this ice are local, that is, that it is due to the long prevailing low temperatures. [ ] see part iii.: alaska, page ; klondike, page ; kowak river, page ; kotzebue sound, page . the freezing wells of which the most conspicuous examples are at brandon, owego, decorah, and in montana, seem also due to local causes and the ice is never far from the surface, that is, not over twenty meters; and apparently also it forms above the water horizons which supply the wells. the ice sheet on mount etna[ ] does not seem to be at any great depth. it apparently had a different origin from most subterranean ice masses, in that the snow probably fell first and was then covered by a flow of lava. it is, therefore, almost _sui generis_ in its mode of formation, unless there are similar sheets on other volcanoes, which is probable in a country like iceland, and which is said to be the case in tierra del fuego,[ ] but the original cause of the ice sheet on etna was the same as all other subterranean ice masses, namely the cold of winter. [ ] see part iii., page . [ ] see part iii., page . _evaporation and movements of air._--the formation of subterranean ice is sometimes assigned partly to evaporation or to expansion of the air. the theory is an old one, and both scientific and non-scientific men have advanced it.[ ] [ ] among those who have written that evaporation is a factor in the formation of subterranean ice, may be mentioned: pictet, ; scrope, ; reich, ; pleischl, ; murchison, ; olmstead, ; hitchcock, ; white, ; kirchhoff, ; krauss, . i have already said that i believe it is the movements of the air which cause a cave to be a glacière cave or a normal cave. when they act in such a way as to permit the cold air of winter to permeate a cave, we find low temperatures and ice; when they do not, we find the temperature about the same as that of the ground and no ice. that the ice is not formed in apparently static caves, by movements of air producing evaporation, seems to me proved by what i have noticed in regard to the atmosphere. the dryness or moistness of the air within a glacière cave is coincident with the state of freezing or thawing of the cave. when i have visited a large cave in june, everything was frozen tight, there were no drips nor mushy ice, the air was relatively dry and the sensation of cold not unpleasant. when i have visited a cave in august, the ice was soft and mushy, water was dripping from the roof, the atmosphere was moist, and the cold penetrating. it seems to me that the facts go to show that it is not evaporation which forms the ice, but the melting of the ice which fills the cave with moisture. if there are any draughts or movements of the atmosphere when above freezing point, then their tendency is to vaporize the ice. the process of the formation of ice in relation to the atmosphere is as follows: the cold air permeates the cave and freezes up all the drip: the atmosphere becomes dry: gradually warmer air gets in and the ice begins to melt: then the atmosphere gets charged slowly with the vapor of the melting ice. this process is the exact opposite of the formation of ice by evaporation; it is the atmosphere which is made humid by the vaporizing of the ice, and by the drip. when the air is thoroughly saturated with the vapor, being scarcely renewed from outside and but a few degrees above freezing point, it undoubtedly retards evaporation, acts like a blanket and lessens the rate of melting of the ice.[ ] [ ] see part iv.: thury, page ; fugger, page ; trouillet, page . everything i have personally observed in freezing windholes shows that in them also the cold of winter and not evaporation is the cause of the ice. they answer to the same tests as other glacières, of geographical distribution and altitude, nearness of ice to the outside, thermometric observations, and dampness of the air when the ice melts. equally with other glacières, the movements of air in windholes do not depend on the presence of ice, but the ice does depend on the movements of air and a water supply at the proper time. a proof that it is the cold of winter which makes the ice in windholes, is that the ice is always found at the lower extremity, for the reason that it is at that end that the cold air enters and to that end that the water gravitates. the reason that ice is more rarely found in windholes than in apparently static caves, is due to the movements of air. unlike the caves where the heavy cold air preserves the ice by remaining pent up, as soon as the outside temperature rises the heavy cold air in windholes tumbles out at the lower opening and is replaced gradually by air at a higher temperature. this also flows out and when it is above freezing point, it naturally melts the ice and becomes humid: in fact, it vaporizes the ice as it passes, and dissipates the moisture into the outer air. it is, however, certain, that in caves with a temperature some degrees above freezing point, when there is either running water or strong drips, evaporation may be, and sometimes undoubtedly is, a factor in lowering the temperature somewhat.[ ] as in some windholes there is occasionally moisture on the rock surfaces where the air current passes, the evaporation from these surfaces doubtless lowers the temperature of the draughts, and it may be, also those of the rock surfaces, a little. [ ] see part iv.: de saussure, page . see also _les abimes_, , page . further observations, however, will be necessary in regard to evaporation underground, as the data are still insufficient to make absolutely positive statements.[ ] i fail to see any evidence to show that evaporation ever lowers the temperature of draughts underground below freezing point, only that it may help to lower them to something less than they would otherwise be. taking all the facts which i have myself observed, and all i have read of in the reports of others, my own conclusion is that we have no proof that evaporation underground is ever strong enough to produce ice. [ ] several observers consider evaporation as more or less of a factor in the production of cold underground. it is suggested also, that in certain cases, at high altitudes, evaporation tends to prevent the melting of the ice in windholes, but this is not proved, as yet. see part iv.: de saussure, page ; fugger, page ; trouillet, page ; martel, page ; lohmann, page . _time of formation of ice._--everything i have seen points to the fact that ice begins to form in a cave as soon as the temperature of the cave has sunk below freezing point, whenever, from any cause, water gets into the cave. the cold may begin to penetrate caves as soon as outside frosts have occurred, that is in the fall months, about november; and as soon as the temperature inside sinks below freezing point, ice will begin to form, provided also that water gets into the cave, from rains or springs or any other source. in the mid-winter months, although there is then plenty of cold, the water supply is generally lacking, as the outside moisture is mostly frozen up and the result is that the winter months are not those when the ice is mainly formed. some is undoubtedly formed in certain caves whenever during the course of the winter a surface thaw outside furnishes water to the cave,[ ] but in other cases this is not so and the ice does not appear before the spring. in all cases it is in the spring, before the cave has parted with its store of cold, and when both the air and the rock walls are chilled below freezing point[ ] that the ice forms fastest. then plenty of water is furnished by the melting of the snows and the unlocking of the brooks, and also by early spring rains. all this surface water runs through the fissures into the still freezing cave and there becomes ice. not only the air, but also the rock walls are chilled below freezing point, and as the rocks part slowly with the cold stored in them, this cold helps to freeze the water pouring in. [ ] see part iii.: chaux-les-passavant, page ; saint-georges, page . [ ] see part iv.: townson, page ; thury, page ; trouillet, page ; schwalbe, page ; terlanday, page ; kovarik, page . the natural law in relation to time seems to be this: ice may be formed in caves as soon as the outside temperature sinks below freezing point. in some caves it forms intermittently all through the cold months because there is a water supply. in other caves it only forms in the spring, because there is no water supply in the winter months. in all cases, however, the end of winter is the time when most of the ice is formed. part iii. list of glaciÈres. list of glaciÈres.[ ] [ ] this list is necessarily incomplete, and only approximately accurate in many cases. north america. buried or fossil glaciers, north greenland. (w. e. meehan, _philadelphia ledger_, .)--on robertson's bay is the plateau of the verhoef glacier, which is about meters long and meters wide, and stands back only a few meters from the edge of the sea. this plateau, both top and sides, is a mass of flourishing vegetation, chiefly grass, which reaches above a man's knee. from among this verdure buttercups, poppies, cinquefoils and dandelions thrust their golden heads in wild profusion. similar buried glaciers are found in many places along the fiords of north greenland. mr. meehan gives a simple explanation in connection with the verhoef glacier. he says that this glacier formerly extended out into the sea, and that while it moved forward, the clump moss, which struggles for existence in greenland gorges, could do little more than hold its own. in course of time, from some unknown cause, the glacier receded to the point where it now discharges, the part in the water floating away in the shape of icebergs, and the part on the shore remaining stationary. this was the opportunity for the clump mosses. caring nothing for the cold they crept slowly over the quiet mass of ice and made their way first in thin net-like layers, later in thick masses, till they reached the rocky shore. year after year the mosses grew, the young plants trampling underfoot the older; until the latter, rotting, turned into a rich mould. the seeds of grasses and flowers found their way to this, blown by the wind or carried on the feet of birds. the plateau now is a garden of green, gold and white. how long this will last it is impossible to say, as any time nature may unloose its hold, and the frozen river once more pour down into the bay. subsoil ice in alaska. (i. c. russell, _a journey up the yukon river_, page , and _second expedition to mount saint elias_, page .)--professor russell found ice covered by rocks and vegetation in several places in alaska, especially along the southern edge of the malaspina glacier and on the yukon river. he gives the following interesting account in of these ice sheets: "throughout the length of the yukon, one is frequently reminded of the high latitude drained by the great river, by seeing strata of ice in the recently cut banks, beneath the dense layer of moss and roots forming the surface on which the forests grow. one may frequently find ice even on a hot summer's day, by scraping away the moss at his feet. in some instances the frozen layer has been penetrated to the depth of twenty-five feet, but its full depth has never been ascertained. in the banks of some of the streams to the north of the lower yukon, strata of ice over a hundred feet thick have been observed, and the indications are that its total depth is considerably greater than the portion exposed. this subsoil ice is stagnant and without the characteristics of glaciers." subsoil ice in the klondike region. (_philadelphia ledger_, december th, .)--the klondike mining country is covered with snow most of the year. the ground is frozen for ten or twelve meters in depth, down to bed rock. in some places the ground, which is protected by a thick moss, is not thawed out by the sun in summer. the miner cuts off the moss with a shovel, and then builds a fire, which thaws out the ground for five or ten centimeters. he digs this out, rebuilds a fire, and then continues this process. ice cliffs on the kowak river, alaska. (lieutenant j. c. cantwell, _national geographic magazine_, october, .)--on the shores of the kowak river are a series of ice cliffs of from about meters to meters in height. on top of these ice cliffs is a layer of black silt-like soil some meters in thickness, and from this springs a luxuriant growth of mosses, grass and arctic shrubbery. the melted ice shows a residuum of fine dust, which while fresh emits a pungent odor. subterranean ice sheet on kotzebue sound. (otto von kotzebue, _entdeckungsreise in die südsee_, etc. weimar, . vol. iv., page .)--dr. eschholz discovered near kotzebue sound, in , a mass of ice more than meters thick, and entirely covered with a layer at least centimeters thick of clay, sand, and earth, on which heavy, long grass was growing. in the ice and in the soil overlaying it, were many remains of extinct animals. on the side towards the ocean the ice was entirely bare, exposed to sun and air, and much of it was melting away in streamlets. freezing lava caves, washington. (r. w. raymond, _overland monthly_, d november, , page . th. kirchhoff, _reisebilder und skizzen aus america_, , vol. ii., page . _philadelphia ledger_, september th, .)--these caves are distant about four hours from the foot of mount adams, and about kilometers from the mouth of the white salmon river, where it falls into the columbia river. the caves are in basalt, and they are connected at both ends with the open air. only a few of them contain any ice, which in the largest cave is about meters below the entrance, from which one descends by a ladder. the cave opens on one side and is some meters in depth, meters or meters in width and meters or meters in height. this part contains the most ice. the other side gradually narrows from the entrance, is longer, and reaches out through fallen rocks and rubbish to daylight. in the lower portion, there are a few ice stalactites and stalagmites: one a superb, transparent hillock, which rises nearly to the roof, is called the iceberg. a strong draught flows into the cave in summer through the open arm. the following paragraphs from the _philadelphia ledger_ probably refer to the same locality:-- "ice for the cutting, and that in august and early in september, is a novelty not often found in regions as far south as the columbia river basin; but the novelty is enjoyed every year by people who visit the ice caves under the shadow of mount adams, about miles northeast of portland. it is a very extensive region. frank mcfarland, who has just returned from a six weeks' vacation camping trip there, gives an interesting account of its general make up. "at the ice caves, which are six miles from trout lake, the stalactites are more beautiful and wonderful this year than ever before, and this was mr. mcfarland's fifteenth trip there. he broke off and took to camp chunks of ice weighing pounds. pleasure parties who come to the lake use considerable of the ice for packing their trout to take home. all you have to do is to take a torch of pitch pine or a lantern, and go into the big caves and pack off all the ice you want. it is a sure crop, and never fails." ice spring in the rocky mountains, oregon. (g. gibbs, _american journal of science and arts_, , second series, vol. xv., page .)--the ice spring is about kilometers from the south pass to the right of the sweetwater river. it is situated in a low marshy swale, where the ground is filled with springs; and about centimeters below the turf is a sheet of horizontal ice, some centimeters to centimeters thick, lasting throughout the year. the ice is clear and is disposed in hexagonal prisms; it has a slightly saline taste, the ground above it being impregnated with salt and the water near by tasting of sulphur. freezing lava caves in modoc county, california. (_dispatch_, frankford, pennsylvania, d january, , reprinted from another paper.)--the lava beds, where the modoc indians made their last stand against the united states troops, are described as an immense field of lava covered with a beautiful forest of conifers. numerous caves of varying shapes and dimensions are scattered throughout these lava beds. some are mere covert ways, with an arch of stone thrown over them; others are immense chambers some meters from the surface; another kind sinks deeply and may be in a series of chambers united by a corridor that opens at the surface; while another kind seems to go directly to the centre of the earth without stopping. some of these caves contain ice and from them the modocs drew their water supply while besieged by the troops. judging from what is reported of the caves the quantity of ice in them must be large. the thermometer in winter in the region is said to go as low as - ° c. freezing lava beds near medicine lake, siskiyou county, northern california. (m. s. baker, _sierra club bulletin_, . vol. ii., page .)--"one other feature of the lava region must be mentioned--the ice caves. there are several of these known, and very likely many more remain undiscovered. those located along the edge of the lava, near the cinder cone, i have known to contain ice and water as late as august. the largest i have seen is on the mayfield road, about twenty miles east of bartles. it is situated in the barren lava, and in one of the warmest localities of the region,--and there are few cool spots in the lava anywhere. one enters the cave by crawling down a hole none too large. the instant the interior is reached the temperature falls in a surprising way. not more than ten feet below the surface of the hot rocks is a bed of ice, covered by a foot or so of ice water. the body of ice was perhaps twelve or fifteen feet long, by five feet across in the widest places. this cave is formed by a fissure that extends a distance of twenty miles from the ice cave to pittville, and nearly coincides with the foot level, as shown in the map. along the southeastern half of this earth fissure the southwest wall has faulted, leaving a cliff, which, in places, must be nearly feet high." freezing shafts, montana.--mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal., has given me much information about glacières in montana. he visited one miners' shaft which is situated about kilometers up the rosebud river from rosebud station on the northern pacific r. r., and about kilometers northeast of the cheyenne indian agency. it is on the north slope of the little wolf mountains, near the summit, at the head of greenleaf creek. the canyon and surrounding slopes are covered with a dense growth of pine. the rock has the appearance of scoriæ caused by the burning of immense beds of coal in recent geological times. the rock is broken into comparatively small pieces. the altitude is some meters. the forest, the volcanic ash and the altitude, besides the loose rock formation, makes this place a natural ice house. ten or twelve years ago three prospectors, looking for silver, sunk a shaft here. at a depth of about meters it began to grow cold, and at meters they found ice and imagined they could feel an upward draught. being ignorant and superstitious, they became frightened and abandoned the shaft. during the winter, the snow fills the shaft half full of ice, which then remains over through the summer. there is a general report and belief among those who have visited the well, that it freezes in summer and thaws in winter. there are thousands of mining shafts in montana, and if they are on the north slope of a mountain of considerable altitude and under a dense forest and not too deep, they generally have ice at the bottom during the summer. it is also said to be nothing new for a miner in following crevices to find them filled with ice, especially if near the surface on the north slope of a mountain. freezing cave, fergus county, montana.--mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal., visited this place, which is about kilometers southeast of lewistown. it is on the north side of a butte. masses of ice and great icicles form in some parts of the cave in such quantities during the latter part of winter that the cave furnishes ice for cooling the drinking water for several dozen families. during july and august the people come from some distance around to get the ice. the people in the neighborhood believe that the ice forms in summer and thaws away in winter. they also speak of the ever upward draught of cold air coming possibly from some great hidden cavern in the lower recesses of the mountain. freezing well at horse plains, montana. (levi allen, _scientific american_. new series, th october, .)--the well is described as . meters deep. it is dug through solid gravel, and in sinking it there was encountered, at a depth of . meters, a current of air strong enough to blow out a candle. it began to freeze in september, , and in november it was frozen solid. freezing silver mine, bighorn county, wyoming.--this place is in the sunlight basin of the shoshone mountains. mr. william worrell wagner, of philadelphia, informs me that he visited it in august, . it is a silver mine or tunnel, running straight into the mountain for about meters, at an altitude of about meters. the peaks of the teton range were in sight from the mouth of the tunnel. for the first half of the way in, a good many icicles were hanging from the rocks. the last half of the tunnel was thickly coated with ice and looked like a cold storage plant. snow disappears on the rocks outside about june, and begins to fall again in september, so that mr. wagner's visit was at about the hottest time of the year. mr. wagner presented the meat of a bull wapiti he had shot to the miners, and they stored it in the mine as if it had been an artificial refrigerator. rifts of ice, mount mcclellan, colorado. (edward l. berthoud, _american journal of science and arts_. third series, , vol. xi., page .)--near the summit of mount mcclellan, is the centennial lode, which runs into the mountain, at an altitude of about meters. intercalated in the mineral vein are three or four well defined veins of solid ice parallel with the bedding of the rock and filling all its inner side-cracks and fissures. the same frozen substratum is found in two other lodes near by on the same mountain. nothing of the kind is known on other colorado mountains. the soil is loose and largely made up of rocky débris, which shows that the ice is probably due to local causes. freezing tunnel on the hagerman pass, colorado. (_philadelphia press_, october th, .)--the hagerman pass railroad line is said to have been abandoned after the completion of the busk-ivanhoe tunnel, but to have been rebuilt. the hagerman tunnel for a distance of over meters was filled with solid ice, and it required blasting with dynamite, and a month's continuous labor, day and night, to dig the ice out. freezing cavern in cow mountain, colorado. (_post dispatch_, st. louis, mo., july th, , and september th, . _mail order monthly_, st. paul, minn., october, .)--the cave was discovered by parties doing assessment work on a group of claims. a man was picking in a three meter hole when he struck his pick into an opening, which was gradually enlarged and showed a deep pit underneath. the men got a rope and descended into an immense cavern full of ice. later exploration led to a small hall, some meters in diameter, full of icicles. from here a fissure led into a second rock chamber larger than the first. a small hole in the floor at an angle of some ° gave access to a third and larger hall, about meters by meters. great masses of ice were found in this, also a small lake, about meters by meters. "some who have visited the wonderful discovery are of the opinion that it is a great cave or fissure in a glacier which for centuries has been slowly making its way down from pike's peak and whose waters are now feeding the arkansas river." windhole, arizona. (_christian herald_, march th, .)--mr. cofman, while drilling a well on his place, is said to have opened a windhole from which the escaping air current was strong enough to blow off the hats of the men who were recovering the lost drill. some days the air escapes with such force that pebbles the size of peas are thrown up, accompanied by a sound much like the distant bellowing of a fog horn. again for days there will be a suction current, unaccompanied by sound, in which the current of air passes into the earth with somewhat less force than when escaping, and any light object, as a feather or a piece of paper, will be immediately sucked in. the account is probably exaggerated. freezing lava cave near flagstaff, arizona.--professor w. b. scott of princeton university told me of this cave, which he had not visited himself. it lies . kilometers south of flagstaff, on the mesa table land, at an altitude of about meters. it was described to professor scott as a double cave, with two floors, one over the other, the lower containing the most ice. it is in lava, and can only be entered by crawling in on hands and knees. freezing cave or gorge, white mountains, arizona.--mr. frank hamilton cushing has told me of this place. it is a cleft among lava rock, which being roofed at the further end, might be described as a cave. in this the ice remains until june or july, much later than anywhere else in the neighborhood. the zuni indians worship before this, calling the ice the breath of the gods, the snow they consider as a sort of down. the region is arid, which makes any water precious, and this fact has developed the element of mysticism about snow and ice among the indians. freezing cave near galena, black hills, south dakota. (miss l. a. owen, _cave regions of the ozarks and black hills_. cincinnati, , page ): "at galena, a new mining town of golden promise, there is reported to be an ice cave, where ice forms at all seasons, and during the warm weather is a source of comfort and pleasure to the miners." windholes in the ozark mountains, missouri.--mr. h. f. brinckerhoff, of aurora, mo., informs me that there are a number of cold air current caves in the ozark mountain region. one of them is some kilometers south of aurora, lawrence county, and is used for cold storage in summer. there is a cave in a limestone bluff about meters above a river, and in the rear is this windhole, which is an opening about centimeters high and meters wide. a strong current of air comes out from it in summer, and the hotter the air outside, the stronger is the outward coming current. in winter the current is reversed. the outward current is so strong in very hot weather that a handkerchief held in it is straightened out to an angle of about °. freezing cave and well at decorah, iowa. described in part i. (dr. c. a. white, _report of geological survey of state of iowa_, , vol. i., page . a. f. kovarik, _scientific american supplement_, no. , november th, , pages , , , ). on june st, , dr. white found the ice dry and well frozen, and he thought it was then accumulating. the cave was cool and apparently dry, and no strong air current was passing through. mr. alois f. kovarik, of the decorah institute, has made a valuable series of observations about the decorah cave. the temperatures he observed were the following: in the valley, locus shade. division. glacialis. end. july , + . ° + . ° . ° . ° " , " + . ° + . ° . ° . ° aug. , " + . ° + . ° + . ° . ° sept. , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° " , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° oct. , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° " , " + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° dec. , " - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° jan. , - . ° - . ° - . ° . ° " , " - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° feb. , " - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° march , " + . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° " , " + . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° april , " + . ° - . ° + . ° - . ° " , " + . ° + . ° - . ° - . ° may , " + . ° + . ° - . ° . ° june , " + . ° + . ° - . ° . ° " , " + . ° + . ° - . ° . ° july , " + . ° + . ° . ° + . ° on the st of july, , a cold breeze was noticed coming from the cave to a distance of at least meters. at the entrance the breeze was strong enough to blow out a candle. this breeze was not noticed at other times. from december to february inclusive, on the contrary, the breeze was reversed. from july to october, , the walls of the cave were moist. from october to february they were dry. in february frost began to appear on the walls. on march th, , the walls were covered with frost. the ice appeared at a spot nearly at the end of the cave on the th of march, . at a place about . meters nearer the entrance, however, is where most ice forms. this place mr. kovarik calls _locus glacialis_. the ice appeared here about the th of may, . it increased rapidly up to june th, when it was at its maximum, and was about two meters in width. it generally covers the north wall from top to base. the greatest thickness in was centimeters. the temperature which mr. kovarik recorded on the th of april at _locus glacialis_ of + . seems an anomalous one. on writing to him he sent me the following explanation: "april th, after i left the thermometer at _locus glacialis_ the usual time, i noticed that it registered + . ° c. it seemed singular, for at both the division and the end, the thermometer registered considerably lower. i left the thermometer at its place for about an hour longer, and noticed then that it did not register differently. i would suggest this explanation: this is true about water that upon freezing it gives off its latent heat. now on april th some water dripped into the cave on the wall near where the thermometer was, about . meters from the floor. the amount of water was very small, but as it came in contact with the cold wall it began to give out its latent heat which affected the close by thermometer. the temperature of the rock was without doubt between - .° and - °." freezing cavern at brainard, iowa. (alois f. kovarik, _decorah public opinion_, september th, .)--this little cave is situated on the north side of a hill about . kilometers northwest of brainard. it is about . meters deep. on june th, , mr. kovarik found the floor and walls covered with ice. the temperature was ° c. the owner claims to have taken enough ice out of it on july th, , to freeze cream. freezing cave near elkinsville, brown county, indiana. (clipping from a western newspaper, .)--the entrance is said to be overlapped by trees and to resemble a mine shaft. the winding way leads to a hollow some meters below the surface, resembling a broad vaulted corridor, which is known to the natives as the devil's chamber and where the temperature is low. from this point several galleries lead further in, and from one of them comes a blast of icy cold air. this passage is similar to the one at the entrance to the cave, but after a few meters frost is visible, and further on it is thick on all sides, like the crust that is formed on the pipes of an ice plant. the narrow way leads to a big chamber, known as the ice vault. in this dome, which is fully meters in width, the ice forms a large stalagmite and is of unknown depth. freezing gully on mount abraham, maine. (jackson, _report of the geology of maine_, , iii.)--ice was found in june at an altitude of meters among the boulders in one of the gullies of mount abraham. [illustration: freezing cavern at brainard. from a photograph by mr. a. f. kovarik. ] subterranean ice in king's ravine, mount adams, new hampshire.--described in part i., page . ice gulch on crescent mountain, randolph, new hampshire.--described in part i., page . ice in a hole at dixville notch, new hampshire.--mr. john ritchie, jr., of boston, has examined this place, which he is sure is a refrigerator. it is in a hole north of the cliff and near its top. ice on mount garfield, new hampshire.--mr. john ritchie, jr., informs me that ice was discovered among the boulders on the summit of mount garfield during the summer of . freezing talus near rumney, new hampshire.--described in part i., page . freezing talus near north woodstock, new hampshire.--mr. john ritchie, jr., has examined this locality. he thinks the ice was gone in july, but judges it to be on the level of an old talus and a couple of meters down. freezing well at lyman, grafton county, new hampshire. (_geology of vermont_, , i., page .)--a well in that town is reported as having been frozen solid in june, , at a depth of about . meters from the surface. icy wells at the foot of mount mansfield, vermont. (n. m. lowe, _science observer_, vol. ii., page .)--these are described as being really "incipient caves." freezing cave near manchester, vermont.--described in part i., page . ice bed of wallingford, rutland county, vermont. described in part i., page . (s. pearl lathrop, _american journal of science and arts_, , xlvi., page .)--dr. lathrop says that ice has been found at the ice bed as late as september. freezing wells at brandon, vermont. described in part i., page . (_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--mr. hager says that the well was dug into a mass of sand and gravel, of the kind known as modified drift. the gravel was frozen at the time of digging. the boston natural history society, in , sank two wells, one meters southeast of the original one, the other meters northwest. the first was meters in depth and did not reach ice; the second was meters in depth, and came to the layer of frozen gravel. cave near brandon, vermont. (_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--mr. hager heard that about kilometers north of brandon village was a cavern, in a hill, in which ice is found most of the summer. icy gulf near great barrington, massachusetts.--mentioned in part i., page . icy glen near stockbridge, massachusetts.--described in part i., page . the snow hole, new york: near williamstown, massachusetts. described in part i., page . (dewey, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. i., page ; and , vol. v., page .)--mr. dewey found, in june, snow meters deep on ice of unknown depth. on his second visit he found less ice and snow than on his first visit, as the trees in the neighborhood had been cut down. glacière near williamstown, massachusetts.--described in part i., page . freezing well near ware, massachusetts.--(_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--depth . meters. this is in a sand and gravel formation much like that at brandon, except that there is less clay, and that none of the pebbles are limestone. wolfshollow near salisbury, connecticut. (c. a. lee, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. viii., page .)--in the eastern portion of the township, at an altitude of about meters, is a chasm about meters long, meters deep and meters wide. it is in mica-slate, and is sheltered by large trees. at the bottom at one end is a spring of cold water and a cave of considerable extent, in which ice and snow is found the greater part of the year. natural ice house, near meriden, connecticut. (benjamin silliman, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. iv., page .)--it lies between new haven and hartford, about kilometers from the sea, at an altitude of about meters. the ice is found in a narrow defile of perpendicular trap rock, at the bottom filled with broken stones. the defile is so placed that in summer the sun only shines into it for about an hour each day; it is also well protected by surrounding trees, the leaves from which form beds at the bottom among the rocks and help to protect the ice. natural ice house of northford, connecticut. (benjamin silliman, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. iv., page .)--about kilometers from new haven on the middletown road between branford and northford, is a gorge where ice remains throughout the year. in this case the ice is mixed with a considerable quantity of leaves and dirt; it has sometimes been brought to new haven. ice in an old iron mine, near port henry, lake champlain. (_geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page .)--ice was found during the summer at a depth of from meters to meters, and a current of cold air was issuing from the opening. there seems to be more than one opening to the mine. freezing talus on lower ausable pond, essex county, new york.--described in part i., page . freezing talus at the south base of the giant of the valley, essex county, new york.--described in part i., page . freezing boulder talus, indian pass, new york. see part i., page . freezing boulder talus, avalanche pass, new york.--see part i., page . freezing cave near carlisle, new york.--see part i., page . ice among the catskill mountains, new york.--mr. george brinton phillips informs me that he has seen subterranean ice in august among boulders in a gorge in the catskills near the stony cloves road, starting out from haines' falls. the people in the neighborhood speak of the place as an ice cave. gorge in the shawangunk mountains, near ellenville, ulster county, new york. described in part i., page . (heilprin, _around the world_, , page .)--professor heilprin found in july a mass of ice measuring about thirty meters in length and meter in depth. the thermometer near the ice read about ° c. above freezing point, the day being hot. icicles hung from the ledges on the side of the gorge. freezing gorge at sam's point, new york.--see part i., page . ice deposits and windholes at watertown, new york.--described in part i., page . freezing well near tioga, new york.--depth, meters. no information. freezing well near prattsburg, new york.--depth, . meters. no information. freezing well near owego, new york. described in part i., page . (d. o. macomber, _american journal of arts and sciences_, , vol. xxxvi., page . _well's annual of scientific discovery_, , page .)--the thermometer is said to have stood at-- . ° at the bottom of the biggest well when it registered-- ° outside. when a candle was let down, the flame became agitated and was thrown in one direction at the depth of meters; at the bottom the flame was still, but soon died out. large masses of ice were found in the biggest well as late as july, and the men who made the well were forced to put on thick clothing in june, and even so could not work for more than two hours at a time. cave in the panama rocks, chautauqua, new york. the rev. horace c. hovey informs me that he has been in a small cave in this locality, and that he found ice in it. cave in sussex county, new jersey.--a clipping from a newspaper, with neither name nor date, says that new ice is found daily on the land of peter feather, in the mouth of an unexplored cavern. a small stream of water runs out of the cavern and forms a pool at the opening, and here it is that the ice forms. enough has been taken in one day to freeze two cans of ice cream. a cold draught of air issues continuously from the cavern. hole containing ice on blue mountain, new jersey. reported; no information. gorge containing ice on bald eagle mountain, clinton county, pennsylvania.--mr. henry chapman mercer, of doylestown, learned of the existence of this gorge during the summer of . it is near the village of mcelhatten, in the neighborhood of lock haven, and is some kilometers distant from the susquehanna river. ice is said to remain over during the entire summer. freezing cave and windholes near farrandsville, clinton county, pennsylvania.--described in part i., page . underground ice formations, sullivan county, pennsylvania, on the southwestern borders of lycoming county.--mr. w. coleman hall of philadelphia, about twenty years ago, found ice in two or three places, on bear creek, north of muncy creek, about kilometers north of the susquehanna river, and southwest of eagles mere. the ice was under rocks, in what may be described as limestone sinks. since the destruction of the forest, the ice has become less abundant, if indeed any still forms. glacières in abandoned coal mines near summit, carbon county, pennsylvania.--described in part i., page . ice cave railroad station, luzerne county, pennsylvania. on the bowman creek branch of the lehigh valley r. r.--mr. f. holschuh, agent at luzerne, informs me that about kilometers from ice cave station is a little waterfall on the side of a mountain which was formerly covered with dense forest. a short distance below the fall, a large hollow place has been worn out of the rocks by the action of the water. the overhanging rocks give this almost the appearance of a cave. while the forest was still thick and when the winter was cold, ice would form under these rocks and would not disappear until summer was well advanced. the station was called ice cave on account of this place. hole containing ice at millerstown, pennsylvania.--reported; no information. freezing talus at spruce creek, huntingdon county, pennsylvania. described in part i., page . the _philadelphia ledger_ of july th, , states that around the boulders where the ice lies, there are found varieties of plants strongly arctic in character. ice mountain, hampshire county, virginia. (c. b. hayden, _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xlv., page .)--it lies on the north river, near the road leading from winchester to romney, at an altitude of from about meters to meters. one side of the hill is entirely composed of loose stones, among which an abundance of ice is found at all times, although the sun shines on the upper surface of the stones from ten in the morning until sunset. the ice is regularly used in summer by the people near by. constant and strong air currents issue from the crevices in the rocks. similar, but smaller accumulations, are said to occur in the same county. mrs. george b. balch visited the ice mountain in august, . she saw no ice, but the air under the stones was very cold. blowing cave, bath county, virginia.--mrs. horace jayne informs me that there is a blowing cave near the cowpasture river, about half way on the old stage road between millboro and warm springs. a draught flows out from it, strong enough to blow the grass about, three or four meters away. the draught is cold, perhaps abnormally so. the cave has not yet been explored. south america. ice sheets on mount chimborazo. (a. von humboldt, _travels to the equinoctial regions_, london, , vol. i., page .)--"on chimborazo, enormous heaps of ice are found covered with sand, and in the same manner as at the peak [of teneriffe] far below the inferior limit of the perpetual snows." tierra del fuego. (a. winchel, _walks and talks_, , page .)--"on tierra del fuego ice and lava are found interstratified for a great depth, each winter's snow being covered by a new lava sheet." teneriffe. la cueva de la nieve or del hielo. (humboldt, _travels to the equinoctial regions_, , vol. i., pages , . c. piazzi smyth, _teneriffe, an astronomer's experiment_, , page .)--la cueva de la nieve lies at an altitude of meters in the malpays on the peak of teneriffe, just below the snow line. it is in obsidian. the entrance is . meters high and . meters broad. the grotto is meters long, meters wide, and meters high. the descent into the cave is so steep that it is necessary to be lowered by ropes. professor smyth found in july an ice floor about centimeters thick which was covered with water. a good deal of snow was lying near the mouth of the cave. the walls were covered with ice and icicles and a few small ice cones rose on the ice floor. iceland. the surtshellir or cave of surtur. (olafsen and povelsen, _voyage en islande_, paris, . henderson, _iceland_, , d ed., page . guimard, _voyage en islande_, page .)--the surtshellir lies in the volcanic waste of westisland, and is in lava which has flowed from the bald jokul. the approach is through an open chasm. the length of the cave is meters, with an average width of from meters to meters, and a nearly uniform height of from meters to meters. in four places the roof is broken and allows daylight to enter. a great deal of ice is sometimes found in the cave, in the shape of an ice floor, transparent icy pillars, hanging icy pendants, and columns and arches of ice along the walls. some of the pillars have been found . meters high. kutlagaya. (a. winchel, _walks and talks_, , page .)--"in the crater of the mountain kutlagaya, in iceland, hurled out simultaneously into the air lumps of lava and ice, all intermingled together." scandinavia. ice in the mines of nordmark. (jars, _voyages métallurgiques_, , page .)-- kilometers north of philipstadt, wermeland, sweden, a number of holes were dug, some to a depth of meters. ice of some thickness formed in some of these towards the end of winter, and lasted until about september, despite the fires of the workmen. persberg iron mines, sweden. (j. prestwich, _collected papers_, etc., on page , quotes dr. clark's _travels in scandinavia._)--ice is said to have been found on the sides and bottom of the mine to a depth of about meters. ice caves reported in norway.--i was told in norway that some of the caves in the mountains near the swartisen ice field contained ice, but i do not know whether this is true. i suspect that there are glacier ice caves which have given rise to this report. england. helvellyn, cumberland. (wordsworth, _fidelity_.)--the following verses were pointed out to me by mr. bunford samuel. as far as i know they are the only poetry about glacières:-- "it was a cove, a huge recess that keeps, till june, december's snow; a lofty precipice in front, a silent tarn below! far in the bosom of helvellyn, remote from public road or dwelling pathway or cultivated land from trace of human foot or hand." ice in an old copper mine, cumberland. (j. clifford ward, _nature_, vol. xi., page .)--ice reported as a rare occurrence. ludchurch chasm, staffordshire. (r. k. dent and joseph hill's _historic staffordshire_, quote dr. plot, .)--mr. bunford samuel called my attention to this book, in which dr. plot is quoted as saying that as late as the th of july, snow has been found in ludchurch chasm. messrs. dent and hill do not mention anything of the kind as occurring now. blowing cave in denbighshire, wales.--a newspaper cutting says that there are such strong eruptions of winds from a cave in this neighborhood as to toss back to a great height in the air any article of apparel thrown in. tin croft mine, cornwall. (j. prestwich, _collected papers_, etc., page , quotes mr. moyle.)--ice has been found in abundance in this mine at a depth of nearly meters. central europe. glacière de chaux-les-passavant. described in part i., page . (poissenot, _nouvelles histoires tragiques de benigne poissenot, licencié aux lois. a paris, chez guillaume bichon, rue s. jacques, a l'enseigne du bichot, , avec privilege du roy_, pages - . gollut, _les mémoires historiques de la repub. sequanoise, et des princes de la franche comté de bourgogne, par m. lois gollut, advocat au parlement de dôle; a dôle, _. trouillet, _mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs, _. girardot, _mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs, _.) the earliest notice of a glacière which i have been able to find is in the shape of a letter giving an account of a visit to the glacière de chaux-les-passavant in , by benigne poissenot, a french lawyer. the account, which i have translated as literally as possible, is in a special chapter, as follows:-- "sir:--since our separation, i have had this pleasure (_heut_) to hear news of you only once, having found your brother in paris; who, having assured me of your good health (_disposition_), informed me of how since we had seen each other you had travelled to italy, even as far as greece, of which you had seen a large portion: and that sound and safe, after so long a journey, you had reappeared and landed at havre de grace where you wished to go, that is to say at home. all the pleasure which a friend can receive, knowing the affairs of another self, joined to such a happy result, seized my heart, at the recital of such agreeable news: and i did not fail shortly after, to write you amply all which had happened to me since i left you until my return to france: congratulating you at having escaped from marine abysses and perilous passages on land, on which travellers are often constrained to risk their life. from this time, i have always stayed in paris or in the neighborhood, according to the good pleasure of dame fortune, who ruled me in her wise and fed me with her dishes the most common and ordinary until the first day of january of the year , when i received my first gift in the shape of a strong and violent disease, which tormented me more than a month: from which, having become cured with the help of god, and having with time recovered my health and my strength at the arrival of spring, i was seized with the desire to smell the air of the country. and in fact having thrown away my pen and travelled about (_battu l'estrade_) through high and low burgundy, i stopped at bezenson, imperial city, to spend the summer. this city is still to day just the same as julius cæsar describes it, in the notable mention he makes of it, in the first book of his commentaries of the war in gaul, there remaining there all the vestiges of the most remarkable things, which he tells of in his description. there are also very fine fountains, from all of which water streams from the representation of some god of antiquity, as a neptune, a bacchus, a pan, a nereide or others: except before the state house, where the statue of charles the fifth, representing him in a most natural manner, is placed on an eagle, which from its beak, pours out such a great quantity of water that this is the most beautiful, among all the other fountains. and as i do not doubt that while traversing italy, you both saw and examined with curiosity the most handsome singularities, which presented themselves to your eyes and that on your return, passing through avignon and dauphiné, as your brother informed me, you had the advantage over me of seeing the wonders of the country, of which you had heard me speak sometimes, regretting that the war, during the time i was in that quarter, had prevented my going to the spot, to see the burning fountain as in dodone, and the fountain called jupiter, which torches of fire light up and which grows less till midday and then grows till midnight, and then diminishes and fails at midday: and another in epirus which we call to day albania, the tower without venom and the inaccessible mountain: then as i said, since you have contemplated these things and several others not less admirable, i wish to entertain you about a marvel which i saw, during my sojourn in bezenson, to know from you, whether in all your journey, you saw a similar thing. know then that the day of the festival of st. john baptist, a young man, provided with an honest knowledge, with whom i had made some little acquaintance, presented me with an icicle, to cool my wine at dinner, and which i admired greatly, on account of the time of the year in which we then were, begging him who gave it to me to tell me where he had discovered this rare present for that time. he answered me that every year, the day of the solemnity of the festival of st. john baptist, the inhabitants of a village, which he named, were bound to come to offer the great church of st. john of bezenson, a goodly quantity of ice, which they got in a wood, and brought to town at night on horses, for fear that by day it should melt, and that one of his cronies had given to him what he had given to me. "suddenly there flamed up in me a desire to see this place, where in the height of the summer, ice was to be found. when he who had presented me with the icicle saw this, he promised to accompany me, not having as yet, any more than myself, seen this marvel. i did not hatch very long this decision, all the more as all those, to whom i mentioned it, encouraged me to carry it out as soon as i could, assuring me that i should see a strange thing, and that even the duke of alva on his return from flanders, passing through franche comté, had wished to see this novelty. therefore calling on the promise of the one who was the cause of undertaking this journey, we went together to versey, a fine town, distant five leagues from bezenson, turning a little off our direct route, to go to see a literary man, at this said versey, who having called on me at bezenson, had extracted from me the promise of going to see him. there happened to me in this spot, what the poet du bellay says happened to him, on his return from italy, passing through the grisons, to go into france: who, after having chanted the troubles there are in the passage, says that the swiss made him drink so much, that he does not remember anything he saw in that country. likewise, i can assure you that my host, following the custom of those of the country (who do not think they are treating a man properly if they do not make him drink a lot, taking that from the germans, their neighbors) made us carouse so well, that when we went to bed, we were very gay boys. for although we had both made an agreement on the road, yet our host knew so well how to win us over, saying that those who would not drink, gave reason to think badly of them, and that they had committed, or wished to commit some great crime, which they feared to give away in drinking, that in the end we let ourselves go, passing the time in pantagruelic fashion. the next morning having taken some "hair from the beast" and a guide which our host gave to us to conduct us to the _froidiere_--we continued our wanderings, and arrived at a little village called chaud, joining a large wood, where our guide told us, that although he had been more than six times to the _froidiere_, yet the road was so tortuous and so cut up by small paths, that if we did not take a man from this village, to be more sure, we might spend more than half a day in the wood, before finding what we were seeking. getting off our horses now, we added to our company a native of the place, who having led us by crooked roads, about a quarter of a league, through the forest, made us enter into a close thicket and by a little path led us to a pleasant meadow; where, looking down, we saw a hole, of difficult descent, at the bottom of which was the opening of a grotto, pretty big, and so awful and terrifying to see, that one would have said, it was the mouth of hell. and in truth, i remembered then, the hole of st. patrick, which is said to be in hibernia. we were not brave enough knights, to try the adventure, my companion and i, if our guides had not taken the lead. after whom we descended as magnanimously as the trojan duke followed the sybil to the plutonic realms, the sword half drawn from the scabbard, and well determined to make test of the platonic doctrine, which teaches that demons can be dissected, in case any shade or spook should have come to meet us. about the middle of the way, we began to feel in descending a very agreeable freshness; for it was the second day of july and the sun shone very warmly, which made us sweat drop by drop. but we had good opportunity to refresh ourselves and put ourselves to cool, having reached the grotto which we found of the length and breadth of a large hall, all paved with ice in the bottom, and where a crystalline water, colder than that of the mountains of arcadia nonacris, streamed from many small brooklets, which formed very clear fountains, with the water of which i washed myself and drank so eagerly, that i had wished the thirst of tantalus, or else that i had been bitten by a dipsas, in order to be always thirsty, amid such a pleasant beverage. a great lord, who in some pleasure resort, should have such a refrigerator in summer, could boast according to my judgment, to be better provided with drink, than the kings of persia were with their river coaspis, which engulphs itself into the tigris, the water whereof was so sweet, that the use of it was allowed only to the great king, for the retinue and cronies of his household. do not think, that among these delights, i was at all free from fear, for never did i raise my eyes above that from terror my whole body shivered and the hair stood up on my head, seeing the whole roof of the grotto, covered with big massive icicles, the least of which, falling on me, had been sufficient to scramble up my brains and knock me to pieces; so much so that i was like to that criminal, whom they say is punished in hell, by the continual fear of a big stone, which seems as though it must suddenly fall on his ears. there are besides the large hall of the grotto, some rather roomy corners, where the gentlemen of the neighborhood, put their venison to cool in summer, and we saw the hooks, where they hang the wild fowl. it is true, that when we were there, we saw neither game nor wild fowl, and i think, that if we had found any of it, we were men to carry off some of it. we walked around for about a quarter of an hour, in this _froidiere_ and we should have staid there longer if the cold had not driven us out; which struck in to our backs, even to make our teeth crack; we reascended the slope, not forgetting, all of us as many as we were, to provide and load ourselves with ice, which served us at lunch in the little village mentioned above to drink most delightfully, assuring you that it is impossible to drink more freshly than we drank then. i thought of those old voluptuaries, who cooled their wine with snow, and it seemed to me, as though they might have had it much cheaper if in their time there had been many such _froidieres_, to refresh it with ice, instead of with snow, as some of the gentlemen of the neighborhood of the _froidiere_ and some of the most notable persons of the neighborhood of bezenson do; who by night, have a good supply brought on horses, which they keep in their caves, and use at their meals and banquets. turning back towards the imperial city of bezenson, i carried for about two great leagues, a rather large icicle in my hands, which little by little melted and was a pleasant and agreeable cooler, on account of the great heat of the weather. after having thought over in my mind, the cause of this _antiperistase_, i could find none other but this: to wit, that as heat domineers in summer, the cold retires to places low and subterranean, such as is this one, to which the rays of the sun cannot approach, and that in such an aquatic and humid place, it operates the results, which we have shown above. which seemed to me so much more likely, that on asking the peasants of the neighboring village, if in winter there was ice in this _froidiere_, they answered me that there was none, and that on the contrary, it was very warm there. whatever may be the cause, whether this or another, i can assure you, that i admired this singularity as much as any i have seen, since a large church, cut into a rock which i had seen a few years previously, in a little town of gascony called st. milion, distant seven leagues from bordeaux; on the steeple of which is the cemetery, where they bury the dead; a thing to be marvelled at by him who has not seen it. "i have made trial, to enrich this missive, with all the artifice which has come into my head, using the leisure, which the present time brings me: as the temple of janus is open, the air beyond breathing nothing but war: which forces me, against my wish, to sojourn in this place longer than i had intended. if these troubles settle down, and if after the rain, god sends us fine weather as requires the calamitous state in which is now the flat country, i shall return to my parnassus; from which if i go out hereafter, believe that it will be very much in spite of myself, or that my will will have very much changed. you will be able to let me hear from you there, and take your revenge for the prolixity of this letter, by sending me one still longer, which you will write to me with more pleasure, as i shall take much in reading it. however as it is becoming time to sound taps, i will pray the sovereign creator for my affectionate recommendations to your graces. "sir, and best friend, may you keep in health and have a long and happy life. from sens this th of june . "your obedient friend, benigne poissenot. "end of the description of the marvel, called the _froidiere_." the next notice about the glacière de chaux-les-passavant is by gollut in , as follows:-- [sidenote: "ices in summer."] "i do not wish however to omit (since i am in these waters) to bring to mind the commodity, which nature has given to some dainty men, since at the bottom of a mountain of leugné ice is found in summer, for the pleasure of those who wish to drink cool. nevertheless at this time, this is disappearing, for no other reason (as i think) except, that they have despoiled the top of the mountain, of a thick and high mass of woods, which did not permit that the rays of the sun came to warm the earth, and dry up the distillations, which slipped down to the lowest and coldest part of the mountain where (_by antiperistase_) the cold got thicker, and contracted itself against the heats surrounding and in the neighborhood during the whole summer, all the external circumference of the mountain." the ice at chaux-les-passavant is said to have been entirely cleared out, by the duc de lévi, in , for the use of the army of the saone. in , when de cossigny visited the cave, the ice was formed again. there are no reports about the intervening time between and . the ice probably all re-formed the winter after it was taken away. captain trouillet in writes of chaux-les-passavant: "the following winter had shown itself unfavorable to the production of ice, the periods of humidity preceding too long ahead the periods of frost. finally last summer, coming after a wet spring, was exceptionally warm. such were the circumstances which brought about in the glacière the ruin which could be seen at the end of last october. * * * on the th of november, the first effects of frost are felt and the temperature falls in the glacière to - °: outside the thermometer drops to - °. on the morning of the th, same result, and ice makes its appearance in the grotto, as the report of the observer shows: but the quantity produced is so small that the internal thermometer soon goes above °. it is only on the th of december that the frost wins definitely; on the th, th and th the chill is intense and reaches - ° outside, stopping at - ° in the glacière. the water coming from the rains between the th and the th drip at this time through the roof and the big side crevasse: circumstances grow favorable and the ice accumulates. from the th, the entrance slope becomes almost impracticable; the icicles grow on the roof, as big as the body of a man. * * * from this time to the end of december, the ice sheet does not increase, for water only arrives by the rare drip of the roof, and only the stalactites increase slowly. outside, however, the cold continues vigorously, the thermometer on the st of december dropping to - ° and to - ° in the glacière. if the production of the ice stops, it is not the cold which is wanting, but the other element, the one which as our former study showed, is the most rarely exact at the meeting. the winter is only favorable on condition that it offers alternating periods of freezing and thawing; so the observer writes in his report: 'it is the water which is wanting, otherwise the glacière would be magnificent.'" trouillet speaks of the difficulty of winter observations in the following words: "mons. briot, the present lessor of the glacière, has the unpaid mission of going every week to the bottom of the grotto to get and put in place the interior thermometer. it is a really hard piece of work at this time of the year: each journey takes about one hour. besides the chance that a visitor has of receiving on his head one of those magnificent stalactites meter or meters long which fall continually from the roof, it is perfectly disagreeable to him to arrive at the base of the slope otherwise than on the sole of his boots, and to face thus the frequent and painful meeting with rocks whose angular edges dot the surface of the descent, smooth as a mirror set at an angle of °." trouillet and girardot obtained a series of observations with maxima and minima thermometers at chaux-les-passavant during the winter of - . at the end of november the temperature inside was + °. on the d of december it rose to + . °. on the th of december, it sank to - °, and after this date, it remained below freezing point all winter. the observations were not continuous, but they showed that every time the temperature outside dropped considerably, the temperature inside immediately did likewise. for instance, on the th of january, the outside air dropped to - °, and the inside air responded by falling to - °. on the other hand, when the temperature outside rose above freezing point, the temperature inside remained stationary or fluctuated only gently. for instance, from the th of march to the th of april, the outside air went up and down perpetually, the extremes being - ° and + °; while in the same time the inside air rose continuously from - ° to - . °. windholes and ice formations near gérardmer, vosges. (rozet, in _encyclopédie moderne_, didot frères, paris, , vol. xvi., page .) l'abime du creux-percé or glacière de pasques. (martel, _les abimes_, , page ; _annuaire du club alpin français_, vol. xix., page .)--on the plateau of langres, côte d'or. it lies kilometers from dijon, and is really a limestone rock gorge, of meters in depth, which at the top is meters long and meters wide, and at the bottom is meters long and meters wide. in march , mons. martel found the north side covered with large icicles meters long. the ice seems to remain throughout the year. the bottom of the abime has been reached only by means of two long rope ladders. creux de chevroche or roche chèvre, côte d'or. (clément drioton, _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, , vol. i., page .)--"in the woods of mavilly, near bligny-sur-ouches, is a little cave, called creux de chevroche or roche-chèvre, where one can find ice until the month of july." freezing well of marolles, at la ferté-milon, aisne. (martel, _les abimes_, page , note .)--this well is . meters deep; the altitude is meters. during the winter of - the water in it froze for a thickness of centimeters. the minimum outside temperature that year was - °. windholes near pontgibaud, puy de dome. (g. poulett-scrope, _the geology and extinct volcanoes of central france_, , page .)--these windholes are in basalt. there are many cracks, whence cold air currents issue, and where ice has been found, sometimes in summer. there are cold storage huts over some of the cracks. le creux-de-souci, puy de dome. (martel, _les abimes_, , page .)--this is situated kilometers southeast of besse-en-chandesse. it is a large lava cavern with the entrance directly in the middle of the roof. the bottom is partly filled by a lake. the depth from the surface of the ground to the lake is meters; from the smallest part of the opening to the lake the depth is . meters. down this last portion one can descend only by means of a rope ladder. the temperature is extremely low; in general near freezing point. in june, july, august and november , monsieur berthoule, _maire_ of besse, did not find any snow. on the th of august, , on the contrary, he found at the bottom a heap of snow, which he thinks was formed in the cave itself, by the freezing during their descent of the drops of water which are constantly dripping from the roof. he reports landing on _une montagne de neige, de neige blanche_. on several visits, mons. berthoule noticed carbonic acid gas in dangerous quantities. there was none at the time he observed the snow heap, but ten days later he found it impossible to descend into the cave as the carbonic acid gas came up in puffs to the entrance. in the lake, mons. berthoule discovered a variety of rotifer, _notholca longispina_, and also several algæ and diatoms. the _asterionella formosa_ is the most remarkable from its abundance: it exists in some of the lakes of the alps, but not in those of the pyrenees. aven de lou cervi, vaucluse. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--this is a cold cave. it belongs to the class which mons. martel calls _avens à rétrécissement_, or _abimes à double orifice_. in september, , mons. martel noted a temperature of . ° at meters; of . ° at meters. mean temperature of locality, . °. igue de biau, lot. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperature on th july, : °. fosse mobile, charente. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperature on th april, : °. aven de deidou, causse méjean. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperatures on th october, : outside air, °; at bottom, . °. aven des oules, causse méjean. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--cold cave. temperatures on st october, : outside air, . °; at bottom, °. windhole cold caves near roquefort, aveyron.--they lie kilometers from millau, at an altitude of about meters, and are utilized in the manufacture of roquefort cheese. aven de carlet, near la roche giron, basses alpes. (martel, _les abimes_, page .)--lumps of ice are reported to have been taken from it. la poujade, cévennes. (martel, _les abimes_, pages - .)--an intermittent spring in limestone rock. at the bottom of the first gallery, on the th of september, , the temperature of the air was . °, and that of a pool of water supplied by drip . °. mons. martel thought that the drip brought to the pool the mean annual temperature of the ground through which it had come. a little further within and meters lower, the temperature of the air was . ° and that of another pool of water . °. this pool was not supplied by drip and must have been left over by the last flow of the spring. mons. martel thought that the lower temperatures at this spot were due to the cold air of winter dropping to the bottom of the cave and on account of its density not being able to get out. snow preserved in chasms in the italian mountains. (_the penny magazine_, london, august, , page .)--mr. bunford samuel called my attention to an article in which the southern italians are said to dig wells or cellars on the mountain sides, and to throw snow into them in winter. the snow is well pressed together and straw, dried leaves, etc., is thrown on top. by having a northern exposure for these pits, and seeing that they are in thick forest, or in rifts where the sun does not penetrate, these depots may be safely placed as low down the mountain as the snow falls and lies. naples is largely supplied [ ] with snow in summer from such snow wells situated on monte angelo, the loftiest point of the promontory separating the bay of naples from the bay of salerno. cold caves of san marino, apennines. (de saussure, _voyages dans les alpes_, , iii., page .)--these are probably windholes. la bocche dei venti di cesi. (de saussure, _voyages dans les alpes_, , iii., page .)--these windholes were in the cellar of the house of don giuseppe cesi, in the town of cesi. the cellar acted as a natural refrigerator. the air stream was so strong, that it nearly blew out the torches. in winter the wind rushed into the holes. de saussure was shown the following latin verses by the owner:-- "abditus hic ludit vario discrimine ventus et faciles miros exhibet aura jocos. nam si bruma riget, quaecumque objeceris haurit. evomit aestivo cum calet igne dies," windholes or "ventarole" on monte testaceo, near rome. (de saussure, _voyages dans les alpes_, , iii., page .)--there are a number here among heaps of broken pottery. the temperatures seem abnormally low. krypta sorana. (kircher, _mundus subterraneus_, , page and page .)--this has been spoken of as a glacière cave, but as there is much doubt in the matter, i quote the passages, on which the reports are based, in the original latin: "cryptae sunt naturales, quarum innumerae sunt species, juxta vires naturales iis inditas. sunt nonnullae medicinali virtute praeditae, quaedam metallicis vaporibus, exhalationibus, aquis scatent, sunt et glaciales, plenae nivibus et crystallo, uti in monte sorano me vidisse memini." and further: "vidi ego in monte sorano cryptam veluti glacie incrustatam, ingentibus in fornice hinc inde stiriis dependentibus, e quibus vicini montis accolae pocula aestivo tempore conficiunt, aquae vinoque, quae iis infunduntur, refrigerandis aptissima, extremo rigore in summas bibentium delicias commutato." subterranean ice sheet, mount etna, sicily. (lyell, _principles of geology, th edition_, chapter xxvi.)--this ice sheet is near the casa inglese. sir charles lyell ascertained the fact of its existence in , and in he found the same mass of ice, of unknown extent and thickness, still unmelted. in the beginning of the winter of , lyell found the crevices in the interior of the summit of the highest cone of etna encrusted with thick ice, and in some cases hot vapors actually streaming out between masses of ice and the rugged and steep walls of the crater. lyell accounts for this ice sheet by the explanation that there must have been a great snow bank in existence at the time of an eruption of the volcano. this deep mass of snow must have been covered at the beginning of the eruption by volcanic sand showered on it, followed by a stream of lava. the sand is a bad conductor of heat and together with the solidified lava, preserved the snow from liquefaction. glacière on the moncodine. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the moncodine is described as a dolomite near the lago di como. the cave lies up the val sasina, two hours from cortenuova, at an altitude of meters. the entrance faces north, and is . meters high and . meters wide. the average diameter of the cave is meters. the floor is solid ice, which has been sometimes cut for use in the hotels on the lago di como and even been sent to milan. la ghiacciaia del mondole. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the mondole is a mountain meters high, near mondovi, south of turin. the cave lies on the eastern slope, at an altitude of about meters. it is hard to get at. the entrance is to the east, and is meters wide and . meters high. a passageway some meters long leads to a large chamber where there is plenty of ice. in hot summers ice is brought from the cave to mondovi. _ghiacciaia_ means freezing cavern in italian. la ghiacciaia del val séguret. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--it lies near susa at the base of chalk cliffs, at an altitude of about meters. the cave is said to be about meters deep, meters wide and meters high. bonetti in may, , found many icicles and ice cones. la borna de la glace. (chanoine carrel, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xxxiv., page .)--it lies in the duchy of aosta, commune of la salle, on the northern slope of the hills near chabauday, in a spot called plan agex. the altitude is meters. the entrance opens to the east and is centimeters wide and centimeters high. one can descend for meters. there are two branches in the rear of the entrance. chanoine carrel found an ice pillar meter high in the western branch. he recorded these temperatures on the th of july, : outside + °. entrance + . °. east branch + . °. west branch + . °. windholes in the italian alps. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, pages - .)--a number of these seem to have abnormally low temperatures. some are in the mountains around chiavenna, and are sometimes, by building small huts over them, utilized as refrigerators. some are reported in the neighborhood of the lago di como near dongo, near menaggio, and in the villa pliniana near curino; in the neighborhood of the lake of lugano at the base of monte caprino, near melide, near mendrisio and near sertellino; and in the val maggia near cevio. the glacière de font d'urle, or fondurle, dauphiné. (héricart de thury, _annales des mines_, vol. xxxiii., page ; g. f. browne, _ice caves_, etc., page ; e. a. martel, _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. i., page ; l. villard, _spélunca_, , vol. ii., page .)--it lies on the foire de font d'urle, kilometers north of dié, kilometers east of valence, and kilometers south of grenoble. the glacière consists of two large pits, lying east and west, and with underground communication. from this tunnel a long low archway leads to a broad slope of chaotic blocks of stone, which is meters long and meters in greatest width. the ice begins half way down this slope, fitfully at first and afterwards in a tolerably continuous sheet. thury found many icicles hanging from the roof. browne found four columns of ice, of which the largest was . meters across the base. on his visit, in the middle of august, the ice was strongly thawing. both explorers noted the extremely prismatic character of the ice. browne found a temperature of + . °. martel gives a section and plan of font d'urle. mons. villard says about this cavern: "a curious thing: i found in this cave, motionless on a piece of rock, entirely surrounded by ice for a distance of several meters, a blind specimen of a coleoptera, _cytodromus dapsoïdes_." the chourun clot. (e. a. martel, _sous terre_. _annuaire du club alpin français_, vol. xxiii., , pages , ; _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. i., page .)--in dauphiné, half way between agnières and the pic costebelle, at an altitude of , meters. there is first a pit meters long, . meters wide and meters deep. in the bottom of this is a vertical hole meters deep and from meter to meters in diameter, in which there was much ice on the st of july, . then the pit changes to a sloping gallery which terminates in a little hall, full of ice, at a depth of meters. martel gives a cut and section of this glacière. the glacière du trou de glas. (e. a. martel, _la géographie_, , vol. i., page .)--in the range of the grande chartreuse. the chourun martin. (e. a. martel, _la géographie_, , vol. i., page .)--in the range of the dévoluy, hautes-alpes; altitude , meters. an extremely deep pit, which on july st, , was much blocked up with snow. the chourun de la parza. (e. a. martel, _la géographie_, , vol. i., page .)--in the range of the dévoluy, hautes-alpes; altitude , meters. a fine pit, meters in diameter, and meters in depth. filled with snow or rather névé, in which are deep holes. the glacière de l'haut-d'aviernoz. described in part i., page . (c. dunant, _le parmelan et ses lapiaz_, page ; browne, _ice caves_, etc., page .)--mons. dunant calls this glacière l'haut d'aviernoz; mr. browne calls it the glacière du grand anu. by a plumb line held from the edge of the larger pit, browne found that the ice floor was about meters from the surface, which would give a level for the ice floor closely identical to the one i found. in july, , he recorded a temperature of + . °. the glacière de l'enfer. (g. f. browne, _good words_, november, ; t. g. bonney, _the alpine regions_, , pages , ; c. dunant, _le parmelan et ses lapiaz_, page .)--on mont parmelan. a pit cave with a steep slope of broken rock leading to a rock portal in the face of a low cliff. this opens into a roughly circular hall about meters in diameter and meters to meters in height. a chink between the rock and the ice permitted mr. browne to scramble down three or four meters to where a tunnel entered the ice mass. throwing a log of wood down this tunnel, a crash was heard and then a splash of water, and then a strange gulping sound. "the tunnel obviously led to a subglacial reservoir and this was probably covered by a thin crust of ice; the log in falling had broken this and then disturbed the water below, which then commenced bubbling up and down through the hole, and making a gulping noise, just as it does sometimes when oscillating up and down in a pipe." mons. c. dunant of the _club alpin français_ describes a visit to the glacière de l'enfer. he mentions also a legend of a witch from a neighboring village who would get the ice from these caves and bring it down in the shape of hail on the crops of the peasants who were inhospitable to her. the glacière de chapuis. described in part i., page . (browne, _ice caves_, etc., page , and _good words_, november, .)--mr. browne calls it the glacière de chappet-sur-villaz. mr. browne and professor t. g. bonney found several flies in the glacière de chapuis. three of them were specimens of _stenophylax_, the largest being probably, but not certainly, _s. hieroglyphicus_ of stephens. two smaller caddis flies were either _s. testaceus_ of pictet or some closely allied species. one other insect was an ichneumon of the genus _paniscus_, of an unidentified species. it differed from all its congeners in the marking of the throat, resembling in this respect some species of _ophion_. mr. browne thinks that the case flies may have been washed into the cave somehow or other in the larva form, and come to maturity on the ice where they had lodged. but this explanation will not hold in the case of the ichneumon, which is a parasitic genus on larvæ of terrestrial insects. the glacière de le brezon. (pictet, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xx., page , and thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x., pages and .)--it lies southeast of bonneville near the foot of mount lechaud, at an altitude of meters. the cave is . meters long, about meters wide and the greatest height is about meters. the entrance is small and is at the base of a cliff, in some places of which cold air currents issue. the ice lies on the floor. some of it is probably winter snow. the glacière de brisons.--described in part i., page . the grand cave de montarquis. described in part i., page . (thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, vol. x., pages - .)--professor thury describes two visits to this cave. on the th of august, , he found no ice stalactites or stalagmites. on the th of january, , he did not find a single drop of water in the cave, but many stalactites and stalagmites of beautiful clear ice, one of which resembled porcelain more than any other substance. in august, thury found an air current streaming into the cave at the rear, but this did not, however, disturb the air of the interior, for in one part it was in perfect equilibrium: along the line of the draughts the ice was more melted than elsewhere in the cave. in january, the current was reversed and poured into the fissure, with the temperature varying between - . ° and - . °. he observed the following temperatures at the grand cave:-- time. outside. inside. th august, + . ° + . ° th january, . p. m. + . ° - .° " " " . " + . ° - .° " " " . " - . ° - .° the petite cave de montarquis. mentioned in part i., page . (thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x., page . also quotes morin.)--at the end of a crooked fissure meters deep, a passage meters long, leads into a cave meters high and meters in diameter. in august, , morin found an ice stalagmite of meters in height in the middle of the cave. cave containing ice on the southern shore of lake geneva.--reported; no information. the glacière and neigière d'arc-sous-cicon. (browne, _ice caves_, etc., page .)--these lie close together in the jura about twenty kilometers from pontarlier. the little glacière is formed by a number of fissures in the rock, disconnected slits in the surface opening into larger chambers where the ice lies. the neigière is a deep pit, with a collection of snow at the bottom, much sheltered by overhanging rocks and trees. a huge fallen rock covers a large part of the sloping bottom of the pit, which forms a small cave in the shape of a round soldier's tent, with walls of rock and floor of ice. the glacière de la genollière. described in part i., page . (browne, _ice caves_, etc., page .)--mr. browne observed in a temperature of + . °, and two days later of + . °. he also found a number of flies running rapidly over the ice and stones. he was told in england, from the specimen he brought away, that it was the _stenophylax hieroglyphicus_ of stephens or something very like that fly. the glacière de saint-georges. described in part i., page . (thury, _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. x.)--professor thury obtained the following temperatures at the glacière de saint-georges:-- outside. inside. th january, . p. m., - . ° . p. m., - . ° " " " . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° minimum of night - . ° - . ° th january, . a. m., - . ° . a. m., - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . p. m., - . ° . p. m., - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° " " " . " - . ° . " - . ° minimum of night - . ° - . ° th january, . a. m., - . ° d april, . p. m., + . ° - . ° minimum of night + . ° d april, . a. m., + . ° . a. m., - . ° professor thury's winter excursions caused him to accept as proved that part of the mountaineers' belief, which holds that there is no ice formed in caves in winter. one of the main grounds for his opinion was the series of observations he made in the glacière de saint-georges. he found no ice forming there in winter and the natives said it did not because the cavern was not cold enough. so he placed large dishes filled with water in the cave and found that they froze solid during the night, which he had been assured was impossible. thury also found violent movements of the air at saint-georges in january, . a candle burned steadily for some time, but at . p. m. it began to flicker and soon inclined downwards through an angle of about °; and in the entrance, the flame assumed an almost horizontal position. at p. m., the current of air nearly disappeared. thury thought that this violent and temporary disturbance of equilibrium was due to the fact that as the heavier air outside tended to pass into the cave, the less cold air within tended to pass out; and the narrow entrance confining the struggle to a small area, the weaker current was able for a while to hold its own. the glacière du pré de saint-livres. described in part i., page . (browne, _ice caves_, page .)--mr. browne found, in , a temperature of °. the petite glacière du pré de saint-livres. (browne, _ice caves_, page .)--this is near the last cave at a slightly higher altitude. there is first a small pit, then a little cave, in which there is an ice slope. this passes under a low arch in the rock wall, and leads down into another small cave. mr. browne descended this ice stream, which was itself practically a fissure column and spread into the fan shape at the base. the lower cave was meters long and meters wide, and contained an ice floor and several fissure columns. the glacière de naye, above montreux, switzerland. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page ; _spélunca_, , vol. i., pages , ; _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. iii., pages - .)--this is called a _glacier souterrain_. it was discovered in by professor dutoit. there are fifty-four caves known among the rochers de naye, and only this one contains ice. it is a long narrow cave with two entrances and widest towards the base, which opens over a precipice. the altitude is high, the upper entrance being at an altitude of meters, and the lower of meters. the place is both a passage cave and a windhole. the snow falls into the upper entrance, and slides down, becoming ice in the lower portion. there are other connecting passages and hollows where the cold air cannot get in, and there ice does not form. mons. martel thinks that the ice formed during the winter is preserved by the draughts--due to the difference in level of the two openings--causing an evaporation and chill sufficient for the purpose. the creux bourquin. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page .)--at mauberget, near grandson. this is a rock gorge meters deep. at the bottom, on the th of july, , was a mass of ice meters long and meters wide. the glacière de monthézy. (browne, _ice caves_, page .)--this lies to the west of neufchâtel, between the val de travers and the val de brévine, on the path between the villages of couvet and le brévine, at an altitude of meters. the cave is nearly oval in shape, with a length of meters and a width of meters. the roof is from meter to meters high. there are three pits, about meters deep, on different sides of the cave. the descent is made through the largest pit. on the th of july, , mr. browne found the floor of the cave covered with ice, and icicles and columns in some places; he also saw a clump of cowslips (_primula elatior_) overhanging the snow at the bottom of the pit through which he descended. pertius freiss. (t. g. bonney, _nature_, vol. xi., page .)--it lies on the way to the pic d'arzinol, near evolène, in the val d'hérens. a slip or subsidence of part of a cliff has opened two joints in the rock, in both of which fissures professor bonney found ice on july d. the schafloch. described in part i., page . (körber, _jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, , vol. xx., pages , .)--herr körber gives some of the dimensions as follows: entrance meters wide and . meters high. length of cave . meters: average width meters and greatest width . meters. height from meters to meters. length of ice slope meters and breadth . meters; for meters the slope has an inclination of °. körber made the following observations in the schafloch:-- meters meters meters date. outside. from from from entrance. entrance. entrance. september, , . ° . ° . ° . ° january, , . ° - . ° - . ° -- the rev. g. f. browne, in , found a temperature of + . °. the eisloch of unterfluh. (baltzer, _jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, - , pages - .)--twenty minutes from unterfluh near meiringen. a long narrow rock crack, some meters deep and running some distance underground. windholes and milkhouses of seelisberg.--described in part i., page . windholes on the spitzfluh. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these are situated between oltingen and zeylingen, canton bâle: they generally contain ice till the end of july. windholes on the blummatt. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the northwestern slope of the stanzerberg. ice sometimes lies over in these windholes. windholes near bozen. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the mendel ranges in eppan, southwest of bozen, among porphyry rocks. there are strong wind-streams. ice is said to remain till late in the summer. grotto on monte tofana, dolomites. (t. g. bonney, _nature_, vol. xi., page .)--this is probably a rudimentary glacière. holes with ice near lienz. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--one hour and a half distant near aineth, is a small cave containing ice, and further up the valley towards huben, are several windholes. eishöhle am birnhorn. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near leogang in the pinzgau. altitude meters. there are two entrances, from which a slope meters long, set at an angle of °, leads to an ice floor meters long and meters high. then comes a small ice slope, and a little horizontal floor at the back. explored by fugger. glacières on the eiskogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the eiskogel is in the tennengebirge, a mountain mass lying east of pass lueg. at an altitude of about meters, are two small caves, about meters to meters apart. they are some meters in length and get smaller towards the bottom. holes with ice in the tennengebirge, between the schallwand and the tauernkogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in this gorge are some small holes at an altitude of about meters, which are said to contain ice in summer. the seeofen. (a. posselt-csorich, _zeitschrift des deutschen und oesterreichischen alpen verein_, , page .) on the hean krail in the tennengebirge, at an altitude of about meters. the entrance faces southwest, and is meters high and . meters wide. the cave is meters long, and meters wide. the floor of the cave is meters below the entrance. the posselthöhle. (a. posselt-csorich, _zeitschrift des deutschen und osterreichischen alpen verein_, , page .)--named after its discoverer. it lies on the hochkogel in the tennengebirge, at an altitude of about meters. the entrance faces southwest, and is about meters high and meters wide. from the entrance the cave first rises, then sinks again below the level of the entrance, where the ice begins. the cave is about meters wide. about meters were explored, to a point where a perpendicular ice wall, meters high, barred the way. about meters from the entrance, there was an ice cone about meters high. the gamsloch or diebshöhle. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--it lies on the breithorn of the steinernes meer, near the riemannhauss, at an altitude of about meters. the entrance faces south. there is first a small, then a larger chamber. the latter is some meters long, by meters or meters wide. the ice is in the large chamber. eishöhle am seilerer. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the eastern side of the seilerer arête on the ewigen schneeberg, west of bischofshofen, at an altitude of about meters, is a small glacière cave. cave in the hagengebirge, west of pass lueg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--it lies about kilometers east of kalbersberg, at an altitude of about meters. a snow slope, with an ice floor at the bottom, leads into a long cave, about which little is known. the nixloch. described in part i., page . (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--professor fugger gathered some valuable data in connection with the nixloch. in august, , he found the air current entering downwards; on september th, , there was no current either way. on christmas day, , on the contrary, the draughts were reversed, pouring out of the hole with a temperature of + . °: the outside air then being - . °. at this time the known lower opening was in existence. the kolowratshöhle. described in part i., page . (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--this cavern has been more carefully studied than any other glacière cave. some of its dimensions are given by professor fugger as follows: from the entrance to the ice floor, . meters; surface covered by ice as measured on a plane, square meters; approximate cubical measure of entire cave, , cubic meters. the height of the entrance is meters, with a width at the base of . meters, and at the top of . meters. on the entrance slope occurred the only fatal accident i know of in glacières. in , the bavarian minister freiherr von lerchenfeld tried to descend; a wooden handrail which had been erected over the snow broke under his weight; von lerchenfeld fell to the bottom of the cave and died a few days after from the injuries he received. of the kolowratshöhle, we have numerous thermometric observations by professor fugger, of which i select a few. date. outside. entrance. inside. rear. may + . ° + . ° + . ° °& + . ° june + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° june + .° + . ° + . ° -- july -- -- + . ° -- july + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° july + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° aug. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° sept. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° sept. -- -- + . ° -- oct. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° oct. + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° nov. + . ° + . ° - . ° -- jan. + . ° + . ° - . ° - . ° the schellenberger eisgrotte. (fugger, _beobachtungen in den eishöhlen des untersberges_, page .)--on the southeast slope of the untersberg near salzburg, at an altitude of meters. the path leads past the kienbergalp over the mitterkaser and the sandkaser. in front of the entrance is a sort of rock dam, meters long and meters or meters higher than the entrance. masses of snow fill the space between the two. the entrance is about meters wide and from meters to meters high. a snow slope of meters in length, set at an angle of °, leads to the ice floor. the cave is meters long, from meters to meters broad and from meters to meters high. the cave has been repeatedly examined by fugger, who has always found most snow and ice in the beginning of the hot weather, after which it gradually dwindles away. of the schellenberger eisgrotte, we have the following thermometric observations by professor fugger:-- date. outside. entrance. inside. june, + ° -- + . ° " + ° + . ° + . ° aug., + . ° -- + . ° " + . ° -- + . ° oct., + . ° + . ° + . ° " + . ° + . ° + . ° " + . ° -- + . ° " + . ° -- + . ° nov., + . ° -- + . ° the grosser eiskeller or kaiser karls höhle. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--on the untersberg, between the salzburger hochthron and the schweigmüller alp. altitude meters. a stony slope of meters in length leads to an ice floor which is meters long and meters to meters wide. the kleiner eiskeller. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--near the last. a small cave meters long, meters wide, meters high. the windlöcher on the untersberg. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--on the klingersteig, at an altitude of meters. four small caves of about meters each in length and meters in depth, and communicating at the bottom. there are strong draughts among them. in one of the caves is a small pit of great depth. the eiswinkel on the untersberg. (fugger, _beobachtungen_, etc., page .)--between the klingeralp and the vierkaser, at an altitude of meters. a small cave or rather rock shelter. windholes on the untersberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, pages , .)--windholes have been found by fugger on the lower slopes of the untersberg: near the hochbruch at fürstenbrunn. in the débris of the neubruch. in the débris of the veitlbruch. hotel cellar at weissenbach on the attersee. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--there is a small cave here, at an altitude of meters, which is utilized as a cellar, and which is said to contain ice in summer. cave near steinbach. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave containing ice on the northwest slopes of the höllengebirge. altitude about meters. the kliebensteinhöhle or klimmsteinhöhle. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the north slope of the höllengebirge, near the aurachkar alp, between steinbach and the langbath lakes. altitude about meters. length about meters, width meters, height meters. the wasserloch. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the south slope of the höllengebirge, near the spitzalpe. altitude about meters. at the bottom of a gorge is a snow heap and a small cave. the snow becomes ice in the cave. cave on the zinkenkogl near aussee. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--altitude about meters. a snow slope leads to an ice floor meters long and meters wide. cave on the kasberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--south of grünau near gmunden. altitude about meters. small cave meters long, meters wide. the wasseraufschlag on the rothen kogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a tunnel near aussee. the ice in it was formerly used. the gschlösslkirche. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the dachstein range, facing the lake of gosau. a small cave, mostly filled with snow. cave with ice on the mitterstein. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the dachstein, one hour and a quarter from the austria hut. altitude about meters. cave meters to meters wide, meters long. in the rear a passage leads apparently to a windhole where there is a strong draught. windholes in the obersulzbach valley in the pinzgau. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--fugger found ice among these on the st of august, . ice in an abandoned nickel mine on the zinkwand, in the schladming valley. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .) windholes on the rothen kogel near aussee. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these were found to contain ice on the d of september, . cave on the langthalkogel. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the dachstein plateau between hallstatt and gosau. a small cave which contains ice. eislunghöhle. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave between the hochkasten and ostrowiz in the priel range. the geldloch or seelücken on the oetscher. (schmidl, _die höhlen des Ötscher and die oesterreichischen höhlen_; cranmer and sieger, _globus_, , pages - , and - .)--the second known notice of a glacière cave is the account of a visit to the oetscher caves in . after lying in manuscript for two and a half centuries, it was published by dr. a. schmidl in , in _die höhlen des Ötscher_, pages - . according to the account, which is naive, but evidently truthful, kaiser rudolf ii. ordered reichard strein, owner of the herrschaff friedeck, to investigate the Ötscher and especially its caves. he did so, with the title of _kaiserlicher commissarius_, and accompanied by the _bannerherr_ christoph schallenberger, hans gasser, and eleven porters. on september the th, , they visited the seelücken, where they found a lake in the front of the cave, and where the party had great difficulties in climbing round on to the ice. the seelücken on the oetscher is situated at an altitude of meters. it opens nearly due south. the ice floor is about meters below the entrance and is about meters long and meters wide; at the rear, it rises for some meters as an ice wall at an angle of about °, and then forms a second ice floor about meters long by meters wide. the front part of the ice is sometimes, about july, covered with water. the cave continues further back, in two branches, and professors cranmer and sieger consider that it is a large windhole, in which draughts are infrequent, on account of its length and because the openings are near the same level. there are also several up and down curves and in these cold air remains and acts something like a cork in stopping draughts. on the th of september there were no draughts, and the temperatures between a. m. and m. were:-- outside air + . ° inside near entrance + . ° a little further in + . ° at the lowest point near ice + . ° on the st of october, , there was a draught, which followed the curves of the cavern, and which flowed out at the southern end. the temperatures were:-- outside air + . ° inside near entrance + . ° at the lowest point near ice + . ° on the second, higher ice floor + . ° in the main passage behind ice + . ° cave on the kühfotzen near warscheneck. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave containing ice. eiskeller on the rax. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page ; cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--altitude about meters. a doline with a small cave at the bottom, in which melting snow was found on the th of september, . the tablerloch. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., pages - .)--on the dürren-wand in the mountains south of vienna, hours distant from miesenbach r. r. station. altitude about meters. entrance meters wide, . meters high. slope ° from entrance. lowest point meters below entrance. extreme length of cave meters, width meters, height meters. professor cranmer found fresh ice beginning to form on the th of november, ; on the st of december, ; and on the th of october, . he found it melting away on the d of june, ; on the st of june, ; and on the st of may, . the rates at which the ice formed or melted, however, were not always the same in different parts of the cave. the greatest amount of ice observed seems to have been in march and april. in the summer months no perceptible movements of air seem to have been noticed. this was also sometimes the case in the winter months, during which, however, movements of air were at other times plainly perceptible. the gipsloch. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--a small cave on the hohen-wand near wiener-neustadt. it is rather a cold cave than a glacière. the windloch. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--on the hohen-wand near wiener neustadt. small cave. snow found in it on june the d, . eisloch in the brandstein on the hochschwab. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--altitude about meters. a moderately large cave. on the st of august, , there was an ice floor meters long and meters broad. temperature in rear of cave, - . °. caves on the beilstein. (krauss, _höhlenkunde_, , pages - ; cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--these lie about hours on foot from gams in steiermark, at an altitude of meters, in a place where the mountain is much broken up by fissures and snow basins. the large cave has two openings, from which steep snow slopes descend. the cave is meters long, meters to meters broad, and about meters high. clefts in the rock in two places lead to two lower, small ice chambers. in the neighborhood of the large cave are two small ones. prof. cranmer found fresh ice in the beilsteinhöhle on the th of august, . two days before, fresh snow had fallen on the neighboring mountain peaks. eishöhle on the brandstein. (cranmer, _eishöhlen_, etc., page .)--a small cleft cave near the langriedleralm near gams in steiermark. on the th of august, , it contained some ice. the frauenmauerhöhle.--described in part i., page . the bärenloch near eisenerz. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the neighborhood of the frauenmauerhöhle. altitude meters. a steep snow slope leads to an ice floor meters long. the katerloch. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the göserwand near dürnthal, glemeinde gschaid in steiermark. a large cave, some meters long and meters wide. a thin ice crust has been found on parts of the walls in the rear. caves in the stein alps. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--the plateau of velica planina lies, at an altitude of meters, kilometers north of stein in the duchy of krain. there are three caves containing ice on the plateau. the first is a big one and is called v. kofcih. the second is called mala veternica. the third and biggest is called velika veternica; its length is about meters and its breadth meters. glacière caves on the nanos mountain. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the southwestern krain, kilometers from präwald. there are four caves containing ice reported on the nanos mountain. two of them are big. the altitude of one of these is meters, of the other meters. brlowa jama. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--seven kilometers from adelsberg. small glacière cave. kosova jama. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near divacca. forty meters long, meters broad. glacière near adelsberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--small cave. one hour from adelsberg. kacna jama. (j. marinitsch, _la kacna jama_, _mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, vol. i., page .)--a great pit near the railroad station of divacca. herr marinitsch observed the following temperatures on january d, :-- at divacca - ° c. in the kacna jama at meters - . ° c. " " " " " meters + . ° c. " " " " " meters + . ° c. sanct canzian, karst. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page , note.)--during the winter of - , herr marinitsch found stalactites of ice as far as the seventeenth cascade of the recca; meters from the third entrance of the river. the temperature of the recca was then at °; during the summer, the temperature of the water rises to ° (?). the grosses eisloch of paradana. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the high plateau of the forest of tarnowa, east of görz. a large pit cave, meters to meters deep. professor fugger says of it: "the flora in the basin-like depression has the character of high mountain vegetation, with every step it resembles more this flora as it exists in the neighborhood of glaciers, until finally in the deepest point of the basin all vegetation stops." the kleines eisloch of paradana. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small pit glacière, meters distant from the grosses eisloch of paradana. suchy brezen. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small pit glacière, situated about midway between the grosses and kleines eisloch of paradana. prevalo cave. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the buchenhochwald, south of karnica. small glacière. cave of dol. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on a mountain near haidenschaft. small glacière. glacière near matena in bezirke radmansdorf. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--on a wooded height. the ice commences to melt in the early summer. glacière on the schutzengelberge near the golac. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--a small glacière. glacière cave near lazhna-gora or latzenberg. (valvasor, _die ehre des herzogthumes crain_, vol. i., pages , ; hacquet, _oryctographia carniolica_, , iii., page .)--in the neighborhood of vishnagora in the krain. the entrance is under a church. it is a large cave, meters long and meters high, where the ice all melts by the end of the summer. valvasor gives the following account of this cave in , which seems the first printed notice of a glacière in german:-- "near to lazchenberg up by the church of st. nicholas, where a _thabor_ stands, one finds a big hole, which sinks into the stony rocks. through this one descends deep with torches: there opens then underneath as big a cavity as the biggest church could be, and the same is extremely high, in the form of a cupola. one sees there different teeth, formed and hardened from the water turned to stone. further down one arrives to a deep gully: into which, however, i have not been. on the other side one must again ascend, and then one comes again to a cupola: in which cupola ice stands up like an organ from the earth. "there also one sees icicles of pure ice of different sizes and heights, of which many are one or two _klafters_ high and as thick as a man; but many only two or three spans high or higher, and as thick as an arm, and some also thinner. this ice is formed from the drops of falling water; and indeed in summer; for in winter there is no ice therein. over such ice one must then ascend, as there are then said to be separate holes and grottoes. but no one has been any further." glacière on the dini verh. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--near tomischle in the krain. small glacière. eiskeller near rosseck. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--on the pograca mountain in the krain, northeast of the hornwald, near the meierhof rosseck. small glacière cave. gorge near rosseck. (valvasor, _die ehre des herzogthumes crain_, vol. i., page and page ; petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--behind the ruined castle of rosseck, on the pograca mountain in the krain, is a gorge, at whose bottom are four little holes containing ice most of the year. valvasor wrote of this cave in : "near rosseck immediately back of the castle there opens a mighty cavern entirely in stony rock, and yawns in the shape of a cauldron down into the earth. above as wide as a good rifle shot, but below quite narrow. and there underneath there are many holes where the ice remains through the whole summer. from such ice have duke frederick graf and duke von gallenberg daily made use in summer to cool their wine. six years ago i descended there in the month of august, and found ice enough in all the holes." in the same volume freiherr valvasor elaborates his remarks about this cave and that at latzenberg, repeating in the main the observations in the paragraph just given. he says: "there hang also long icicles which are quite pleasant to look at. * * * this ice breaks all too easily and quickly. * * * contrarywise, however, this ice lasts much longer in the sun and the heat than other ice. * * * some might think it would eventually turn into stone: this, however, does not happen: for it remains only in summer and disappears in winter: as i can say for certain, as i have been in myself in the winter as well as in the summer time. * * * for as in the summer the floor is quite covered with ice: it makes walking so dangerous and bad that one cannot take a step without climbing irons; but in the winter time one goes safely and well. * * *" freiherr valvasor was evidently an accurate observer, and, if for his word "winter" we substitute "autumn," his account will be much more nearly correct than might have been expected two centuries ago. the kuntschner eishöhle. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., pages , .)--this is known also as the töplitzer, unterwarmberger or ainödter grotto. it lies kilometers from kuntschen, and kilometers from töplitz near neustädtel, in the krain. altitude about meters. petruzzi says: "of all so far noticed ice grottoes it is the most wonderful and splendid." in august and september, , the temperatures near the ice were about two degrees above freezing. on the th of august, there were many long ice stalagmites and stalactites; on the th of september they had diminished materially. petruzzi says also: "one leaves the abundant vegetation of the alpine summer flora, and through bushes and dwarf underbrush, through bare and half moss covered rocks and débris, through rotten and twisted tree stems, one comes to the hall of eternal winter, where the microscopic mosses of the north surround the thousand year old stalactites, hanging from the dripping vault, with an always passing, always freshly forming, tender sulphur colored down." dr. schwalbe has also examined this cave. the friedrichsteiner or gottscheer eishöhle.--described in part i., page . the handler eisloch.-- kilometers south of gottschee and about twenty minutes from the village of handlern, near rieg. altitude meters. small cave. professor hans satter of gottschee told me he doubted whether ice ever formed there now. the suchenreuther eisloch.--described in part i., page . ledenica na veliki gori. (petruzzi in haidinger's _berichte_, etc., vol. vii., page .)--in the krain, kilometers from reifnitz, on the balastena mountain. altitude meters. much ice was found there on the th of july, . mrzla jama. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the innerkrainer schneeberg, kilometers from laas. glacière caves on the kapella. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on a pass in the neighborhood of piacenza. altitude meters. glacière cave in west bosnia. (fugger, _eishöhlen_. page .)--west of kljuc, county petrovac, district smoljama, near village trvanj. called trvanj, also ledenica. altitude about meters, length meters, breadth from meters to meters. rtanj, servia. (a. boué, _la turquie d'europe_, , vol. i., page ; dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , pages - .)--this glacière is on the south side of siljak, near the village muzinac. a passage meters long leads to a hall about meters in height. dr. boué found snow here in august, the thermometer standing below freezing point. the people in the neighborhood told dr. boué that the snow is formed in june and disappears in september and that it is sometimes carried to nisch. he also heard of similar cavities on the bannat mountain. dr. cvijic observed in the hall a temperature of + . ° c. ledena pec, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , pages , .)--on the ledini verh or glacial peak, at an altitude of meters; distant one hour and a half from the village of souvold. length of passage meters; at entrance about meters, at end about meters in height. on the th of may, , there was plenty of ice and snow. temperature of outside air + ° c.; inside air at rear + . ° c. probably permanent glacière. dobra ledenica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--west of ledeno brdo. probably periodic glacière. on july th, , the temperature of the outside air was + ° c.; of the inside air + . °c. _ledenica_ is the name for a glacière in servia. ledenica in the mala brezovica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--length meters. a large, permanent glacière. on july th, , the outside air was + °: inside air + °. ledenica treme in the souva planina, servia. (cvijic, dr. a., _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--altitude meters to meters. a rather large, probably permanent glacière. plenty of ice in it on april st, . zla ledenica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--on the kucaj. a permanent glacière, meters or meters deep. on july th, , outside air + °; inside air at snow + °. glacière on the devica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--under the peak lazurevica. altitude meters. a narrow passage leads to a hall meters long by meters wide and meters high. on june th, , there was plenty of snow in the passage and ice in the hall. glacière vlaska pecura, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--on the devica, under the golemi vech. a small periodic glacière. glacière in the zdrebica, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--on the southeast side of the souva planina, near the village veliki krtchimir. a small periodic glacière. on april th, , plenty of snow and ice. glacière stoykova, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , pages , .)--on the kucaj. a large pit cave with a total depth of meters. probably a permanent glacière. on july st, , plenty of ice and snow. outside air + °; inside air in hall + . °. glacière on the topiznica mountain, servia. (dr. a. cvijic, _spélunca_, vol. ii., , page .)--altitude meters. a large pit cave with an extreme depth of meters. in august, , there was plenty of snow and ice, and the inside temperature was + °. glacière cave near borszék. (bielz, _siebenbürgen_, , page .)--about an hour distant from the baths, in broken limestone. it seems to be a rock fissure, at the end of which ice is found till towards the middle of july. glacière cave near sonkolyos in the korös valley. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--small cave. glacière near zapodia. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near petrosc in the bihar mountains. altitude meters; length meters, width meters. pescerca la jesere. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--between vervul la belegiana and the batrina in the bihar mountains. small freezing cave. glacière cave near verespatak, in transylvania. (bielz, _siebenbürgen_, page .)--small cave. gietariu near funacza. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the bihar mountains. small glacière cave. cave of skerizora. (karl f. peters, _sitzungsbericht der k. k. akademie der wissenchaften_, wien, vol. xliii., , page ; bielz, _siebenbürgen_, , page .)--this is one of the greatest glacière caves known. it lies in the bihar mountains, three hours from the village of ober-girda, which can be reached from gyula fehérvar, via topánfalva. it is a pit cave, in limestone, at an altitude of meters. the pit is about meters broad, and meters deep, with exceedingly steep walls. the entrance is in the northeast wall and is about meters high. this leads into a nearly circular hall meters in diameter and about meters high. the floor is ice. in the southeast corner is a hole over meters deep. in the northwest wall is an opening meters wide, which forms the beginning of a sort of gallery meters long and which at its further end is meters wide and meters high. this is also covered with a flooring of ice, which in some places can only be descended by step cutting. this passage is also richly adorned with ice stalactites and stalagmites. at its end is another also nearly circular hall, meters in diameter and about meters high. this is called the '_beszerika_' or church. in one place there is a magnificent collection of ice stalagmites called the "altar." peters found in dirt on the sides of the cave remains of bats not very different from those now living in the vicinity. he thinks the bats may have come there before the cave became a glacière; or else that they may even now sometimes get into the first hall and there perish from cold. this makes it uncertain, therefore, whether the remains can be considered as of the past or the present. eishöhle bei roth.--described in part i., page . mines on the eisenberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these lie near blankenburg in the thüringer wald and have been known to contain ice. the ziegenloch or grosses kalte loch, and the kleines kalte loch. (behrens, _hercynia curiosa_, pages , .)--these lie near questenberg in the southern harz mountains, at an altitude of about meters. the grosses loch is described as a sort of small pit some meters deep, in one side of which opens a small fissure some meters long. ice has been found in this in april; schwalbe found none there in july. the kleines loch was another small cold cave near the ziegenloch, but it has been filled up. behrens says that the dampness at the cave at questenberg is precipitated as snow. holes with ice near sanct blasien. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the black forest, among boulders at an altitude of meters. holes with ice near hochenschwand. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the black forest, among boulders at an altitude of meters. eisstollen and eiskeller at the dornburg. described in part i., page . (poggendorff's _annalen der physik und chemie, ergänzungsband_, , pages - .)--ice appears to have been discovered at the dornburg in june, . it was found from a depth of centimeters down to meters. the width of the ice-bearing talus was from meters to meters; and it is said that it becomes wider in winter and narrower in summer. beschertgluck mine, freiberg district. (prestwich, _collected papers_, etc., page .)--mr. prestwich quotes daubuisson as having seen the shaft of the mine lined with ice to a depth of toises ( meters?). ice in the zinc mines on the sauberg. (reich, _beobachtungen über die temperatur des gesteines_, , pages and .)--these are near ehrenfriedersdorf in saxony and formerly contained ice in winter. they are reported now to be destroyed. the garische stollen. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, etc., page .)--near ehrenfriedersdorf in the freiwald. lohman found much ice in this in january, less in march, and scarcely any in may. the ritterhöhle. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near ehrenfriedersdorf in the freiwald. small ice deposit. the rock is granite. the stulpnerhöhle. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near the ritterhöhle. small ice deposit in granite rock. eisloch and eishöhle near geyer in saxony. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--these are in a place called die binge. both are small. the alte thiele. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near buchholz in saxony. small ice deposit. mine pits in the saxon erzgebirge. (reich, _beobachtungen über die temperatur des gesteines_, .)--extremely low temperatures have been found in several of these pits:-- in the churprinz friedrich august erbstollen near freiberg. in the heinrichs-sohle in the stockwerk near altenberg. in the henneberg stollen, on the ingelbach, near johanngeorgenstadt. in the weiss-adler-stollen, on the left declivity of the valley of the schwarzwasser, above the antonshütte. holes holding ice on the saalberg. (_annalen der physik und chemie_, , lxxxi., page .)--these lie between saalberg and the burgk. ice is found here on the surface from june to the middle of august. from the observations of professor hartenstein, fugger deduces that this place must be the lower end of one or more windholes. millstone quarry of niedermendig. (m. a. pictet, _mémoires de la société d'histoire naturelle de genève_, , vol. i., page .)--on the niederrhein. there are many connecting pits and galleries here, in which ice has been found in the hottest days of summer as well as in march. the abandoned shafts are utilized as beer cellars. eisgrube on the umpfen. (voigt, _mineralogische reisen durch das herzogthum weimar_, , vol. ii., page .)--in the rhöngebirge, twenty minutes from kaltennordheim, are some irregular masses of columnar basalt, at an altitude of about meters, among which abundant ice has been found up to late in the summer. cave near muggendorf, franconia.--the landlord of the kurhaus hotel at muggendorf, told me that there was a small cave in the vicinity where there was ice in the winter and spring, but that it all melted away before august. cave on the dürrberg. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near zwickau in bohemia. small cave which sometimes contains ice. the schneebinge. (lohman, _das höhleneis_, page .)--near platten in bohemia. a small ice deposit in an old mine. ice among basaltic rocks on the pleschiwitz. (pleischl, in poggendorff's _annalen der physik und chemie_, vol. liv., , pages - .)--above kameik near leitmeritz in bohemia. professor pleischl, in may, , found ice under the rocks a little distance from the surface. the surface of the rocks was then warm. on the st of january, , professor pleischl found snow on the outside of the rocks, but no ice underneath. he was assured by the people of the district that the hotter the summer, the more ice is found. glacière on the zinkenstein. (pleischl, in poggendorff's _annalen der physik und chemie_, vol. liv., , page ).--the zinkenstein is one of the highest points of the vierzehnberge, in the leitmeritz kreis. there is a deep cleft in basalt, where ice has been found in summer. eislöcher on the steinberg. (pleischl, in poggendorffs _annalen der physik und chemie_, vol. liv., , page .)--in the herrschaft konoged. small basalt talus where ice is found in the hottest weather. windholes in bohemia. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the neighborhood of leitmeritz. these are in basaltic rock. ice sometimes forms at the lower extremity. the most notable are-- on the steinberg near mertendorf on the triebschbach; on the kelchberg near triebsch; on the kreuzberg near leitmeritz; on the rodersberg near schlackenwerth; in the grossen loch near tschersink. ice in a pit near neusohl. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .) the frainer eisleithen. described in part i., page . (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .) professor fugger quotes the following observations by forester wachtl at frain:-- . . january - ° to - ° - ° february - ° to ° - ° to - ° march ° to + ° - ° to ° april + ° to + ° ° may + ° + ° to + ° june + ° to + ° + ° to + ° july + ° + ° to + ° august + ° to + ° + ° september + ° to + ° + ° to + ° october + ° + ° november -- + ° december - ° to - ° ° to - ° démenyfálva jegbarlang. described in part i., page . dóbsina jegbarlang. described in part i., page . (pelech; _the valley of stracena and the dobschau ice cavern_; schwalbe, _Über eishöhlen und eislöcher_, page .)--pelech gives the following measurements: the grosser saal is meters long, meters to meters wide, and meters to meters high, with a surface area of square meters. the ice mass is estimated as , cubic meters in volume. the length of the korridor is meters; the left wing being meters, and the right wing meters long. the cave was first entered on july th, , by herr eugene ruffiny, of dóbsina, and some friends. he had happened to fire a gun in front of it, and hearing a continuous muffled rolling echo within, determined to explore it. dr. schwalbe quotes the following series of observations in dóbsina during the year : deepest point from korridor entrance. grosser saal. of korridor. to kleinen saal. january - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° february - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° march - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° april - . ° - . ° - . ° + . ° may + . ° + . ° - . ° + . ° june + . ° + . ° - . ° + . ° july + . ° + . ° + . ° + . ° august + . ° + . ° + . ° + . september + . + . ° - . ° - . ° october - . ° + . ° - . ° - . ° november - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° december - . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° ------ ------ ------ ------ year + . ° - . ° - . ° - . ° the philadelphia _evening bulletin_, march, st, , printed the following note about dóbsina: "in this cave, some sixteen years ago, a couple named kolcsey elected to pass the week immediately following their marriage. they took with them a plentiful supply of rugs, blankets and warm clothing, but notwithstanding all precautions, their experience was not of a sufficiently pleasant nature to tempt imitators." lednica of szilize. (m. bel, _philosophical transactions_, london, , vol. xli., page _et seq._; townson, _travels in hungary_, ; terlanday, _petermann's mittheilungen_, , page .)--it lies . kilometers from the village of szilize, near rosenau, in gomör county, in the carpathians, at an altitude of meters. a pit about meters deep, meters long, and meters wide opens in the ground, and at the southern end, in the perpendicular wall, is the cave. the entrance is meters wide, meters high, and faces north. a slope meters long sinks with an angle of ° to the floor of the cave, which is nearly circular in form, with a diameter of about meters. on the east side of the cave there seems to be a hole in the ice some meters deep. in , there was published in london a curious letter in latin from matthias bel, a hungarian _savant_, about the cavern of szilize. he says: "the nature of the cave has this of remarkable, that, when outside the winter freezes strongest, inside the air is balmy: but it is cold, even icy, when the sun shines warmest. as soon as the snow melts and spring begins, the inner roof of the cave, where the midday sun strikes the outside, begins to sweat clear water, which drops down here and there; through the power of the inner cold it turns to transparent ice and forms icicles, which in thickness equal large barrels and take wonderful shapes. what as water drops from the icicles to the sandy floor, freezes up, even quicker, than one would think. "the icy nature of the cave lasts through the whole summer, and what is most remarkable, it increases with the increasing heat of the sun. in the beginning of the spring the soft winter's warmth begins to give way soon thereafter, and when spring is more advanced, the cold sets in, and in such a manner, that the warmer does the (outside) air grow, the more does the cave cool off. and when the summer has begun and the dog days glow, everything within goes into icy winter. then do the drops of water pouring from the roof of the cave change into ice, and with such rapidity that where to-day delicate icicles are visible, to-morrow masses and lumps, which fall to the ground, appear. here and there, where the water drips down the walls of the cave, one sees wonderful incrustations, like an artificial carpeting. the rest of the water remains hanging on the ice, according to the warmth of the day. for when for a longer time it is warmer, the ice of the stalactites, of the walls and of the floor increases; but when the ruling heat, as sometimes happens, is diminished through north winds or rainstorm, the waters freeze more slowly, the ice drips more fully and begins to form little brooklets. when however the temperature gets warmer, the icy nature of the cave begins once more. some have observed, that the nature of the grotto receives the changes of temperature ahead, like a barometer. for, when a warmer temperature sets in outside, the waters change into ice, several hours before the heat sets in, while the opposite takes place, when by day the temperature is colder; for then even by the warmest sky the ice begins to melt noticeably. "when the dog days have passed and the summer has already changed into fall, the cave with its own nature follows the conditions of the external air. in the early months and while the nights are growing colder, the ice diminishes visibly; then when the air cools off more and more and when the brooks and side are rigid with frost, it begins to melt as though there was a fire built underneath, until, when winter reigns, it is entirely dry in the cave, without a sign of ice being left behind. then gentle warmth spreads into the entire cave, and this icy grave becomes a safety resort for insects and other small animals, which bear the winter with difficulty. but besides swarms of flies and gnats, troops of bats and scores of owls, hares and foxes take up their abode here, until with the beginning of spring, the cave once more assumes its icy appearance." these assertions of bel are the most inaccurate ones made about glacières. yet, strange to say, they have colored the literature of the subject down to our own times; and have been repeated many times, sometimes with, sometimes without, the hares and foxes; the latest repetition seeming to occur in . cave near the village of borzova, torna county, carpathians. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--reported to contain ice, but nothing certainly known. crimea. ledianaia yama. (montpeyreux, _voyage autour du caucase_ v., page ; hablizl, _description physique de la tauride_, , pages - .)--on the karabi-yaïla, kilometers southwest of karasubazar. altitude about meters. a fairly large pit glacière cave. the name means an abyss of ice. glacière cave on the yaïla of oulouzène at kazauté. (montpeyreux, _voyage autour du caucase_, ii., page .)--a small pit cave. caucasus. glacière cave in the khotevi valley. (montpeyreux, _voyage autour du caucase_, ii., page .)--in the province of radscha, near the monastery nikortsminda. a large pit cave which must be of the same order as that of chaux-les-passavant and from which the inhabitants of koutaïs get ice. glacières near koutaïs. (e. a. martel, _les abimes_, page .)--"dr. a. sakharov, it appears, has recently discovered in the government of koutaïs caves containing ice." cave of sabazwinda. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near the town of zorchinwall, on the river liachwa, province of gori, in georgia, near the ossete mountains. ice has been found in the cave in summer. in december there was none. ural. glacière cave near sukepwa. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--on the volga, province of zlatoust. small cave on the river bank. glacière cave on the tirmen tau. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., vol. ii., page .)--near the village of chaszina, kilometers from orenburg. small cave. glacière cave of kurmanajeva. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., vol. ii., page .)--near kurmanajeva, a village kilometers from tabinsk, in the government of orenburg. a large cave. lepechin found ice in one part of the cave and deep water in another. there were draughts in some places. cave on the baislan tasch. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., ii., page .)--the baislan tasch is a mountain on the right bank of the bielaja river, which flows into the kama. there is a large cave in the mountain in which ice has been found. cave on the muinak tasch. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., ii., page .)--the muinak tasch is a mountain on the bielaja river. there is a large cave in it, in which a little ice has been found. cave of kungur. (lepechin, _tagebuch der reise_, etc., ii., page ; rosenmüller and tilesius, i., page .)--the cavern of kungur is near the town of kungur in the government of perm. there are in it many passages and grottoes connecting with one another, some of which contain ice. it is a fine, large cave, whose greatest length is meters. mines of kirobinskoy. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--these mines are kilometers southeast of miask in the ural; they have been abandoned. one of them contains ice all the year round. caves of illetzkaya-zatschita. (murchison, vernieul and keyserling, _the geology of russia in europe and the ural mountains_, , vol. i., page .)-- kilometers southeast from orenburg. the caves are in the kraoulnaïgora, a gypsum hillock meters high, rising in the midst of an undulating steppe, which lies on a vast bed of rock salt. only one of the caves contains ice. there are strong draughts in places. siberia. cave near the fortress kitschigina. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave, kilometers east of kajilskoi, kilometers from petropaulowsk, kilometers from tobolsk. the cave is in an open plain, and sometimes contains ice. wrechneja petschera. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near the village birjusinska, in the neighborhood of krasnojarsk, on the right bank of the yenisei. large glacière cave. glacière cave of balagansk. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a narrow cleft, meters long; kilometers downstream from irkutsk on the left bank of the angora river; at a distance of kilometers from the river. glacière cave on the onon river. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--a small cave; kilometers from the borsja mountain. mines of siranowsk. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--in the altai mountains, on the buchtorma river, an affluent of the irtysch. magnificent ice formations have been found in these mines. mines of seventui. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near nertschinsk, on the amoor river. two of the levels contain perennial ice and hence are called _ledenoi_. these are at a depth of about meters in porous lava. the rest of the mine is in more solid rock. glacière cave near lurgikan. (fugger, _eishöhlen_, page .)--near the confluence of the lurgikan and schilka rivers, in the province nertschinsk. from meters to meters wide. length meters. basins or troughs retaining ice. (dittmar, _ueber die eismülden im Östlichen siberien_; middendorff, _zusatz_; _bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg_, , vol. xi., pages - .)--these troughs are nearly akin to gorges and gullies, but their water supply seems to come from a cause which is not usually present in gorges. their principal observer, m. de dittmar, thought that a cold and snowy winter would add materially to the supply of ice, but he also thought that a necessity to the existence of the ice in these troughs was an abundant water supply from a spring, whose temperature should be so high as not to freeze in winter. the cold is supplied by the winter temperatures. some of the most important are reported-- in the turachtach valley. near kapitanskji sasiek. in the valley of the river belvi. in the valley of the river antscha. in the kintschen valley. in the neighborhood of kolymsk. in the werchojanski mountains. in the stanowáj mountains. kondooz. cave of yeermallik. (burslem, _a peep into toorkisthan_, , chaps. x., xi.)--in the valley of the doaub, northwest of kabul. the entrance is half way up a hill, and is about meters wide and meters high. this is a large cave, with many ramifications and galleries. in the centre of a hall far within, captain burslem found a mass of clear ice, smooth and polished as a mirror, and in the form of a beehive, with its dome-shaped top just touching the long icicles which depended from the jagged surface of the rock. a small aperture led into the interior of this cone, whose walls were about centimeters thick and which was divided into several compartments. some distance from the entrance of this cave there is a perpendicular drop of meters. a short distance beyond this, in one of the halls, were hundreds of skeletons of men, women and children, in a perfectly undisturbed state, also the prints of a naked human foot and the distinct marks of the pointed heel of an afghan boot. the moollah, who was acting as guide, said the skeletons were the remains of seven hundred men of the huzareh tribe who took refuge in the cave with their wives and children during the invasion of genghis khan, and who defended themselves so stoutly, that after trying in vain to smoke them out, the invader built them in with huge natural blocks of stone, and left them to die of hunger. some of the afghans said that the cave was inhabited by sheitan, a possibility denied by the moollah who guided captain burslem, on the philosophical plea that the cave was too cold for such an inhabitant. himÁlaya. glacière cave of amarnath. (miss mary coxe of philadelphia showed me a copy of a letter of dr. wilhelmine eger describing a visit to this cave.)--it lies three days' journey from pailgam in kashmere, on the borders of little tibet. the altitude is evidently high as one crosses snow fields to get to it. a small path zigzagging up a grassy slope leads to the cave and is a stiff climb from the valley. the cave opens on the side of a mountain and has a large, almost square mouth at least as big as the floor area within. the floor of the cave is the continuation of the grass slope and slants upwards and backwards to the back wall, the only case of the kind so far reported. this cave is most curiously connected with religion. dr. eger says that there are two small blocks of ice in it which never melt. from time immemorial these blocks of ice have been sacred to the hindoos who worship them--as re-incarnations--under the names of shiva and ganesh. dr. eger saw offerings of rice and flowers on them. thousands of pilgrims come every year at the end of july or beginning of august from all parts of india. thousands of miles have been traversed and hundreds of lives laid down through this journey. every year people die either before reaching the cave or after. the trip from pailgam in kashmere takes three days up and two days down, if one returns by a shorter route where the way is unsafe because of avalanches. so many have perished there that the pass is called "the way of death." this must be taken by one class of pilgrims, _sardhas_ or holy men, to complete the sacred circuit, but the hindoos say any one dying on the pass will go straight to heaven. icicles formed by radiation. (general sir richard strachey, _geographical journal_, , vol. xv., page .)--on the balch pass of the balch range in tibet, general strachey, in , saw icicles of which he says: "on the rocks exposed to the south were very curious incrustations of ice, icicles indeed, but standing out horizontally like fingers towards the wind. i was not able to understand how they were caused, nor can i tell why they were confined to particular spots. the thermometer stood at °[f.], and though the dew point at the time would probably have been below °[f.], and the cold produced by evaporation sufficient therefore to freeze water, yet it is evident that no condensation could ever take place simultaneously with the evaporation. * * * it has since occurred to me that these icicles were formed by radiation. i found, subsequently, in a somewhat similar position, that a thermometer suspended vertically, and simply exposed to the sky in front of it, was depressed as much as ° f. below the true temperature of the surrounding air. this result was, of course, due to the radiation through the extremely dry and rarefied atmosphere at the great elevation at which the thermometer was exposed. as radiation takes place freely from a surface of ice, the growth of such icicles as those described might be due to the condensation of vapour brought up by the southerly day winds that so constantly blow over these passes, and its accumulation in the form of ice on the exposed extremity of the icicle, the temperature of which might thus have been greatly reduced." india. ice formed by radiation. (t. a. wise, _nature_, vol. v., page ; r. h. scott, _elementary meteorology_, third ed., pages , .)--mr. bunford samuel called my attention to the mode of manufacturing ice by radiation in india. it is as follows:-- "a very practical use of nocturnal radiation has been made from time immemorial in india in the preparation of ice, and on such a scale that about tons of ice can be procured in a single night from twenty beds of the dimensions about to be given, when the temperature of the air is ° or ° [f.] above the freezing point. * * * the locality referred to is the immediate neighborhood of calcutta. a rectangular piece of ground is marked out, lying east and west, and measuring by feet. this is excavated to the depth of two feet and filled with rice straw rather loosely laid, to within six inches of the surface of the ground. the ice is formed in shallow dishes of porous earthenware, and the amount of water placed in each is regulated by the amount of ice expected. "in the cold weather, when the temperature of the air at the ice fields is under °, ice is formed in the dishes. the freezing is most active with n. n. w. airs, as these are driest; it ceases entirely with southerly or easterly airs, even though their temperature may be lower than that of the n. n. w. wind. "no ice is formed if the wind is sufficiently strong to be called a breeze, for the air is not left long enough at rest, above the bed, for its temperature to fall sufficiently, by the action of radiation. "the rice straw, being kept loose and perfectly dry, cuts off the access of heat from the surface of the ground below it, and, when the sun goes down, the straw being a powerful radiator, the temperature of the air in contact with the dishes is reduced some ° below that prevailing some two or three feet above them. the rapid evaporation of the water into the dry air above creates also an active demand for heat to be rendered latent in the formation of steam, and the result of all these agencies is the formation of ice, under favorable circumstances, on the extensive scale above mentioned." korea. glacière cave on the han gang.--messrs. j. edward farnum and george l. farnum, of philadelphia, inform me that they saw a small cave containing ice on the banks of one of the korean rivers. it is about kilometers from seoul, nearly northeast, near the ferry where the old road leading from seoul towards northern korea crosses the han gang, the river which passes by seoul. the entrance is small; perhaps meters wide. the cave is not thoroughly explored. ice lies near the entrance, and as far back as the messrs. farnum could see. japan. glacière lava cave near shoji. (_evening telegraph, philadelphia, january d, ._)--the cave is about kilometers from shoji, and is in lava. first there is a pit in the forest, some meters wide by meters deep. the cave opens into this. it seems to be some meters long and from meters to meters high. there is an ice floor in places, also many ice stalagmites. at the furthest point reached there is a strong air current, which extinguishes torches and so far has prevented further exploration. ice from the cave has been cut by the country people for sale at kofu, which is not far distant. part iv. some opinions about glaciÈres. some opinions about glaciÈres. benigne poissenot, in , hinted that the cold of winter produced the ice at chaux-les-passavant.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . reichard strein and christoph schallenberger visited the caves on the Ötscher in .[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . gollut, in , suggested the cold of winter as the cause of the ice at chaux-les-passavant.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . in the _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , tome ii., pages , , there is an account, with no author's name, of chaux-les-passavant. the memoir states that in winter the cave is filled with thick vapors and that after some trees were cut down near the entrance, the ice was less abundant than formerly: that people come for ice with carts and mules, but that the ice does not become exhausted, for one day of great heat forms more ice than could be carried away in eight days in carts and wagons: and that when a fog forms in the cave, there is assuredly rain the following day, and that the peasants in the neighborhood consult this curious "almanac" to know the weather which is coming. freiherr valvasor, in , wrote about some of the glacières of the krain.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: pages , . behrens, in , thought it was colder in summer than in winter in the caves near questenberg in the harz. m. de billerez, in , writes that at chaux-les-passavant it is really colder in summer than in winter; and that the ice is harder than river ice, and this he thinks is due to the presence of a nitrous or ammoniacal salt, which he says he found in the rocks. m. de boz made four trips to chaux-les-passavant on the th of may and th of november, ; and the th of march and th of august, . his memoir says that his observations tend to disprove those of m. de billerez, and that "the cause for the great cold, which is less great in summer, although always remaining, is quite natural." he cites as causes for the ice the exposure to the north-north-east; the rock portal sheltering the entrance, and all the forest covering the surrounding lands; and adds that some veracious persons told him that since some of the big trees above the grotto had been cut down there was less ice than before. he found no traces of salt, nor any springs, and that the water supply came from the rains and melted snows filtering through the ground. in , matthias bel published his curious account of szilize.[ ] [ ] see part iii.: page . j. n. nagel, a vienna mathematician, visited the Ötscher in . he concluded that the ice was made in winter and preserved in summer as in an ice house. m. de cossigny wrote, in , about chaux-les-passavant. he made a plan of the cave and took many observations in april, august and october, and concluded that the interior condition of the cave does not change noticeably from winter to summer, no matter what the external conditions of temperature may be; that what people say of greater cold in summer, vanishes before actual experience and that, as a state of freezing reigns more or less continuously in the cave, it is not surprising if the ice accumulates. apparently he was the first to notice and insist on the necessity of drainage to the cave through cracks in the rocks. he also made a series of observations disproving those of m. de billerez, as to the presence of any kinds of salts in the rocks or ice. hacquet, in , thought that the ice in the cave at lazhna-gora formed in winter, but he also thought that there must undoubtedly be some salt in the water. he says he found ice in the cave in the spring, and that his companion, a priest, had never found any in winter. he therefore concluded that by that time it had all melted. romain joly, in , claims to have visited chaux-les-passavant on the th of september (year not given). his account seems largely borrowed from the one in the _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, in . he says: "this ice is formed by the drops of water which fall from the roof, and which freeze because of the chill of the cave. in the winter there is no ice, but running water." he says nothing, however, about the ice forming in summer. the _citoyen_ girod-chantrans visited chaux-les-passavant in august, , and reached the conclusion, from all he saw and heard, that the cave did not freeze in summer nor thaw in winter, and that it was really a natural ice house. he was aided by the notes of a neighboring physician, dr. oudot, who had made observations in the cave, and among others, had placed stakes of wood, on the th of january, , in the heads of the columns he had found in the cave; and on the d of february, , had found these stakes completely covered with ice, forming columns centimeters in diameter. hablizl, in , wrote that the ice in the cave near karassoubazar formed in the spring by the snows which melt, run into the cave, and refreeze. he also thought that there was less ice there in the fall than in the spring, that it diminishes in july and august, and that the idea, current in the neighborhood, of the formation of ice in summer, is a mistake. professor pierre prévost, in , gave an accurate explanation of the formation of the ice in chaux-les-passavant. he says: "weighing carefully the local circumstances, one discovers in truth a few causes of permanent cold. but these causes seem rather suited to keep up a great freshness or to diminish the heat of summer, than to produce a cold such as that which reigns in the cavern. first of all, big trees throw shade over the entrance; it is, i was told, forbidden under severe penalties to cut down any of them, for fear of depriving the grotto of a necessary shelter. in the second place, this entrance is situated almost due north, leaning a little to the east, which is the coolest exposure one can choose, and the one most suited to help the effect of the icy winds which blow from that quarter. finally the slope is steep and the grotto deep and covered with a thick vault. these three conditions united constitute, as it seems to me, a very good _ice house_; by which i mean a reservoir fit to preserve during the summer, the ice which may bank up in winter. "but how does this ice bank up? one knows that the outside waters above form on the roof, during the winter, long drops and stalactites of ice. these icicles, which hang down and increase constantly by the drip from the same source which formed them, fall at last, carried away by their own weight, and form so many centres, around which freeze the waters with which the floor of the grotto is always inundated. at the same time, the blowing of the north wind accumulates snow at the base of the slope, which is uncovered in part and exposed above to all the vicissitudes of the weather. thus during the winter is formed an irregular heap of ice and snow, which the first heats of spring begin to make run, but which the heats of summer cannot finish dissolving. the winter following has therefore even more facility to augment the mass of these ice pyramids, which have resisted until the fall. and if men did not work at diminishing it, it might happen that it would fill the entire cavern at last to a great height. "i am therefore strongly inclined to think that the process of nature is here precisely similar to that of art; that without any especial cause of cold, the natural glacière of besançon conserves in the moderate temperature of deep caverns, the heaps of snow and ice which the winds and the outside waters accumulate there during the winter; and that the melting of these snows and of these accumulated ices forms little by little the ice floor, scattered over with blocks and pyramids, which one observes there during the summer." horace bénédict de saussure, the great swiss scientist and mountaineer, in , published a number of observations about cold current caves in various parts of the alps. he found that in summer the air blows outward at the lower end, and that in winter it draws inward. his explanation is that in summer the colder air in the tube is heavier than the outside air and displaces it by gravity; while in winter the rupture takes place in the other direction, since the column within the tube is warmer than the outside air and therefore is pushed upwards by the heavy air flowing in. he concludes that evaporation due to the air passing internally over moist rocks suffices to explain the phenomenon of low temperatures and that such caves have a rather lower temperature in the alps than in italy owing to the greater natural cold of the swiss lake region. an experiment of his is worth mentioning. he passed a current of air through a glass tube, . centimeters in diameter, filled with moistened stones, and found that the air current which entered with a temperature of . ° came out with a temperature of . °, that is with a loss of . ° of heat. robert townson, ll.d., in , published an account, perhaps the first in english, of a glacière cave. he says of szilize: "ice i truly found here in abundance, and it was mid-summer, but in a state of thaw; the bed of ice, which covered the floor of the cavern was thinly covered with water and everything announced a thaw. i had no need to use my thermometer: however i placed it in the ice and it fell to ° of réaumur: i then wiped it and placed it in a niche in the rock, at the furthest part of the cavern, a yard above the ice and here it remained near an hour: when i returned i found it at °. * * * everything therefore, ice, water and atmosphere in the neighborhood had the same temperature, and that was the temperature of melting ice: ° réaumur. "when then is the ice which is found here, and in such quantities that this cavern serves the few opulent nobility in the neighborhood as an ice house, formed? surely in winter, though not by the first frost, not so soon as ice is formed in the open air. no doubt, from the little communication this cavern has with the atmosphere, it will be but little and slowly affected by the change. should therefore, mr. bel, or any of his friends, have come here to verify the common report at the commencement of a severe frost, when the whole country was covered with ice and snow, they might still have found nothing here but water, or the ice of the preceding winter in a state of thaw, and the cavern relatively warm; and likewise, should they have visited it in a warm spring, which had succeeded to a severe winter, they might have found nothing here but frost and ice; and even the fresh melted snow, percolating through the roof of this cavern, might again have been congealed to ice. i observed frequently in germany in the severe winter of - , on a sudden thaw, that the walls of churches and other public buildings, on the outside were white and covered with a hoar frost, and the windows on the same side covered with a rime." dr. franz sartori, in , was a strong believer in the summer ice theory, and wrote of the flies and the gnats, the bats and the owls, and the foxes and the hares coming to szilize to winter. alexander von humboldt, in , says about the cueva del hielo on the peak of teneriffe that so much snow and ice are stored up in winter that the summer heat cannot melt it all, and also adds that permanent snow in caves must depend more on the amount of winter snow, and the freedom from hot winds, than on the absolute altitude of the cave. dewey, in , thought that the ice in the snow glen at williamstown was a winter formation. professor m. a. pictet visited saint-georges, le brezon and montarquis and in endeavored to prove that they are cold current caves and that the ice in them is due entirely to draughts causing evaporation. he believed in the theory of the ice forming in summer more than in winter and that it could not be the residue of a winter deposit. he therefore argued that it must be due to descending currents of air which he thought would be most energetic in summer; that they would become at least as low as the mean annual temperature of the place and be still further cooled by evaporation. the strange thing about his theories is that he does not seem to have personally observed any draughts either at saint-georges or le brezon, but the fact that the ice was evidently not an accumulation of winter snow led him to try to reconcile what he had himself seen with de saussure's theories about windholes. jean andré deluc in published a paper discussing the theories of mm. de cossigny, prévost and pictet. deluc had never visited a glacière himself, but he explains clearly the impossibility of professor pictet's cold current theory, on the simple ground that professor pictet himself did not find any cold currents. he takes up professor prévost's theories warmly; using also the manuscript notes of mons. colladon who had visited the grand cave de montarquis. deluc says: "that the winter's cold penetrates into these caves, freezes the water which collects there and that the ice thus formed has not the time to melt during the following summer." he says further: "it seems that in the three glacières with which we have been occupied there is a flat or rather hollow bottom, where the waters can form a more or less deep pond, and whence they therefore cannot flow away; it is there they flow in winter; and as these are shut in places where the air cannot circulate, the heats of summer can only penetrate very feebly. the ice once formed in such cavities, only melts slowly; for one knows that ice in melting, absorbs ° of heat; and where find this heat in an air always very cold and nearly still? during a great cold, the ice forms with great promptness, while it melts with much slowness, even when the temperature of the air is several degrees above zero; what must then not be this slowness when the temperature of the interior air only rises in summer one degree above freezing point. it would need several summers to melt this ice if it did not reform each winter." c. a. lee, in , wrote that the ice in the wolfshollow near salisbury was a winter formation. g. poulett scrope, in , accepted as the truth the statement that the cave of roth was filled with ice in summer, but that it was warm during the winter. in , he explained the presence of ice at pontgibaud as follows: "the water is apparently frozen by means of the powerful evaporation produced by a current of very dry air issuing from some long fissures or arched galleries which communicate with the cave, and owing its dryness to the absorbent qualities of the lava through which it passes." f. reich, in , thought that there were two possible causes which might produce subterranean ice: , the difference in specific gravity between warm and cold air; , evaporation. he thought the cold air a sufficient cause in most caves, but he considered that evaporation also played a part not infrequently. professor silliman, in , gave the first hint, in the negative, about compressed air as a cause for subterranean ice. he said about owego that if one could suppose that compressed gases or a compressed atmosphere were escaping from the water or near it, this would indicate a source of cold, but that as there is no indication of this in the water, the explanation is unavailable. professor a. pleischl wrote in that he was told that ice formed on the pleschiwetz and on the steinberge in summer. continuing, he says: "the author is therefore, as well as for other reasons, of the opinion, that the ice is not remaining winter ice, but a summer formation, and one formed by the cold of evaporation. * * * the basalt is, as a thick stone, a good conductor for the heat, and takes up therefore easily the sun's warmth, but parts with it easily to other neighboring bodies. in the hollows, between the basalt blocks, is found, as i already mentioned, rotting moss, which forms a spongy mass, which is wet through with water. the basalt heated by the sun's rays now causes a part of the water in the spongy mass to vaporize; for this evaporation the water needs heat, which it withdraws from the neighboring bodies and in part from water, and makes the water so cold, that it freezes into ice, as, under the bell of an air pump--nature therefore makes here a physical experiment on the largest scale." much stress appears to have been laid on the paper of professor pleischl by professor krauss and one or two others. the weak point in it is that pleischl did not see the ice form in summer, but was only, as usual, told that it did so. there is nothing in the facts given to show that the places mentioned are different from any other taluses, where ice does not form as the result of heat. mr. c. b. hayden, in , wrote about the ice mountain in virginia, and held that the porous nature of the rocks makes them poor conductors of heat, and that the mountain is a huge sandstone refrigerator. dr. s. pearl lathrop, in , wrote of the ice bed at wallingford, vermont, as a great natural refrigerator. sir roderick impey murchison wrote in about the salt mine and freezing cave of illetzkaya-zatschita. he visited them during a hot august, and was assured that the cold within is greatest when the external air is hottest and driest; that the fall of rain and a moist atmosphere produce some diminution in the cold of the cave and that on the setting in of winter the ice disappears entirely. he accepted these statements evidently only in a half hearted way, submitting them to sir john herschel, who tried to explain them, in case they were true, of which herschel was likewise doubtful. murchison at first thought that the ice was due to the underlying bed of salt, but soon recognized that this explanation could not be correct. he also rejected herschel's "heat and cold wave" theory. shortly after this he came across pictet's memoir, and on the strength of it concluded that the ice in illetzkaya-zatschita could not be the residue of a winter deposit, but must be due to descending currents of air; to the previously wet and damp roof affording a passage to water; and to the excessive dryness of the external air of these southern steppes contributing powerfully to the refrigerating effects of evaporation. professor arnold guyot, in , said that the well at owego admitted large quantities of snow which melts, but not readily, because it is not accessible to the sun. it therefore goes through the same process as glaciers, of partly melting and refreezing; and we have the formation of a glacier without movement. professor w. b. rogers, in , held that the well at owego became the recipient of the coldest air of the neighborhood, and the temperature remained abnormal because the bad conducting power of the materials of the well retained the cold. professor d. olmstead, in , held about owego that cold air exists in the interior of the earth which may have found a ventilating shaft in the well. professor petruzzi, in , considered the following requirements necessary for a glacière: a high altitude above the sea; a decided drop into the interior of the mountain; absence of all draught; protection against all warm and moist winds, therefore the opening to north and east. he also says about the glacière on the pograca: that it is in shadow; that the thick forest round the mouth keeps the temperature down; that it begins to freeze below when it does above; that the cold remains there into the spring; and that the water from rain or other sources, which flows into the cave, must freeze there, and the ice form in greater quantities than the heat of summer can melt away. mr. albert d. hager wrote in : "the question now arises, why it was that such a congealed mass of earth was found in brandon at the time the frozen well was dug. my opinion is, that the bad conducting property of the solids surrounding it, the absence of ascending currents of heated air, and of subterranean streams of water in this particular locality favored such a result; and that the bad conducting property of clay, as well as that of the porous gravel associated with it, taken in connection with the highly inclined porous strata, and the disposition of heated air to rise, and the cold air to remain below, contribute to produce in the earth, at this place, a _mammoth refrigerator_, embracing essentially the same principle as that involved in the justly celebrated refrigerator known as 'winship's patent.' "clay is not only nearly impervious to air and water, but it is one of the worst conductors of heat in nature. (note.--to test the question whether clay was a poor conductor of heat or not, i took two basins of equal size, and in one put a coating of clay one-half inch thick, into which i put water of a temperature of ° fahrenheit. into the other dish, which was clean, i put water of the same temperature, and subjected the two basins to equal amounts of heat; and in five minutes the water in the clean dish indicated a temperature of ° while that of the one coated with clay was raised only to °.) if we can rely upon the statements of those who dug out the frozen earth, it rested upon a stratum of clay that lay upon the bed of pebbles in which the water was found, for it was described as being a very sticky kind of hard pan. "this being the case, if the water contained in the pebbly mass had a temperature above the freezing point, the heat would be but imperfectly transmitted to the frost, through the clay, provided there was no other way for its escape. but we have seen that the stratum of clay that overlays the bed of pebbles in the side of the gravel pit was not horizontal, but inclined towards the well at an angle of °. now if this drip was continued to the well, and existed there (which is highly probable), it will be seen that the ascending current of heated air, in the pebbly bed, would be checked upon meeting the overlying barrier of clay and be deflected out of its upward course. the tendency of heated air is to rise, hence it would continue its course along the under side of the clay, through the interstices in the bed of pebbles, till it found a place of escape at the surface, which in this case may have been at the gravel pit before named." professor edward hitchcock wrote in : "the presence of a mass of frozen gravel deep beneath the surface in brandon, was first made known by digging a well in it in the autumn of . * * * the gravel, also, rises into occasional knolls and ridges. in short, it is just such a region of sand and gravel as may be seen in many places along the western side of the green mountains; and indeed, all over new england. it is what we call modified drift, and lies above genuine drift, having been the result of aqueous agency subsequent to the drift period. * * * the well was stoned up late in the autumn of , and during the winter, ice formed upon the water in one night, two inches thick. it continued to freeze till april; after which no ice was formed on the surface, but we can testify that as late as june th, the stones of the well for four or five feet above the surface of the water were mostly coated with ice; nay, it had not wholly disappeared july th. the temperature of the water was only one degree of fahrenheit above freezing point. the ice did however disappear in the autumn but was formed again (how early we did not learn) in the winter, and so thick too that it was necessary to send some one into the well to break it. we visited the well august th, , and found the temperature °. yet only the week previous ice was seen upon the stones, and we were even told by one of the family, that a piece of ice had been drawn up the day before in the bucket. * * * these frozen deposits may have been produced during the glacial period that accompanied the formation of drift, and continued far down into the subsequent epochs of modified drift. * * * but in all the excavations both gravel and clay occur: and how almost impervious to heat must such a coating feet thick, be! it would not, however, completely protect the subjacent mass from solar heat. but there is another agency still more powerful for this end, namely, evaporation, which we think has operated here, as we shall more fully describe further on; and we think that these two agencies, namely, non-conduction and evaporation, may have preserved this frozen deposit for a very long period, from exterior influences." professor thury in says about saint-georges: "such is the _résumé_, concise but exact, of the results of our winter excursion. they furnish proof to the fact generally borne witness to by the mountaineers, that ice does not form in winter in the interior of caverns. but if this is so, it is for a very simple reason: two things are necessary for the formation of ice: cold and water. in winter, the cold is not wanting: but if there is no spring opening in the cave, the water is absent, and then no ice forms. "it is in the spring, at the time of the first melting of the snows, that the ice must form. then water at ° pours over the surface, and penetrates by the fissures of the rock and by the large openings into the chilled cavern, which is also receiving the freezing air of the nights. the grotto then makes its annual provision of ice, which after this could only diminish little by little during the whole duration of the warm season." professor thury writes about the grand cave de montarquis: "here it must be when water and cold meet, that is autumn and especially spring, the time of the first melting of the snows." "during the winter * * * the colder, heavier air comes to freeze the water of the grotto, and chill the ice and the wall of rock." "during the summer, the radiation of the vaults and the proper heat of the ground only melt a small quantity of ice because this absorbs much heat to pass into a liquid state." "the heat of the air is entirely used to melt the ice; it does not therefore manifest itself as sensible heat." "the contact of the ice ready to melt, plays in a certain way, towards the air a little warmer than itself, the rôle of an extremely absorbing body, or one which has an excessive caloric conductibility." "here the formation of the ice could not possibly be attributed to the cold caused by evaporation. the psychrometer indicated ninety-two per cent, of relative humidity: the atmosphere of the grotto was therefore almost saturated with evaporation of water, and the maximum of cold caused by evaporation was not over half a degree centigrade." about prismatic ice and a hollow pyramid, he says: "the prismatic (_aréolaire_) structure is produced later on in the ice, by a new and particular arrangement of the molecules of the already solidified water. therefore the recent stalactites are never crystallized." "in the beginning of the hot season, the atmospheric temperature of the grotto rises slowly. inferior to zero by some tenths of a degree, it produces first on the surface, in the stalactites, the prismatic structure. the temperature continues to rise, the central portions of the stalactites, still composed of ordinary ice, liquefy, and if the melting water finds some issue, either by accidental openings left between some prisms, or by the extremity of the stalactite or by some point of its surface which had escaped the action of the regular crystallization; by this opening the water escapes, and the tubular stalactite has been formed." "the column was composed of a very special ice, perfectly dry, perfectly homogeneous, translucid and whose appearance could only be compared to that of the most beautiful porcelain. i am inclined to believe that we had under our eyes a special molecular state of congealed water. this state would be produced under the influence of a constant temperature of a certain degree (note--perhaps not far from °--the actual temperature of the grotto) long prolonged. these causes can be realized more completely in glacières than anywheres else." the reverend george forrest browne, published in , _ice caves in france and switzerland_, one of the most delightful books of travel ever written, on account of the scientific accuracy and the humor of the author. he visited la genollière, saint-georges, saint-livres, chaux-les-passavant, monthézy, arc-sous-Çicon, the schafloch, haut-d'aviernoz, which he calls grand anu, chapuis, and font-d'urle. he says: "the view which deluc adopted was one which i have myself independently formed. * * * the heavy cold air of winter sinks down into the glacières, and the lighter warm air of summer cannot on ordinary principles of gravitation dislodge it, so that heat is very slowly spread in the caves; and even when some amount of heat does reach the ice, the latter melts but slowly, for ice absorbs ° c. of heat in melting; and thus, when ice is once formed, it becomes a material guarantee for the permanence of cold in the cave. for this explanation to hold good it is necessary that the level at which the ice is formed should be below the level of the entrance to the cave; otherwise the mere weight of the cold air would cause it to leave its prison as soon as the spring warmth arrived. in every single case that has come under my observation, this condition has been emphatically fulfilled. it is necessary, also, that the cave should be protected from direct radiation, as the gravitation of cold air has nothing to do with resistance to that powerful means of introducing heat. this condition, also, is fulfilled by nature in all the glacières i have visited, excepting that of s. georges; and there art has replaced the protection formerly afforded by the thick trees which grew over the hole of entrance. the effect of the second hole in the roof of this glacière is to destroy all the ice which is within range of the sun. a third and very necessary condition is, that the wind should not be allowed access to the cave; for if it were, it would infallibly bring in heated air, in spite of the specific weight of the cold air stored within. it will be understood from my description of such glacières as that of the grand anu, of monthézy, and the lower glacière of the pré de s. livres, how completely sheltered from all winds the entrances to those caves are. there can be no doubt, too, that the large surfaces which are available for evaporation have much to do with maintaining a somewhat lower temperature than the mean temperature of the place where the cave occurs." browne noticed prismatic ice several times. he says of it: "m. thury suggests also, as a possibility, what i have found to be the case by frequent observations, that the prismatic ice has greater power of resisting heat than ordinary ice. * * * a frenchman who was present in the room in which the chemical section of the british association met at bath, and heard a paper which i read there on this prismatic structure, suggested that it was probably something akin to the rhomboidal form assumed by dried mud; and i have since been struck by the great resemblance to it, as far as the surface goes, which the pits of mud left by the coprolite workers near cambridge offer, of course on a very large scale. this led me to suppose that the intense dryness which would naturally be the result of the action of some weeks or months of great cold upon subterranean ice might be one of the causes of its assuming this form, and the observations at jena would rather confirm than contradict this view: competent authorities, however, seem inclined to believe that warmth, and not cold, is the producing cause." mr. browne found a hollow cone at la genollière, for which he accounted as follows: "in the loftier part of the cave * * * ninety six drops of water in a minute splashed on to a small stone immediately under the main fissure. this stone was in the centre of a considerable area of the floor which was clear of ice. * * * i found that the edge of the ice round this clear area was much thicker than the rest of the ice on the floor, and was evidently the remains of the swelling pedestal of the column. * * * when the melted snows of spring send down to the cave, through the fissures of the rock, an abundance of water at a very low temperature and the cave itself is stored with the winter's cold, these thicker rings of ice catch first the descending water, and so a circular wall, naturally conical, is formed around the area of stones; the remaining water either running off through the interstices, or forming a floor of ice of less thickness, which yields to the next summer's drops. in the course of time, this conical wall rises, narrowing always, till a dome-like roof is at length formed and thenceforth the column is solid." from what i have observed myself, this explanation seems to fairly meet the facts. professor t. g. bonney, in , was inclined to believe that there was some connection between glacières and a glacial period. mr. w. r. raymond, in , concluded from his own observations about the lava cave in washington: that the cold air of winter freezes up the percolating waters from the surface, layer upon layer, solid from the bottom, and the accumulated ice thaws slowly in summer, being retarded by the covering which keeps out the direct rays of the sun, and by the fact that the melting ice at one end of the cave, through which the summer draught enters, itself refrigerates the air and maintains a freezing temperature at the other end. dr. c. a. white, in , says of the cavern at decorah: "the formation of the ice is probably due to the rapid evaporation of the moisture of the earth and rocks, caused by the heat of the summer sun upon the outer wall of the fissure and valley side. this outer wall is from ten to twenty feet in thickness where the ice was seen to be most abundant. the water for its production seems to be supplied by slow exudation from the inner wall of the cave." dr. krenner, in , wrote of dóbsina as "a natural ice cellar of giant dimensions, whose ice masses formed in winter, the summer does not succeed in melting." professor w. boyd dawkins wrote in : "the apparent anomaly that one only out of a group of caves exposed to the same temperature should be a glacière, may be explained by the fact that these conditions [those formulated by the rev. g. f. browne] are found in combination but rarely, and if one were absent there would be no accumulation of perpetual ice. it is very probable that the store of cold laid up in these caves, as in an ice house, has been ultimately derived from the great refrigeration of climate in europe in the glacial period." mr. theodore kirchhoff examined the lava caves in the state of washington and in wrote that he considered that the ice in the smaller ones were simply remains of the winter's cold. he thought that the ice in the large cave where there is a draught could not be accounted for in the same way, so he concluded that the ice must be due to the draught. mr. n. m. lowe, in , proposed the compressed air or capillary theory[ ] about the cave at decorah. [ ] see part ii., page . mr. john ritchie, jr., in , gave an exceedingly clear exposition of the theory in the same journal. mr. aden s. benedict, in , published his observations about decorah. he found that there was no water falling in the cave to compress the air, that there was no water falling near enough to be heard, nor any aperture giving vent to cold air in the cave. he thought that the cold of winter cools the sides of the cave several degrees below freezing point and that these rocks are so far underground that it would take a long season of hot weather to raise this temperature to the melting point of ice. in the spring the water percolates through the soil and drips on to the yet freezing rocks; on which it freezes and remains until the heat of summer penetrates to a sufficient depth to melt it away. the rocks once raised above ° remain so until the following winter and consequently if there are heavy autumn rains there is water on the rocks but no ice. mr. benedict concluded that there was nothing more mysterious about decorah than the fact that if you drop water on a cold stone it will freeze. professor friederich umlauft in wrote about glacières "that as moreover they were generally protected against warm winds and strong draughts and as their entrances look towards the north or east, there is consequently more ice formed under these conditions in winter than can melt away in summer. other ice grottoes however show the remarkable characteristic, that it is warm in them in winter, in the summer on the contrary it becomes so cold that all the dripping water freezes. they are found near snow clefts and gorges; when in the hot summer months the snow melts, then the cold which has become free presses down the temperature in the cave so much that the water freezes into ice. such grottoes are in austria at * * * frauenmauer, * * * brandstein, * * * teplitz, * * * scilize, * * * dobschauer." herr körber in wrote about the schafloch, that the stored-up winter's cold stands out as permanent adversary of the higher temperature of the earth. the thermometer proved this by its action at the end of the cave in a rock cleft, which is warmer than the rest of the cave. in september herr körber found the masses of ice less and the stalagmites smaller than in january, especially a column which in january had become a stately mountain of transparent ice. professor eberhard fugger of salzburg, has studied the caves of the untersberg carefully, having paid over eighty visits to them. he classifies freezing caverns into the following types, according to their position and their shape: according to position: , open caves, that is those whose entrance is free on a rock wall; , pit caves, where the entrance is at the bottom of a pit; , pit caves, where the pit is covered and the opening is in the roof. according to shape: , _sackhöhlen_ or chamber caverns, into which one enters immediately at the entrance; , _ganghöhlen_, or passage caves terminating in a chamber; , _röhrenhöhlen_, or passage caves where the passages continue further than the chamber. he is a strong advocate of the winter's cold theory. he says: "the ice of caves is formed by the cold of winter, and remains despite the heat of summer, as through local circumstances the quantity of heat brought to the ice is not great enough to melt it by the time when ice and snow in the open at the same altitude have already disappeared." "in order that ice may form in a cave in winter, two factors are necessary. there must be water present in some form or other, and in some way the outside cold air must be able to sink into the cave." "when the bottom of a cave is below the entrance, the outside cold winter air sinks into the cave from its weight, when the temperature of the cave air is higher than that of the outside air; and it will remain there during the warmer weather, as the warm outside air on account of its lighter weight cannot drive out the cold heavy cave air." "the most important factor for the formation of ice is the drip water. the more drip flows into a cave during the cold season, the more ice is formed; the more drip, on the contrary, flows into the cave during the warm season, the more ice is destroyed." "the warmth, which the roof of the cave gives out, is also a cause which helps to melt the ice, and a cause in fact which works the harder, the higher the temperature of the roof and the dirtier the ice floor." "if direct rays of the sun penetrate a cave, they scarcely warm up the air which they traverse, but they raise the temperature of the floor or of the walls, which they touch. they are therefore a very important factor, which may bring about the melting of the ice." "the snow slope at the mouth of a cave offers some protection against the rays of the sun, especially if it is no longer white, but covered with all sorts of dirt." "the larger the mass of ice, the longer is its duration." "a certain thickness to the roof is of importance in preserving the ice. if it is less than meters, then it is well if it is covered with outside vegetation." i entirely agree with these _dicta_ of professor fugger. in , fugger writes: "the peculiar readings of temperature, which i made in august , in the kolowratshöhle, namely on the th at m., . °, on the th at p. m., . °, on the d at a. m., . °, on the th at a. m., . °, and on the th at . p. m., - . °, i think i can attribute to the workings of the winds. in the observations themselves there could scarce be an error. all five observations were made at the same place, with the same thermometer, after at least half an hour's exposure. in the time from the th to the th of august, the temperature minimum in the town of salzburg, was °; before the th were several cloudless nights. during the whole of august scarcely any but southeast and northwest winds were blowing. the kolowratshöhle opens in a rock wall to the east; the above named winds therefore affected during the entire month the entrance to the cave and may have produced a lively evaporation in the cave, through a sort of sucking up of the cave air, and thus have created the rather decided cooling off of . ° within seventeen days." this statement, coming from professor fugger, deserves particular attention, because it would go to show: first, that the air in the kolowratshöhle, a _sackhöhle_ with only one entrance, is only apparently stagnant in summer and not really so; and second, that evaporation may act to a limited extent in a cavern where there is almost no running water. captain trouillet, in , published a paper about chaux-les-passavant. he found that when it was colder inside than outside, the internal air was nearly cut off from the outside; when it was coldest outside there was a lively disturbance. he called these two classes _périodes fermées_ and _périodes ouvertes_. he says: "the duration of a _closed period_ is measured then on the curves [of a maximum and minimum thermometer] of the interior temperatures, between a minimum and the following maximum; that of an _open period_ is between a minimum and the preceding maximum. one can thus count from the th november to the st december _open periods_ of a total duration of hours or times hours: which gives for each a duration of ½ hours. the shortest lasted hours and the longest hours. during the same interval, the _closed periods_ numbered , making a total duration of about days; the longest, which lasted from the d to the th december, was hours long." trouillet also says: "from the d to the th december, the grotto was completely isolated from the external air, and yet during three consecutive nights, the interior had three marked chills. such is the phenomenon whose cause can only lay, in our opinion, in the introduction of the dry air driven to the cave by the winds between north and east. this air on entering comes in contact with the ice and the humid roof of the cave; it saturates itself in producing a formation of vapors, and therefrom a consumption of heat which may be considerable." there are some discrepancies in this last paragraph which must be noted, for the reason that trouillet's observations are so valuable. he does not mention having seen the vapors himself, in fact the production of these vapors seems only an inference. nor is it easy to understand how the grotto could be "completely isolated from the external air" if the phenomenon lay "in the introduction of the dry air driven to the cave by the winds north and east." dr. b. schwalbe, in , wrote that "all my observations point to the fact that the rock is the cooling factor in summer, and that the cold goes out from it." he says also that "when i saw for the first time the little cave of roth, which was filled with fairly numerous ice formations, it was precisely the smallness of the volume of air and the strange appearance of the ice which made the simple cold air theory seen insufficient, nor could i later, by widening the theory and observing the localities from the basis of deluc's theory, accept it. it always seemed by all my observations that in the rock there must be a lasting source of cold. there must be a cause present, which prevents the rapid warming of the cave wall through the temperature of the ground, which also keeps the stone cool in summer and induces the main ice formation in the spring." he also hints that mr. lowe's compressed air theory may be the correct one. dr. schwalbe's work, _Über eishöhlen und eislöcher_, is one of the four or five most important contributions to glacière literature, and his opinion is entitled to great respect on account of his many observations. professor israel c. russell wrote in , about the ice beds on the yukon: "it is thought by some observers, to be an inheritance from a former period of extreme cold; but under existing climatic conditions, when ice forms beneath a layer of moss, it is preserved during the short summer, and may increase as it does on the tundras, to an astonishing thickness." in , professor russell says: "it is not probable that all the subsoil ice of northern regions has been formed in one way. along the flood plains and on the deltas of rivers where layers of clear ice are interbedded with sheets of frozen gravel and vegetable matter, as is frequently the case, it seems evident that the growth of the deposit is due, in some instances, to the flooding of previously frozen layers, and the freezing and subsequent burial of the sediment thus added to their surfaces. when spring freshets spread out sheets of débris over the flood plain of a river, as frequently happens when streams in high latitudes flow northward, the previously frozen soil and the ice of ponds and swamps may be buried and indefinitely preserved." "there is still another process by which frozen subsoil may be formed in high latitudes: this is, the effects of the cold during the long winters are not counteracted by the heat during the short summers. under the conditions now prevailing in northern alaska, where the mean annual temperature is below ° fahrenheit, the frozen layer tends to increase the thickness from year to year just as the depth of frozen soil in more temperate latitudes may increase from month to month during the winter season. during the short northern summers, especially where the ground is moss covered, melting only extends a few inches below the surface." mons. e. a. martel, in , wrote of the creux-percé: "i incline only, as in all the pits which narrow at the bottom (_avens à rétrécissement_) to attribute the chilling to the fall of the cold air of winter and to its non-renewal in summer." and at page of _les abimes_ he says: "one knows that _evaporation_ is an active cause of cooling; therefore it is always cooler in caves near the drips of water. * * * i have positively noted this influence of evaporation near the drips of tabourel ( ° instead of . °), of dargilan, of the cerna jama, and in abysses with double mouths where there were strong draughts (rabanel, biau, fosse-mobile, etc.)." in december, , mons. martel writes: "in short, the action of the winter's cold is the real cause accepted by * * * and recently confirmed by fugger, trouillet and martel." and also: "it is probable that this influence [evaporation] is only real at rather high altitudes; this is at least what seems the result of the studies of the caves of naye ( to meters) begun by professor dutoit." in , mons. martel gave an account of the glacière de naye. in this paper, he abandons definitely fossil ice, salts and the capillary theory as possible causes of underground ice. he considers that there are four causes: , shape of the cavity; , free access of snow in winter; , high altitude; , evaporation due to wind currents. the last two causes he thinks are not necessarily always present. for instance he considers that, at the creux-percé, and at chaux-les-passavant, the ice is due especially to the sack or hour-glass shape of these hollows where the summer air cannot get in on account of its lightness. at the glacière de naye, which is a big windhole, situated at an altitude of to meters, mons. martel thinks that the ice is formed by the snow and cold of winter, but that its preservation is assured by the evaporation caused by the action of the windhole. dr. terlanday, in , asserted that ice does not form in szilize in winter, and that the ice first forms in the winter in the upper part of rock fissures and that in the spring, at the time of an increase of temperature, this fissure ice is brought to the melting point by the successive entering of heat into the earth and that it then arrives at the cave, where it aids the formation of icicles. this theory about fissure ice is probably in so far correct, that the ice in the upper parts of fissures, near the surface of the ground, melts before the ice in the lower parts of fissures. the drip would then naturally run into the cave and, as long as the temperature of the cave was low, help to form cave ice. dr. hans lohmann, in , published some valuable notes about several glacières. while considering the cold of winter as the main cause of the ice, he thought evaporation a secondary cause of cold. he says: "that the cold from evaporation bears its share in cooling a cave, will not be denied. * * * the air saturated with aqueous vapor makes one think of constant evaporation. the aqueous vapor spreads itself by diffusion throughout the entire cave, and if the outside air is driest, goes to that. through this, more ice and water can always be vaporized, and to the warming elements there is furnished a cooling one. if dry winds get into the cave, then must evaporation be very lively and the chilling especially strong. through this cause alone can be explained the remarkably low temperature of + . ° in the new part of the garischen stollen, in contrast to the temperature of + . ° in the old part. the strong draught in the last drew out through its suction the damp air of the new adit, so that there had to be a strong evaporation." dr. lohmann gives some exhaustive notes about prismatic ice. he found it a product of the fall months. he thinks all the observations show that "the beginning of all prismatic formation in the ice may be looked for in the changes of temperature in the cave at the time of the formation of the ice. these cause the everywhere recognized splitting, vertically to the outer surface. the further development hangs, as shown by hagenbach and emden, on the attempt of the neighboring cells, to join into larger unities. the increase of the larger crystals is finally prevented by the melting out of the openings between the separate crystals. through this may be explained the difference in the prismatic ice in different parts of the same cave." regierungsrath franz kraus, in , wrote a short essay on glacières in _höhlenkunde_. he seems to have seen but few glacières himself, and considers the scientific side of the question by no means solved as yet. he says: "the last word will not be spoken by the geographers and the alpine climbers * * * but by the physicists, in whose field both questions really belong. only then, when the physical circumstances of the formation of the ice in glacières have been so thoroughly understood, that under the same circumstances it may be possible to build artificial glacières, only then could one say: the glacière question is definitely settled. the best proof is always experiment." he lays down several dicta which he says are universally recognized, among which is this: " . the ice formations in the débris heaps of basaltic mountains are summer ice formations. the evaporation of the infiltration water is recognized on all sides as the cause of this ice." i differ in opinion from herr kraus about this matter, and think that, on the contrary, every proof shows that the ice of basaltic taluses is not a summer formation and is not due to evaporation. herr kraus also says: "the _eishöhlen_ resemble so little the _windröhren_, that for these a proper name is quite correct. just as one cannot draw a sharp line between _einstürzschlünden_ and _einstürzdolinen_, so one cannot draw a sharp line between _eishöhlen_ and _windröhren_. a stagnation of cave air does not exist, and no cave student would pretend to say it existed. the circulation of air may in certain caves take place almost entirely through the mouth and it then depends largely on the shape of the latter; in other caves are crevices and erosion holes, which allow a circulation of air. again in other caves air may come through the floor into the cave, as is proved by certain places always remaining free from ice." he also says: "the formation of dripstone is also diminished about thick roofs, when the cracks are too broad to permit a slow dripping process. in caves with sufficient air movements, that is ventilation, the dripstone formation takes place faster than in those in which the air is only slowly renewed. also in such caves, in which the air is strongly filled with moisture, the dripstone formation process is materially hindered. therefore in water caves and in _eishöhlen_ one finds only rarely dripstone formations, and these mainly of poor appearance. but in all cases the carbonic acid of the infiltration water plays an important part." in , a western newspaper published the following explanation about the presence of ice in the cave at elkinsville, indiana; and it shows how the idea--long since exploded--of the ice being due to chemical causes, serenely bobs up on the discovery of a new cave: "some have advanced the theory that the air is forced through under passages of the earth with such pressure as to make the strange formation; some have attributed the cause to an underlying bed of alkali, whose chemical change to a gaseous form has produced the phenomenon. others have thought that the interior heat of the earth, acting upon the iron pyrites, or fool's gold, which largely abounds in this country, is the true source of this unparalleled discovery. still others think that the sudden expansion of the carbonic acid gas given off by the heated limestone, which is also common in this country, could have easily produced the ice. but thus far the theories are nothing more than speculation, and further than the fact that the ice cave exists, and is, indeed, a remarkable phenomenon, none has been able to further determine." in , dr. a. cvijic wrote that the cold air of winter is the source of cold in the glacières of servia. the mountains have so little water that the shepherds constantly take the ice out in summer for their own use. in , numerous newspapers, among others, the _philadelphia press_ of august st, romanced as follows about the cave at decorah: "in the summer its temperature is far below freezing. * * * from some unknown source in the impenetrable rear of the cave comes a blast of cold air as chill as from the arctic region. in the winter the temperature of the cave is like summer. * * * we followed the winding passage in and out for more than feet. * * * i took out the thermometer and laid it upon the floor of the cavern for three minutes. when i took it up again i found that the mercury had fallen to degrees below zero." "what is it that causes this phenomenon? scientific men are said to have visited the cave within the last day or two who have declared that it had in some manner a subterranean connection with the polar regions, and that the cold air from the north coming in contact with the warm moist atmosphere from outside converted the vapor into water on the walls of the cavern where it straightway congealed. * * * it seems to me possible after thinking the matter over carefully, that in some mysterious manner the same influences that work the changes in climate in the arctic and antarctic regions are operating in this cave. it is a well-known fact that in the regions referred to the seasons are the reverse of what they are here." mr. w. s. auchincloss writes in : "we also notice the working of the same principle during summer days. the hottest part does not occur at the noon hour--when the sun is on the meridian--but several hours later in the afternoon. in this case the accessions of heat arrive more rapidly than radiation is able to carry off. radiation, however, keeps on apace, and, at last attaining the mastery, temperature falls. ice caves furnish another example of the gradual procession in the seasons." mr. alois f. kovarik writes about decorah in that "the length of duration of the ice in the cave during the spring and summer depends upon the quantity of cold stored up in the walls and this again upon the coldness and the length of coldness of the previous winter. if the winter be severe and long, the walls will store up a great supply of cold for the gradual dissipation in the spring and summer and consequently the phenomenon of the ice in the ice chambers will last longer. last winter, with an exception of the fore part of december, was quite mild. as a result, the ice began to disappear with the latter part of june, and totally disappeared by the end of july. * * * the time of the lowest temperature in the cave depends upon how soon the cold spells of the winter begin; for the sooner the walls begin to freeze to a greater depth, the sooner have they stored up the greatest amount of cold. * * * february th, , when the walls contained the greatest amount of cold, there was no ice in the cave, for the reason that no water made appearance. could water have appeared, no doubt a great amount of ice would have formed; but as the conditions are, the water has to come from the ground outside, and this being frozen at the time, water could not in any natural way appear. if in early spring, sufficiently warm days should come to melt the snow and open the ground, the water not taken up by the ground would flow and seep through crevices into the cave and ice consequently would appear early. somewhat such conditions prevailed this year, for warm days appeared quite early in the spring. if _per contra_ the ground does not open until in april, as was the case in and , the appearance of the ice is consequently delayed. * * * naturally this opening [the entrance] was small, but to give easier entrance, it was enlarged to its present size. * * * if the entrance had been left a small opening, as it naturally was, it is my belief that the temperature of the interior of the cave would be lower in summer than it is, and the ice would not disappear as soon as it does." mr. robert butler, of san josé, cal., investigated the question of cold air draughts coming from the glacière cave and from the freezing shaft he examined in montana. he wrote to me, in , that he found that one notices or imagines to notice a draught of air, especially on hot days. rapidly walking into the cave from the hot air without to the rapidly cooling air within produces the same nervous sensations as though one were to remain stationary and the air were to pass by from the warm to the colder portions. a distance of twelve meters finds a difference in temperature of fifteen degrees centigrade. twelve meters can be walked quickly, so quickly that the nerves cannot become accustomed gradually to the change of temperature. the rapidly cooling air does actually produce the sensation of cool air passing by one's face. it produces somewhat the same sensation as the evaporation of ether on the surface of the body. mr. butler satisfied himself that as far as he had observed all the seemingly peculiar conditions and places where the ice has been found do not indicate any other causes when carefully investigated than those of the seasons of the year, and that the ice was formed by no other cause than the natural cold of winter. professor cranmer, in , added some important contributions to our knowledge of freezing caverns. all his work goes to prove the winter's cold theory, but he has brought out some new details. he found warm and cold periods in the tablerloch during the winter months. the coldest air sank to the bottom and the air in the cave stratified itself according to its specific gravity and its temperature. during a cold period, the outside air sank into the cave only to the air stratum, whose temperature, from the preceding warm period, was as much higher as that of the outer air, as this had become warmer in sinking to that stratum. the air which enters falls down the slope and displaces an equal volume of air which streams out under the roof. water will sometimes drip through a crack in winter until that crack freezes up, when the water may then find some other crack to drip through; at this second place a stalagmite may then grow, while at the first place the stalagmite may stop growing and even begin to diminish from evaporation. ice begins to form, whenever water gets into a cave, if the cave temperature is below °; ice begins to melt as soon as the temperature is over °. professor cranmer found that occasionally small quantities of ice form in caves in the summer months: this was in mountain caves, where there was snow on the mountains and the temperature of the nights at least, had sunk below freezing point: in fact when the conditions were those of the winter months. part v. list of authors. list of authors.[ ] [ ] this list of authors includes all the authorities which i have personally consulted. several papers, such as dr. schwalbe's "_uebersichtliche zusammenstellung literarischer notizen ueber eishöhlen_" and the works of dr. listoff, i have been unable to find in any library. allen, levi. _scientific american, new series_, october th, , page . _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xxxvi., page . auchincloss, w. s., c. e. _waters within the earth and the laws of rainflow_, philadelphia, . badin, adolphe. _grottes et cavernes_, paris, hachette, . baedeker, karl. _handbook of austria._ _handbook of the eastern alps._ _handbook of south eastern france._ _handbook of switzerland._ _handbook of the united states._ baker, m. s. _the lava region of northern california: sierra club bulletin_, san francisco, cal., , vol. ii., page . balch, edwin swift. _ice caves and the causes of subterranean ice_: allen, lane & scott, philadelphia, november, , and _the journal of the franklin institute_, philadelphia, march, , vol. cxliii., pages - . _ice cave hunting in central europe: appalachia_, boston, , vol. viii., pages - . _subterranean ice deposits in america: journal of the franklin institute_, philadelphia, april, , vol. cxlvii., pages - . baltzer, dr. a. _eine neue eishöhle im berner oberland: jahrbuch des schweizer alpen club_, bern, - , pages - . behrens, dr. georg henning. _hercynia curiosa_, nordhausen, . bel, matthias. _philosophical transactions_, london, , vol. xli., page _et seq._ benedict, aiden s. _decorah republican_, june th, . berthoud, edward l. _american journal of science and arts_, third series, , vol. xi., page . bielz, e. albert. _siebenbürgen, handbuch_, carl graeser, wien, . billerez, mons. de. _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , page _et seq._ bonney, t. g. _the alpine regions, ._ _nature_, vol. xi., pages , , . boué, dr. ami. _la turquie d'europe_, paris, , vol. i., page . _sitzungsbericht der k. k. akademie der wissenschaften in wien_, , i. theil, page _et seq._ boz, mons. de, ingénieur du roy. _histoire de l'académie royale des sciences_, , pages , . browne, the reverend g. f. _ice caves in france and switzerland_, london, longmans, . _ice caves of annecy: good words_, edinburgh, november, . _bulletin, the evening_, philadelphia, march st, . burslem, captain rollo. _a peep into toorkisthan_, . c. b. a. _scientific american_, may d, . cantwell, lieutenant j. c. _ice cliffs on the kowak river: national geographic magazine_, october, . carrel, chanoine g. _bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xxxiv., page . _christian herald_, march th, . colladon. his manuscript notes were used by j. a. deluc in _annales de chimie et de physique_, paris, , vol. xxi., page _et seq._ cossigny, mons. de, ingénieur en chef de besançon. _mémoires de mathématique et de physique présentés à l'académie royale des sciences_, , vol. i., page _et seq._ cranmer, professor hans. _eishöhlen und windröhren studien: abhandlungen der k. k. geographischen gesellschaft in wien_, vol. i., . cranmer, professor hans, and sieger, professor dr. rob. _untersuchungen in den oetscherhöhlen: globus_, , vol. lxxv., pages - , and - . cvijic, dr. a. _les glacières naturelles de serbie: spélunca, bulletin de la société de spéléologie_, ^{me} année, paris, , pages - . dawkins, professor w. boyd. _cave hunting_, london, macmillan, . deluc, jean andré, neveu. _des glacières naturelles et de la cause qui forme la glace dans ces cavités_, genève october, : _annales de chimie et de physique_, paris, , vol. xxi., page _et seq._ dent, r. k., and hill, joseph. _historic staffordshire_, birmingham, . dewey. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. i., page , and , vol. v., page . _dispatch_: frankford, pennsylvania, d january, . dittmar, c. v. _ueber die eismülden im Östlichen sibirien: bulletin de la classe physico-mathématique de l'académie impériale des sciences de st. pétersbourg_, , tome xi., pages - . drioton, clément. _les cavernes de la côte d'or: mémoires de la société de spéléologie_, paris, , vol. i., page . dufour, lieutenant-colonel. _notice sur la caverne et glacière naturelle du rothhorn: bibliothèque universelle de genève_, , vol. xxi., page _et seq._ dufour, l. _ueber das gefrieren des wassers und über die bildung des hagels: poggendorff's annalen der physik und chemie_, , vol. cxiv., pages - . dunant, c. _le parmelan et ses lapiaz: annuaire du club alpin français_, ^{me} vol., paris, . fugger, professor eberhard. _Über eishöhlen: petermann's mittheilungen_, vol. xxix., , pages - . _beobachtungen in den eishöhlen des untersberges_, salzburg, . _eishöhlen und windröhen_, salzburg, , , . _eishöhlen und windröhren: mittheilungen der k. k. geographischen gesellschaft_, vienna, , pages - . _géographie, la: bulletin de la société de géographie_, paris, , vol. i., pages - . georgi, john gottl. _bemerkungen einer reise im russischen reich_, saint petersburg, , vol. i., page . gibbs, g. _american journal of science and arts_, , second series, vol. xv., page . girardot, albert. _les dernières observations du capitaine l. trouillet à la glacière de chaux-les-passavant: mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs_, . girod-chantrans, le citoyen. _journal des mines_, prairial, an. iv., pages - . gollut, lois. _les mémoires historiques de la repub. sequanoise_, dôle, . guimard, paul. _voyage en islande et au gröenland exécuté pendant les années et _, paris, . guyot, professor arnold. _well's annual of scientific discovery_, , page . hablizl. _description physique de la contrée de la tauride_, la haye, , pages - . hacquet. _oryctographia carniolica_, leipzig, . hager, albert d. _hitchcock's geology of vermont_, , vol. i., page _et seq._ hann, hochstetter and pokorny. _allgemeine erdkunde_, , pages , . hayden, c. b. _american journal of science and arts_, , vol. xlv., page . 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journey to the lakes rakas-tal and manasorowar, in western tibet, undertaken in september, : geographical journal_, london, , vol. xv., page . _telegraph, the evening_, philadelphia, january d, , and january th, . terlanday, professor emil. _meine erfahrungen in der eishöhle von szilize: petermann's mittheilungen_, , page . _sommereisbildung in der eishöhle von szilize: petermann's mittheilungen_, , page . thomä, dr. c. _das unterirdische eisfeld bei der dornburg_, wiesbaden, . thury, héricart de. _journal des mines_, vol. xxxiii., page . _the edinburgh philosophical journal_, vol. ii., page . thury, professor. _Études sur les glacières naturelles: bibliothèque universelle, archives des sciences physiques de genève_, , vol. x., pages - . _times, the_, philadelphia, november th, . townson, robert, ll. d. _travels in hungary_, , pages - . trouillet, capitaine. _la glacière de chaux-les-passavant: mémoires de la société d'Émulation du doubs_, besançon, . umlauft, professor dr. friedrich. _die oesterreichisch-ungarische monarchie_, wien, pest, leipzig, . valvasor, johann weichard, freiherrn. _die ehre des herzogthumes crain_, laybach, . villard, l. _grottes du vercors: spélunca_, , vol. ii., page . voigt, joh. carl wilhelm. _mineralogische reisen durch das herzogthum weimar_, weimar, , vol. ii., page . ward, j. clifford. _nature_, vol. xi., page . white, dr. c. a. _geological reports of the state of iowa_, des moines, , vol. i., page . whymper, edward. _scrambles amongst the alps_, london, john murray, . winchel, alexander. _walks and talks in the geological field_, the chautauqua century press, . wise, t. a. _ice making in the tropics: nature_, macmillan, london and new york, , vol. v., pages - . index. index. page adirondack guides, opinions of, alaska, subsoil ice in, , allmen, emil von, guide, altitude of glacières, amarnath, cave of, apparently static caves, arizona, glacières in, , auchincloss, mr. w. s., auersperg, prince, ausable pond, freezing talus at, balch, mrs. geo. b., balch pass, the, bargy, mont, basins, ice, , behrens, beilstein, caves on the, bel, matthias, , benedict, mr. a. s., benner, mr., berthoule, mons., besançon, billerez, mons. de, bonney, professor t. g., , , boston natural history society, , boué, dr. a., boulder heaps, boz, mons. de, brandon, freezing well of, , , , brinckerhoff, mr. f. h., briot, mons., brisons, glacière de, browne, the rev. g. f., , , , , , , , , _bulletin, the evening_, buried glaciers, burslem, captain, butler, mr. r., , , california, glacières in, , canfield, mr. n. m., capillary or compressed air theory, carbonic acid gas, carrel, chanoine, caucasus, glacières in the, cesi, don giuseppe, chapuis, glacière de, , chatham, mr. i. c., chaux-les-passavant, glacière de, , chemical causes theory, cliff caves, , , , , , , , clothes for glacière exploration, cold caves, colladon, mons, color effects, colorado, glacières in, , cossigny, mons. de, , cotterlaz, s. j., guide, coxe, miss mary, cranmer, professor h., , , , creux-de-souci, le, crevasses, crimea, glacières in the, cushing, mr. f. h., cvijic, dr. a., , dante, daubuisson, dawkins, professor w. boyd, decorah, freezing cave of, , decorah, freezing well of, deluc, mons. j. a., démenyfálva jegbarlang, dewey, mr., , dimensions of glacières, dittmar, mons. de, dóbsina jegbarlang, , dóbsina, village of, dornburg, freezing talus at the, , dornburg, freezing cellar at the, draughts, , , , , dripstone formations in glacières, , , , , , duc de lévy, dunant, mons. c., , dutoit, professor, eastern alps, glacières in the, - eastern united states, glacières in the, - eger, dr. w., ehrlicher, mr., eisenerz, elkinsville, glacière at, , ellenville, freezing gorge at, , Émery, aymon, guide, , enfer, glacière de l', england, glacières in, , entrances of glacières, eschholz, dr., evaporation, , , , , , , , farrandsville, cave at, farnum, mr. g. l., farnum, mr. j. e., fauna of glacières, , , , , , fee glacier, ice cave in, flora of glacières, , , , , , , , , fondurle, glacière de, forms of ice, frainer eisleithen, the, , france, glacières in, - , - frauenmauerhöhle, the, freezing mines and tunnels, freezing wells, , , , , friedrichsteinerhöhle, fugger, professor e., , , , , , , , genollière, glacière de la, , geographical distribution of glacières, germany, glacières in, - giant of the valley, talus of the, girardot, mons. a., girod-chantrans, le citoyen, glacial period theory, the, glacière, advantage of term, glacière caves, glaciers, gollut, lois, , gorges and troughs, , great barrington, icy gulf near, gruber, j., guide, gsoll-alp, guyot, professor a., hablizl, hacquet, hager, mr. a. d., , hall, mr. w. coleman, hart, mr. b., hartenstein, professor, haut-d'aviernoz, glacière de l', , hayden, professor c. b., heilprin, professor a., , herschel, sir john, hitchcock, professor e., hoar frost, , , holes in ice, , , , hollow ice stalagmites, , , , holschuh, mr. f., hovey, the rev. h. c., howell, mr. e. i. h., , humboldt, alexander von, ice floors, , , , , , , , , , , ice formed by radiation, - iceland, glacières in, , ice near entrance of caves, ice sheets, subterranean, ice slabs on floor, ice slopes, , , , , , ice spring, oregon, the, ice stalactites and stalagmites, , , , , , , , italy, glacières in, - japan, glacière in, jayne, mrs. horace, joly, capucin romain, karst, glacières in the, - king's ravine, subterranean ice in, kirchhoff, mr. t., klenka, s., guide, kolowratshöhle, the, , körber, herr b., , korea, glacière in, kovarik, mr. a. f., , , , krain, glacières in the, - krauss, regierungsrath f., krenner, dr., lakes, subterranean, , lamb, mr. c., guide, lathrop, mr. s. p., lava caves, washington, learned, mr., lee, mr. c. a., legends about glacières, , lepechin, lerchenfeld, freiherr von, lewis, miss j. f., lewis, mr. j. f., liptós szt miklós, lohmann, dr. h., lowe, mr. c. e., jr., lowe, mr. c. e., sr., , lowe, mr. n. m., , luce, mr. c. o., lyell, sir charles, , manchester, marble freezing cave at, marinitsch, herr j., martel, mons. e. a., , , , , , mccabe, mr. e., meehan, mr. w. e., mercer, mr. h. c., , metric system, mist in caves, , misura, f., forester, montana, glacières in, - montarquis, grand cave de, , , montarquis, petite cave de, moonlight effects, , , morin, mons., motion in subterranean ice, movements of air, , murchison, sir r. i., nagel, j. n., naye, glacière de, nicholson, mr. c. j., niles, mr., nixloch, the, , oetscher, the seelücken on the, olmstaed, professor d., otis, mr., oudot, dr., owego, freezing well of, , paleontological remains, parmelan, mont, , parrot, g. f., peasants, opinions of, , , pelech, dr. j. e., periods in glacières, open and closed, peters, k. f., petruzzi, professor, , phillips, mr. g. b., pictet, professor m. a., pit caves, , , , , , , , pleischl, professor a., , poissenot, benigne, , poprád, pralong du reposoir, _press, the philadelphia_, preston, mr., prestwich, mr., prévost, professor p., prismatic ice, , , , , , _public ledger, the_, randolph, the ice gulch,, raymond, mr. w. r., reich, f., religious feeling about ice, , , ritchie, mr. john, jr., , , , , , rogers, professor w. b., roth, eishöhle bei, rudolf ii., kaiser, ruffiny, herr e., rumney, freezing talus at, russell, professor i. c., , saint-georges, glacière de, , , saint-georges, village of, saint-livres, glacière de, saint-livres, pré de, sakharov, dr. a., samuel, mr. b., , , sartori, dr. f., satter, professor h., saussure, h. b. de, , scandinavia, glacières in, schafloch, the, , schallenberger, c., , schellenberger eisgrotte, the, schwalbe, dr. b., , , scott, professor w. b., scrope, mr. g. p., seelisberg, the milchhaüser of, selby-hill, mr. w. d., servia, glacières in, - skerizora, cave of, skinner's cave, siberia, glacières in, - sieger, professor, silliman, professor, sirar, j., guide, snow, subterranean, , , , south america, subsoil ice in, , spruce creek, freezing talus at, , stockbridge, icy glen near, strachey, gen. sir r., strein, r., , suchenreuther eisloch, the, summer's heat theory, the, summit, glacières near, switzerland, glacières in, - szilize, cave of, tablerloch, the, taluses, , , , , , temperatures, subterranean, teneriffe, glacière on the peak of, terlanday, dr., terminology, thermometric observations, , , , , , , , , thury, professor, , , , , , , time of formation of ice, townson, r., trouillet, captain, , turrian, a. a., gendarme, umlauft, professor f., ural, glacières in the, - valvasor, freiherr, , , villard, mons. l., , viré, mons. a., wachtl, forester, wagner, mr. w. w., wallingford, the ice beds of, watertown, cave at, watertown, windholes at, waves of heat and cold, theory of, white, dr. c. a., williams, mr. w. f., williamstown, caves near, williamstown, the snow hole near, , winter's cold theory, the, windholes, , , windholes, the theory of, wordsworth, verses by, yeermallik, cave of, ziegler, herr j. m., * * * * * transcriber note images were moved so as to not split paragraphs. accents were standardized. obvious punctuation errors and typos repaired.