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M.DCOC.LXI. 184623 t fvito P/.£^/..k> Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 18C1, By D. APPLKTON & CO., In tho Clerk's Ofllco of the District Court of tlio Uiiitod tttutos for Uio SoulLorn District of Now Yorlc. vj TO E. D. PALMER, THE 8CULP1. R, THIS VOLUME 18 KESPECTFULLY Sttiiciiicb. PREFACE. »♦> The title-page alone would serve for a preface to the present volume. It is the record of a voyage, during the summer of 1859, in company with a distinguished landscape painter, along the north-eastern coast of British America, for the pur- pose of studying and sketching icebergs. It was thought, at first, that the shores in the neighborhood of St. Johns, Newfoundland, upon which many bergs are often floated in, would afford all facilities. It was found, hoAvever, upon ex- periment, that they did not. Icebergs were too few for the requisite variety ; too scattered to be reached conveniently; and too distant to be mi- nutely examined from land. One needed to be in the midst of them, where he could command VI PREFACE. views, near or remote, of all sides of them, at all hours of the day and evening. For that purpose a small vessel was hired to take us to Labrador. Favoring circumstances di- rected us to Battle Harbor, near Cape St. Louis, in the waters of which icebergs, and all facilities for sketching them, abounded. To diversify the journey, we returned through the Gulf of St. Lawrence, coasting the west of Newfoundland, and the shores of Cape Breton, and concluding with a ride across the island, and through Nova Scotia to the Bay of Fundy. If the writer has succeeded in picturing to Jiis T reader, with some freshness, what he saw and felt, then will the purpose of the book, made from notes pencilled rapidly, have been accomplished. L. L. N. y ■ > Hudson, New Jekset, 3Iarch, 1861. OOlSTTEl^TS. / -♦♦•♦- CHAPTEE I. Cool and Novel, • • • • CHAPTEE II, On the Edge of the Gulf-Stream, . • • • CHAPTEE IIL The Pointer's Story, . Ilalifax, • • CHAPTEE IV. CHAPTEE V. The Merlm, . . . CHAPTEE VI. Sydney. — Cape Breton. — ^The Ocean, CHAPTEE VII. The first Icebergs, CHAPTEE VIII. Newfoundland. — St. Johns, . PAOB 1 • • • • • )' • • . • • * * . * . * • * • . 8 15 . 19 23 . 11 80 I- viii CONTENTS CHAPTER IX. r An English Inn. — The Governor and Bishop. — Signal Hill, PAOB CHAPTEE X. The Ride to Torbay.— The lost Sailor.— The Newfoundland Dog, . 88 CHAPTER XL Torbay.— Flakes and Fish-houses.— The Fishing-barge.— The ClifiFs.— The Retreat to Flat Rock Harbor. — ^William Waterman, the fisher- man. • • • t . 41 CHAPTER XII. The Whales. — ^The Iceberg. — The Return, and the Ride to St. Johns by Starlight, ....... 62 CHAPTEE XIII. St. Mary's Church. — ^The Ride to Petty Harbor, CHAPTEE XIV. 60 Petty Harbor. — The Mountain River. — Cod-liver Oil. — The Evening Ride back to St. Johns, ..... 65 CHAPTEE XV. The Church Ship. — The Hero of Ears. — The Missionary of Labrador, 11 CHAPTEE XVI. Sunday Evening at the Bishop's.— The Rev. Mr. Wood's Talk about Icebergs, H CHAPTEE XVII. Our Vessel for Labrador.— Wreck of the Ai^o.— The Fisherman's Funeral, . . . . . . . . '79 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVIIL Our First Evening at Sea, . IX PAOB 80 CHAPTER XIX. Icebergs of the Open Sea. — ^The Ocean Chase. — ^The Retreat to Cat Harbor, . 82 CHAPTER XX. Cat Harbor. — Evening Service in Church. — The Fisherman's Fire. — ^The Return at Midnight, ...... 89 f CHAPTER XXI. After Icebergs again. — ^Among the Sea-Fowl, . . . .98 CHJLPTER XXII. Kotre Dame Bay. — ^Fogo Island and the Three Hundred Isles. — ^The Freedom of the Seas. — ^The Iceberg of the Sunset, and the Flight into Twillingate, ...... 96 CHAPTER XXIII. The Sunday in Twillingate. — ^The Morning of the Fourth, 108 CHAPTER XXIV. The Iceberg of Twillingate, • • • • 106 CHAPTER XXV. The Freedom of the Seas once more. — A Bumper to the Queen and President, ....*... 112 CHAPTER XXVI. Gull Island.— The Icebergs of Cape St. John, CHAPTER XXVIL The Splendid Icebergs of Cape St. John, . 116 . 121 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXVIII. k^oa The Seal Fields.— Seals and Sealing. — Captain Knight's Shipwreck, 129 CHAPTER XXIX. Belle Isle and the Coast. — After-dinner Discussion. — First View of Labrador. — Icebergs. — The Ocean and the Sunset, . . 186 CHAPTER XXX. The Midnight Look-out Forward. — A Stormy Night. — ^Tho Comedy in the Cabin, . . . . . . . 148 CHAPTER XXXI. The Cape and Bay of St. Louis. — ^The Iceberg. — Cariboo Island. — Battle Harbor and Island. — The Anchorage. — The Missionaries, 149 CHAPTER XXXII. Battle Island and its Scenery, . . . . ' . « . 165 CHAPTER XXXIII. Mosses, Odors, and Flowers. — A Dinner Party, . . , 161 CHAPTER XXXIV. Our Boat for the Icebergs. — After the Alpine Berg. — Study of its Western Face, . . . . . . .166 CHAPTER XXXV. The Alpine Berg. — Studies of its Southern Front. — ^Frightful Explosion and Fall of Ice. — Studies of the Western Side. — Oi'r Play with the Moose Ilorns. — Splendor of the Berg at Sunset, . . 169 CHAPTER XXXVI. Ramble among the Flowers of Battle Island. — A Visit to the Fisher- men. — Walk among the Ilills of Cariboo, . . . 179 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XXXVII. PAGE After the Bay St. Lonis Iceberg. — Windsor Castle Iceberg. — Founders Suddenly. — A Brilliant Spectacle, . . . .181 CHAPTEE XXXVIII, Sunday in Labrador. — Evening Walk to the Graveyard. — ^The Rocky Ocean Shore, . . . . . . .188 CHAPTER XXXIX. The Sail to Fox Harbor. — A Day with the Esquimaux, and our Return, 192 CHAPTER XL. A Morning Ramble over Cariboo. — Excursion on the Bay, and the Tea- drinking at the Solitary Fisherman's, . . . .196 CHAPTEE XLI. Tainting the Cavern of Great Island, and our Sail Homeward in a Gale, 200 CHAPTEE XLII. After the Iceberg of Belle Isle. — The Retreat to Cartwright's Tickle. — Bridget Kennedy's Cottage, and the Lonely Stroll over Cariboo, 204 CHAPTEE XLIII. The Iceberg of the Figure-head. — The Glory and the Music of the Sea at Evening, ....... 210 CHAPTEE XLIV. Cape St. Charles.— The Rip Van Winkle Bcrg.—The Great Castle Berg, — Studies of its Different Fronts, .... 214 CHAPTEE XLV. The Sail foi' St. Charles Mountain. — The Salmon Fishers. — The Cavern of St. Oharlcs Mountain. — Burton's Cottage. — Magnificent Scene xu CONTENTS. PAOB from St. Charles Mountain.— The Fainting of the Rip Van Winkle Berg. — ^The Ice-vase, and the Return by Moonlight, . . 219 CHAPTER XLVI. After our Last Iceberg. — ^The Isles. — ^Twilight Beauties of Icebergs. — Midnight Illumination, ...... 228 CHAPTER XLVII. Farewell to Battle Harbor. — ^The Straits of Belle Isle. — Labrador Land- scapes. — ^The Wreck of the Fishermen, 286 CHAPTER XLVIII. Sketching the Passing Bergs. — The Story of an Iceberg, . 241 >\ CHAPTER XLIX. Drifting in the Straits. — Retreat to Temple Bay. — Picturesque Scenery. — ^Voyager's Saturday Night, ..... 264 CHAPTER L. Sunday in Temple Bay. — Religious Services. — The Fisherman's Dinner and Conversation. — Chateau. — The Wreck. — ^Winters in Labrador. — ^Icebergs in the Winter. — The French Officers' Frolic with an Iceberg. — Theory of Icebergs. — Currents of the Strait. — The Red Indians. — The Return to the Vessel, .... 26*7 CHAPTER LI. Evening Walk to Temple Bay Mountain. — ^The Little Iceberg. — Troubles of the Night, and Pleasures of the Morning. — Up the Straits. — The Pinnacle of the Last Iceberg. — Gulf of St. Lawrence, ....... 2^4 CHAPTER LIL Coast Scenery. — Farewell to Labrador, 2T9 CONTENTS. xm CHAPTER LIII. PAOB Western Newfoundland. — TIic Day, tlic Islands, uud the Uigblanda of St. John. — ^Ingornachoix Bay, ..... 284 CUAPTER LIV. Slow Sailing by the Bay of Islands. — The River Humbcr.— St. George's River, Capo, and Bay. — A Brilliant Sunset, 287 CHAPTER LV. Foul Weather.— Cape AiiguiUe.— The Clearing OfiF.— The Frolic of tho Porpoises.— The New Cooks.— The Ship's Cat, . . 290 CHAPTER LVI. St. Paul's Island.— Cape North. — Coast of Cape Breton. — Sydney Light and Harbor. — ^Tho End of our Voyage to Labrador, and around Newfoundland, ...... 298 CHAPTER LVIL Farewell to Captain Knight. — On our way across Capo Breton. — A Merry Ride, and the Rustic Lover, .... SOI CHAPTER LVIII. Evening Ride to Mrs. Kelly's Tavern. — Tho Supper and the Lodging, 306 CHAPTER LIX. Sunday at David Murdoch's. — Scenery of Bras d'Or, . . 314 chap:er lx. Off for the Strait of Canso.— St. Peters, and tho Country. — David Mur- doch's Horses, and his Driving. — Plaster Cove, . . 318 CHAPTER LXI, Adieu to David and Cape Breton.— The Strait of Canso.— Our Nova Scotia Coach.— St. George's Bay.— The Ride into Antigonish, . 322 XIV CONTENTS. CHAPTEll LXII. PAGK New Glasgow. — ^Tho Hide tu Truro. — Railway lliilc to llulilux. — Purt- ing with the Piiintcr, ...... a2G CIIAl'TER LXIII. Couch Hide from Halifax to Windsor. — Tlic Prince Edward'n Man, and the Gentleman from Newfoundland, .... 32i) ClIAPTEll LXIV. Windsor. — The Avon, and the Tide. — Steamer for St. Johns, Now Brunswick. — Mines Basin. — Coast Scenery. — The Scene of Evan- geline. — Parsboro. — Tlic Buy of Fundy. — Nova Scotia and New Brunswick Shores. — St, Jolind. — Tlie Maine Coast.— Island of Grand Mauan, ....... 832 ! ILLUSTRATIONS. -•■ •-•-- FAOC No. 1.— VIGNETTE— ICEBERGS AT SUNSET, ... 1 No. 2.— A LARGE ICEBERG IN THE FORENOON LIGHT NEAR THE INTEGRITY, 110 Xo. S.— AN ARGUED ICEBERG IN THE AFTERNOON LIGHT, 180 No. 4.— ICE FALLING FROM A LOFTY BERG, . ns No. J>.— ICEBERG IN THE MORNING MIST— WHALE-BOAT, 214 No. C— ICEBERG IN THE STRAIT OF BELLE ISLE, . . 241 AFTER ICEBERGS WITH A PAINTER. CHAPTER I. COOL AND NOVEL. " After icebergs I " exclaims a prudent, but imagi- nary person, as I pencil tbe title on the front leaf of my note-book, " Why, after deer and trout among the Adirondack Mountains with John Cheeney, the Leather-stocking of those wilds, who kills his moose and panther with a pistol ; or after salmon on the Jaques Cartier and Saguenay, is thought to be quito enough for your sum- mer tourist. "After buffalo is almost too much for any not at home in the great unfenced. Uncle Sam's continental parks, where he pastures his herds, and waters them in 1 2 COOL AND NOVEL. the Platto and Colorado, and walls out the Pacific with tho Rocky Mountains. He is lathcr a fast hunter who indulges in tho cliaso in thoso fair fields. It is no hoy's play to commit yourself to mule and horse, the yawls of tho praiiie, riding yourself soro and thirsty over the grace- fully rolling, never-hreaking swells, the green seas spark- ling with dewy flowers, but never coming ashore. Tho ocean done up in solid land is weary voyaging to ono whose youthful footsteps were over the fields, to the sound of sabbath bells. " After ostriches, with the ship of the desert, although rather a hot chase for John and Jonathan over broad sands, yellow with the sunshine of centuries, and the bird speeding on legs sw' t as the spokes of the rapid wheels, is, nevertheless, a pleasure enjoyed now and then. "But after icebergs is certainly a cool, if not a novel and perilous adventure. A few climb to the ices of the Andes ; but after the ices of Greenland, except by leave of government or your merchant prince, is entirely another thing. " You will do well to recollect, that nature works in other ways in the high north than in the high Cordilleras and Alps, and especially in the latter, where she carefully slides her mer-de-glace into the warm valley, and gently melts it off, letting it run merrily and freely to the sea, COOL AND NOVKL. 8 every crystal fetter broken into silvery foam. But in Greenland she heaves her mile-wide glacier, in all its flinty hardness, into the great deep bodily, and sends it, both a glory and a terror, to flourish or perish as the cur- rents of the solemn main move it to wintry or to sum- mer climes. After icebergs 1 Weigh well the perils and the pleasures of this new summer hunting." " Wo have weighed them, I confess, not very care- fully ; only ' hefting * them a little, just enough to help us to a guess that both are somewhat heavier timn the ordinary delights and dangers of sporting nearer home. Bit, Prudens, my good friend, consider the ancient saw, * Nothing venture nothing have/ Not in the least weary of the old, wo would yet have something new, altogether new. You shall seek the beauties of scales and of plumage, and the graces of motion and the wild music of voices, among the creatures of the brooks and wood- lands. Our game, for once, is the wandering alp of the waves ; our wilderness, the ocean ; our steed, tho winged vessel ; our arms, tho pencil and tho pen ; our game- bags, the portfolio, painting-box, and note-book, all harm- less instruments, you perceive, with mild report. It is seldom that they are heard at any distance, although, at intervals, the sound has gone out as far as the guns of the battle -f»eld. AFTER ICEBERGS. I " Should we have the sport we anticipate, you may see the rarest specimen of our luck preserved in oil and colors, a method peculiar to those few, who intend their articles less for the market than for immortality, as men call the dim glimmering of things in the dusky reaches of the fast. "But you shall hear from us, from time to time, if possible, how we speed in our grand hunt, and how the pleasures and the risks make the scale of our experience vibrate. Within a few minutes, we shall be on our way to Boston, darting across grassy New England, regardless as the riders of the steeple-chase of cliff and gulf, fence, wall and jiver, with a velocity of wheels that would set the coach on fire, did not ingenuity stand over the axles putting out the flame with oil. " This evening, we meet a choice few in one of those bowery spots of Brookline, where intelligence dwells with taste and virtue, and talk of our excursion. " To-morrow, amid leave-takings, smiles and tears, and the waving of handkerchiefs, of which we shall bo only quiet spectators, with the odor of our first sea-dinner seasoning the brief excitement of the scene, and all handsomely rounded off with the quick thunder of the parting gun, we sail, at noon, in the America." CHAPTER II. ON THE EDGE OF THE OULF-STREAM. Friday Morning, June 17, 1859. Here we are on the edge of the Gulf-Stream, loitering in a fog that would seem to drape the whole Atlantic in its chilly, dismal shroud. We are as impatient as children before the drop-curtain of a country show, and in momentary ex- pectation that this unlucky mist will rise and exhibit Halifax, where we leave the steamer, and take a small coasting-vessel for Cape Breton and Newfoundland. As we anticipated, both of us have been sea-sick con- tinually. I had hoped that we should have the pleasure of one dinner at least, with that good appetite so com- mon upon coming off into the salt air. But before the soup was fairly off there came over mc the old qualm, 6 ON THE EDGK OF THE GULF-STliEAM. the herald of those dreadful impulses that drive the un- happy victim either to the side of the vessel, or down into its interior, where he lays himself out, pale and trembling, on his appointed shelf, and awaits in gloomy silence the final issue. It is needless to record, that, with that un- lucky attempt to enjoy the luxuries of the table, perished, not only the power, but the wish to eat. Yesterday, when I came on deck, I found C con- versing with Agassiz. Although so familiar with the Al- pine glaciers, and all that appertains to them, he had never seen an iceberg, and almost envied us the dehght and ex- citement of hunting them. But not even the presence and the fine talk of the great naturalist could lay the spirit of sea-sickness. Like a very adder lurking under the doorstone of appetite, it refused to hear the voice of the charmer. Out it glided, repulsive reptile ! and away we stole, creeping down into our state-room, there to bur- row in damp sheets, taciturn and melancholy " wretches, with thoughts concentred all in self" An occasionrl remark, either sad or laughable, broke the samsness of the literally rolling hours. By what particular process of mind, I shall not trouble myself to explain, the- Paint- er, who occupied the lower berth, all at once gave signs that he had come upon the borders of a capital story, and with the spirit to carry even a dull listener to the further ON THE EDGE OF THE GULF-STREAM. side of it, and keep him thoroughly amused. It was a traveller's tale, a story of his own first ride over the mountains of New Granada, accompanied by a friend, on his way to the Andes. CHAPTER III. TUE PAINTEE'S STOET. Twenty days, and most of them days of intense heat and sea-sickness, were spent on a brig from New York to the mouth of the Magdalena. In twenty minutes all that tedious voyage was sailed over again, and he was in the best humor possible for the next nine days in a steam- boat up the river, a mighty stream, whose forests appear like hills of verdure ranging along its almost endless banks. After the steamboat, came a tiresome time in a canoe, followed by a dark and fircless night in the great woods, where they were stung by the ants, and startled by the hootings and bowlings, and all the strange voices and noises of a tropical forest. Then the tale kept pace with the mules all day, jogging THE painter's STORY. 9 a a canoe. on slowly, an all-day story that pictured to the listener's mind all the passing scenery and incidents, the people and the travellers themselves, even the ears of the self- willed, ever-curious mules. Towards sunset, the way- farers found themselves journeying along the slope of a mountain, willing to turn in for the night at almost any dwelling that appeared at the road-side. The guide and the baggage were behind, and suggested the propriety of an early halt. But each place, to which they looked for- ward, seemed sufficiently repulsive, upon coming up, to make them venture on to the next. They ventured, with- out knowing it, beyond the very last, and got benighted where it was difficult enough in the broad day. After a weary ride up and up, until it did appear that they would never go down again in that direction, they stopped and consulted, but finally concluded to continue on, although the darkness was almost total, trusting to the mules to keep the path. At length it was evident that they were at the top of the mountain, and passing over upon its opposite side. Very soon, the road, a mere bridle-path, became steep and rugged, leading along the edges of pre- cipices, and down rocky, zigzag steps, that nothing but the bold, sure-footed mule would or could descend. The fact was, they were going down a fearfully dangerous mountain-road, on one of the darkest nights. And, won- 1* . 10 THE painter's STORY. derful to tell, they went down safely, coming out of the forest into a level vale beset with thickets and vine-cov- ered trees, a horrible perplexity, in which they became heated, scratched, and vexed beyond all endurance. At last, they lost the way and came to a dead halt. Here C got off, and leaving the mule with F , plunged into the bushes to feel for the path, pausing occasionally to shout and to wait for an answer. No path, however, "^ could be found. In his discouragement, he climbed a tree with the hope of seeing a light. He climbed it to the very top, and gazed around in all directions into the wide, » unbroken night. There was a star or two in the black vault, but no gleam of human dwelling to be seen below. Extremes do indeed meet, even the dreadful and the ridiculous. And so it was with C in the tree-top. From almost desperation, he passed into a frolicsome mood, and began to talk and shout, at the top of his voice, in about the only Spanish he could then speak, that ho would give cinco pesos, cinco pesos, — five dollars, five dol- lars, to any one that would come and help them. From five he rose to ten. But being scant of Spanish, he could express the ten in no other way than by doubling the cinco — cinco cinco pesos, cinco cinco pesos. Fruitless effort ! A thousand pounds would have evoked no friendly voice from the inhospitable solitude. THE painter's STOBY. 11 The airing, though, was refreshing, and ho claiabered down and attempted his way back, shouting as usual, hut now, to his surprise, getting no reply. What could it mean ? Where was F ? Had he got tired of wait- ing, and gone off ? With redoubled energy C pushed on through the interminable brush to see. He was in a perfect blaze of heat, and dripping with perspiration. A thousand vines tripped him, a thousand branches whipped him in the face. When he stopped to listen, his ears rung with the beating of his own heart, and he made the night ring too with his loud hallooing. But no one an- swered, and no mules could be found. Nothing was left but to push forward, and he did it, with a still increasing energy. Instantly, with a crack and crash he pitched headlong down quite a high bank into a broad brook. For a moment he was frightened, but finding himself sound, and safely seated on the soft bottom of the brook, he concluded to enjoy himself, moving up and down, with the warm water nearly to his neck, till he had enough of it ; when he got up, and felt his way to the op- posite bank, which, unfortunately for him, was some seven or eight feet of steep, wet clay. Again and again did he crawl nearly to the top, and slip back into the water — a treadmill operation that was no joke. A suc- cessful attempt at scaling this muddy barrier was made. 12 THE painter's STORY. at length, through tho kindly intervention of some vines. But how was all that ? Where was he ? He never crossed a stream in going to tho tree. Ho must bo lost. He must have become turned at tho tree, and gone in a wrong direction. And yet he could not relinquish the notion that all was right. He decided to continue for- ward, pausing more frequently to halloo. To his exceed- ing joy, he presently heard a faint, and no very distant re- ply. He quickly heard it again — close at hand — " C , come here I — come here ! " He hastened forward. F was sitting on the mule. He said, in a low tone of voice, " Come here, and help me off. I am very sick." He was alarmingly sick. G helped him down, and laid him on the ground. The only thing to be done was to make a rough bed of the saddles and blankets, secure the mules, and wait for daylight. "While engaged in this, one of the mules suddenly broke away, and with a perilous flourish of heels about C 's head, dashed off through the thickets, and was seen no more. To crown their troubles, a ferocious kind of ant attacked them at all points, and kept up their assault during the remainder of the miserable night. They had made their bed upon a large ant-hill. In the morning, there they were, they knew not where, with but one mule, trappings for two. THE painter's BTORY. 13 jind F too indisposed to proceed. C nioantcd tho mule and set off for relief. A short ride brought him out upon tho path, which soon led down to the border of a wide marsh. The crossing of the marsh was terrible. The poor animal sank into the mire to the girth, reared, plunged and rolled, plastering himself and rider all over and over again with the foulest mud. When they reached the solid ground, and trotted along towards some natives coming abroad to their labor, the appearance of our traveller, in quest of the sublime and beautiful, was certainly not imposing. He told his story to tho staring Indians in the best way his ingenuity could invent, none of which they could bo made to comprehend. He inquired the way to the town, the very name of which they seemed never to have heard. He asked the distance to any place, — the near- est, — no matter what. It was just as far as he was pleased to make it. " Was it two leagues ? " " Si, Sei-ior." " Was it five leagues ? " " Si, Senor/' "Was it eight, nine, ten leagues ? " "Si, Scnor." " For how much money would they guide him to the town ? " 14 THE painter's STORY. Ah 1 that was a different thing ; they had more intcl- ligencG on that Bubject. They would guide him for a great deal. In fact, they would do it for about ten times its value. He spurred his muddy mule, galloped out of sight and hearing, more amused than vexed, and went ahead at a venture. The venture was lucky. In the course of the morning ho made his entrance into the city, succeeded in finding out the residence of the person to whom he had letters of introduction, presented himself to the gentleman of the house, an American, and had both a welcome and a breakfast. Before the day was past, F and himself were comfortably settled, and, with their kind host, were making merry over their first ride on the mountains of South America. I am suio I was made r erry at the quiet recital. Lying as I was in my berth, rolled in cloak and blanket, and looking neither at the face nor motions of the speaker, but only at the blank beams and boards close above, I laughed till the tears ran copiously, and I forgot that I was miserable and sea-sick. CHAPTER IV. HALIFAX. We have now been lying for hours off Halifax. The fog appears to be in a profound slumber. Whistle, bell and big guns have no power to wake it up. The waves themselves have gone to sleep under the fleecy covering. Old Ocean lazily breathes and dreams. The top-mast, lofty and slim, marks and flourishes on the misty sky, as an idler marks the sand with his cane. Pricked on by our impatience, back and forth we step the deck, about as purposeless as leopards step their cage. They are letting off the steam. It is flowing up from the great fountains, a deep and solemn voice, a grand ventriloquism, that muffles in its breadth and fulness all the smaller sounds, as the mighty roar dampens the noisy dashings of the cataract. What a sublime translation of human skill and genius is an engine, this stupendous creature of 16 HALIFAX. iron ! How splendid are its polished limbs I What power in all those easy motions I What execution in those still and oily manosuvres I Among the ladies there is one of more than ordinary beauty. Luxuriant, dark hair, a fair complexion with the bloom of health, a head and neck that would attract a sculptor, and surpassingly fine, black eyes. There is a power in beauty. Why has not God given it to us all ? You shall answer mo that in heaven. There is indeed a power in beauty. It goes forth from this young woman on all sides, like rays from some central light. I have called her a New England girl, but she turns out to bo Welsh. How liko magic is the work of this fog ! Instantly almost it is pulled apart liko a fleece of wool, and lo ! the heavens, the ocean, and the rugged shores. A pilot comes aboard from a fishing-boat, looking as rough and craggy as if he had been, toad-like, blasted out of the rocks of his flinty country, so brown and warty is his skin, so shaggy are his beard and hair, so sail-like and tarry is his raiment. The ancient mariner for all tho world ! His skinny hand touches no common mortal. His glittering eye looks right on, as he moves with silent importance to tho place where shine the gilded buttons of the captain. HALIFAX. 17 This is a wild northern scene. Hills, bony with rock and bristling with pointed firs, slope down to the sea. But yet how beautiful is any land looking off upon the barren deeps of ocean. Distant is the city on a hill-side, j;llttcring at a thousand points, while on cither hand, as we move in at the entrance of the harbor, are the pleas- ant woods and the white dwellings, country steeples and cultivated grounds. As the comfortless mist rolls away, and the golden light follows after, warming tlie wet and chilly landscape, I feel that there are bliss and beauty in Nova Scotia. Grandly as we parade ourselves, in the presence of the country and the town, I prefer the more modest, back-street entrance of the railroad. The fact is, I am afraid of your great steamer on the main, and for the reason given by a friend of mine : if you have a smash- up on the land, why, there you are ; if, on the sea, where are you ? I have been talking with the fair lady of Wales. She was all spirit. " There was much," she said, " that was fine, in America ; but Wales was most beautiful of all. Had I ever been in Wales ? " One could well have felt sorry he was not then on his way to Wales. We parted where we met, probably to meet no more, and I went for- ward to gaze upon the crowded wharf, which we were m. % lli\ 18 HALIFAX. then approaching. A few hasty adieus to some newly- formed acquaintances, and we passed ashore to seek the steamer for Cape Breton. It was waiting for us just be- hind the storehouse where we landed, and soon followed the America with a speed not exactly in proportion to the noise and eflfort. CHAPTER V. THE MERLIN, Be it known that the Merlin, the name in which our vessel delights, is a small propeller, with a screw wheel, and a crazy mess of machinery in the middle, which go far towards making one deaf and dumb by day, but very wakeful and talkative by night ; so thoroughly are the rumbling, thumping and clanking disseminated through all those parts appointed for the passengers. The Merlin has not only her peculiar noises, but her own peculiar ways and motions ; motions half wallowing and half pro- gressive ; a compound motion very difficult to describe, at the time, mainly on account of a disagreeable con- fusion in the brain and stomach. The arrangements in the Merlin for going to repose are better than those for quitting it. No chestnut lies 20 THE MERLIN. more snugly in the burr than your passenger in his berth. If he happen to be short and slender, it is sure to fit him all the better. But when he gets out of it, he is pushed forward into company immediately, and washes in the one bowl, and looks at the one glass. On board the Mer- lin, one feels disposed to give the harshest words of his vocabulary a frequent airing. He sees how it is, and he says to himself : I have the secret of this Merlin ; she is intended to put a stojj to travel ; to hinder people from leaving Halifax for Sydney and St. Johns. Wait you eight and forty hours after this ungenerous soliloquy, and speak out then. What do you say ? The Merlin is the thing ! Away in this dusky comer of the world Peril spins her web. High and wide and deep she stretches her subtle lines : cliffs, reefs and banks, ice, currents, mists and winds. But the Merlin is no moth, no feeble insect to get entangled in this terrible snare. Dark-winged dragon- fly of the sea, she cuts right through them all. Your grand ocean steamer, with commander of repute, plays the tragic actress quite too frequently in the presence of these dread capes. But the Merlin, with Captain Samp- son's tread upon the deck, in the night and in the light, with his look ahead and his eye aloft, and his plummet in the deep sea, trips along her billowy path as lightly as THE MERLIN. 21 a lady trips among her flowers. A blessing upon Captain Sampson who sails the little Merlin from Nova Scotia to Newfoundland. He deserves to sail an Adriatic. Here we are again in that same bad fog, that smoth- ered much of our pleasure, and some of our good luck, in the America. It is gloomy midnight, and the sea is up. A pale, blue flame crowns the smoke-stack, and sheds a dreary light upon the sooty, brown sails. The breeze plays its wild music in the tight rigging, while the swells beat the bass on the hollow bow. To a landsman, how frightfully the Merlin rolls ! But we are dashing along through this awful wilderness, right steadily. Every hour carries us ten miles nearer port. Ye wandering barks, on this dark, uncertain highway, do hear the mournful clang of our bell, and turn out in time as the law of nature directs ! Ye patient, watchful mariners that keep the look-out forward, pierce the black mist with your keen sight, and spy the iceberg, that white sepulchre of the careless sailor. Just here there is a mountain in the deep, and we are crossing its summit, which accounts for the sharp, rough sea, the captain tells me. The vessel now turns into the wind, the loose sails roar and crack, and bound in their strong harness, like frightened horses ; loud voices cut through the uproar, rapid footsteps thump, and rattling ropes lash the deck. Then there 22 THE MERLIN. is a momentary lull : they heave the lead. The moun- tain top is under us, say, five hundred feet. All is right. Captain Sampson puts off into wider waters, and I, chilly and damp, creep into my berth, full of hope and sleep. le moun- AU is aters, and 1 of hope CHAPTER VI. SYDNEY. -CAPE BRETON. —THE OCEAN. Monday, June 19, 1859. Wo are still rising and sinking on the misty ocean, and somewhere on those great currents flowing from the Gulf of St. Lawrence. Yesterday", at an early hour, we were entering Sydney Harbor, Cape B eton, with a tide from sea, and a flood of brightness from the sun. The lively waters, the grassy fields dotted with white dwellings, and the dark green woodlands were bathed in splendor. A few clouds, that might have floated away from the cotton-fields of Ala- bama, kept Sunday in the quiet heavens. We went ashore with some thought of attending church, but found the time would not permit. A short walk to some In- dian huts, with the smoke curling up from their peaks like the pictures of volcanoes, a cup of tea of our own making, some toast and fresh eggs in the village tavern, » ♦ 24 SYDNFY. — CAPE BRETON. — THE OCEAN. with the comfort of sitting to enjoy them at a steady table on firm land, gave an agreeable seasoning to the hour we lingered in Sydney, and braced us for the long stretch across to Newfoundland. As you enter Sydney Bay, you see northward some remarkable cliffs, fan-like in shape as they rise from the sea. In the clear and brilliant morning air, they had a roseate and almost flame-like hue, which made them ap- pear very beautiful. I thought of them as some gigantic sea-shells placed upon the brim of the blue main. When they set in the waves, along in the afternoon, the pic- turesque coast of Cape Breton was lost to view, and we became, to all appearance, a fixture in the centre of the circle made by the sky and the sea. How wearisome it grew ! Always moving forward, — ^yet never getting further from the line behind, — never getting nearer to the line be- fore, — ever in the centre of the circle. The azure dome was over us, its pearl-colored eaves all around us. Oh I that some power would lifo its edge, all dripping with the brine of centuries, out of the ocean, and let the eye peep under I But all is changeless. We were under the cen- tre of the dome, and on the hub of the great wheel, run out upon its long spokes as rapidly and persistently as we would. Our stiff ship was dashing, breast-deep, through the green and purple banks that old Neptune SYDNEY. — CAFE BRETON. TUE OCEAN. 25 heaved up across our path. Bank after bank ho rolled up heforo us, and our strong hows hurst them all, striking foam, snowy foam, out of them hy day, and liquid jewelry out of them hy night. The circle was still around us, the tip of the dome ahove. Wo were leaving half a world of things, and approaching half a world of things, and yet we were that same fixture. Our hravo motions, after all, turned out to he a kind of writhing on a point, in the middle of the mighty ring, under the key-stone of the marvellous vault. The comfort of the weary time was, that we sailed away from the morning, passed under the noon, and came up with, and cut through the evening. When we caught up with the evening yesterday, and saw the sun set fire to, and hum off that everlastiuir rino*, we were sitting quietly on deck, touched with the sweet solemnities of the hallowed hour. The night, with all that it would hrmg us, was coming out of the east, mov- ing up its stupendous shadow over the ocean ; the day, with all it had been to us, was leaving us, going off into the west over the great continent. We were crossing the twilight, that narrow, ] nesome, neutral ground, where gloom ,'ind splendor interlock and wrestle. The little petrel piped his feeble notes, and flew close up, followin under the very feathers of the ship, now skimming the glassy hollow of the swells, and then tiptoe on the crest. 26 SYDNEY. — CAPE BRETON. THE OCEAN. The wind was strengthening, tuning every cord and straining every sail, winnowing the iiery chaff, and sowing the sparkling giiin forward on the furrowed waters. We had a vessel full of wind ; and so vessel, wind and sparks together, went away across the sea as if they were seeking some grand rendezvous. Far and wide the waves all hastened in the same direction, rolling, leaping, crumbling into foam, bristling the snowy feathers on neck and breast as they skipped and flew upon each other in their play and passion. And so we all sped forward with one will, and with one step, keeping time to the music of the mighty band : clouds, winds and billows, scabirds, sails and sparkling smoke, and Merlin with her men ; all moving forward, as some grand army moves onward to a battle-field. When there is really nothing to describe, why should not one record the conceits and fancies born of an evening at sea ? So I thought, last evening, when I was a little sea-sick, and sick of the monotony of the scene, and a little home-sick, and felt that this was pleasure rather dearly bought. Still if one would see the planet upon which he has taken his passage round the sun, and through the spaces of the universe, he must be brave and patient, hopeful and good-tempered. Be this, or turn back, at the first view of salt-water, and go homo to toil, to contentment and self-possession, CHAPTEE VII. THE FIRST ICEBERGS. Newfoundland seems to be wreathed with fogs for- ever. As a dwelling-place, this world certainly appears far from complete, — an argument for a better country. But yonder is the blue sky peeping through the mist, an intimation of that better country. A solitary bird sits upon a stick floating by, looking back curiously as it grows less and less. Now it merely dots the gleaming wave, and now it is quite wiped away. Thus float off into the past the winged pleasures of the hour. Again we are at blindman's-buff in the fog. The whistle and the bell remind us of the perils of this play. The gloom of evening deepens, and we go below with the hope of rounding Cape Kace, and of wheeling down the northern sea direct for port, before daylight. Doiun the northern sea ! — This calling north doion instead of up, 28 THE FIRST ICEBEIiaS. appears to mo to be reversing the right order of things. It is against the stream, which, inshore, sets from Baffin's Bay south ; and, in respect of latitude, it is up-hill : the nearer the pole, the higher the latitude. And besides, it is up on the map, and was up all through my boyhood, when geography was a favorite study. But as down seems to be the direction settled upon in common par- lance, doiun it shall be in all these pages. Icebergs ! Icebergs ! — The cry brought us upon deck at sunrise. There they were, two of them, a large one and a smaller : the latter pitched upon the dark and misty desert of the sea like an Arab's tent ; and the larger like a domed mosque in marble of a greenish white. The vaporous atmosphere veiled its sharp outlines, and gave it a softened, dreamy and mysterious character. Distant and dim, it was yet very grand and impressive. Enthroned on the deep in lonely majesty, the dread of mariners, and the wonder of the traveller, it was one of those imperial creations of nature that awaken powerful emotions, and illumine the imagination. Wonderful structure ! Fashioned by those fingers that wrought the glittering fabrics of the upper deep, and launched upou those adamantine ways into Arctic seas, how beautiful, how strong and terrible ! A glacier slipped into the ocean, and henceforth a wanderin_2j cape, a restless head- THE FIUST ICEBERaS. 29 land, a revolving island, to compromise tile security of tlio world's broad highway. No chart, no sounding, no knowledge of latitude avails to fix thy whereabout, thou roving Ishmael of the sea. No look-out, and no friendly hail or authoritative warning can cope with thy secrecy or thy silence. Mist and darkness are thy work-day raiment. Though the watchman lay his ear to the water, he may not hear thy coming footsteps. We gazed at the great ark of nature's building with steady, silent eyes. Motionless and solemn as a tomb, it seemed to look back over the waves as we sped forward into its grand presence. The captain changed the course of the steamer a few points so as to pass it as closely as possible. C was quietly making preparation to sketch it. The interest was momentarily increasing. We were on our way to hunt icebergs, and had unexpectedly come up with the game. We fancied it was growing colder, and felt delighted at the chilly air, as if it had been so mhch breath fresh from the living ice. To our regret, I may say, to our grief, the fog suddenly closed the view. No drop-curtain could have shut out uhe spectacle more quickly and more completely. The steamer was at once put on her true course, and the icebergs were left to piir- sue their solitary way along the misty Atlantic. CHAPTER VIII. NEWFOUNDLAND. -Bt. JOHNS, When tho mist dispersed, the rocky shores of New- foundland were close upon our left, — lofty clift'M, red and gray, terribly beaten by the waves of the broad ocean. We amused ourselves, as wo passed abreast tho bays and headlands and rugged islands, with gazing at the vyild scene, and searching out tho beauty timidly reposing among the bleak and desolate. On the whole, Newfound- land, to the voyager from the States, is a lean and bony land, in thin, ragged clothes, with the smallest amount of ornament. Along the sides of tho dull, brown mountains there is a suspicion of verdure, spotted and striped hero and there with meagre woods of birch and fir. The glory of this hard region is its coast : a wonderful perplexity of fiords, bays and creeks, islands, peninsulas and capes, endlessly picturesque, and very often magnificently grand. Nothing can well exceed the headlands and precipices. NEWFOUNDLAND. — HT. JOIINH. 31 honcy-comhcd, Hliattorod, uiul hollowed out into vast cav- erns, and given up to the thunders and the fury of tho doop-8ca billows. Head the Pirate of Scott again, and Sumhurg Head will pieture for you nuniherH of heads, of wliieh it is not important to mention tlie name. TIiu brooks that flow from the highlands, and fall over clilVs of great elevation into the very surf, and that would bo counted features of grandeur in some countries, are hero tho merest trifles, a hind of jewelry on the hem of tho landscape. Tho harbor of St. Johns is certainly one of tho most remarkable for bold and efibcuvo scenery on tho Atlantic shore. Tho pictures of it, which of late abound, and are quite truthful as miniature portraits, fail entirely to sug- gest tho grand expression and strong character of tho coast. We were moving spiritedly forward over a bright and lively sea, watching the stern headlands receding in tho south, and starting out to view in tho north, when wo passed Capo Spear, a lofty promontory, crowned with a light-house and a signal-shaft, upon which was floating the meteor-flag of England, and at once found ourselves abreast the bay in front of St. Johns. Not a vestige, though, of any thing like a city was in sight, except an- other flag flitting on a distant pinnacle of rock. Like a mighty Coliseum, the sea-wall half encircled the deep 32 NEWFOUNDLAND. — ST. JOHNS. water of this outer bay, into which the full power of tho ocean let itself under every wind except tho westerly. Eight towards the coast where it gathered itself up into the greatest massiveness, and tied itself into a very Gor- dian knot, we cut across, curious to behold when and where the rugged adamant was going to split and let us through. At length it opened, and we looked through, and presently glided i Is rough a kind of mountain-pass, with all the lonely grandeur of the Franconia Notch. Above us, and close above, the rugged, brown cliffs, roso to a fine height, armed at certain points with cannon, and before us, to all appearance, opened out a most beautiful mountain lake, with a little city looking down from the mountain side, and a swamp of shipping along its shores. We were in the harbor, and before St. Johns. As wo bade adieu to the sea, and hailed the land with our plucky little gun, the echoes rolled among the hills, and rattled along the rocky galleries of the mountains in the finest style. We were quite delighted. So fresh and novel was the prospect, so unexpected were the peculiar sentiment and character of the scene, one could hardly realize that it was old to tho experience of tens of thou- sands. I could scarcely help feeling, there was stupidity somewhere, that more had not been said about what had been seen by so many for so long a time. '/. CHAPTER IX. AN ENGLISH INN.-GOVEENOE AND BISHOP.-SIGNAL HILL. Wednesday, June 22, 1859. — We are at Warring- ton's, a genuine English inn, with nice rooms and a home- like quiet, where the finest salmon, with other luxuries, can he had at moderate prices. Every thing is English hut ourselves. I feel that the Yankee in me is ahout as prominent as the howsprit of the Great Eepuhlic, the queen ship of the metropolis of yankeedom, the renowned port from which we sailed, and through the scholarly air of which my thoughts wing their flight home. Among other qualities foremost at this moment, (and for which I discover the Bull family is certainly pre-emi- nent,) is appetite, the measure of which, at tahle, is time, not quantity. My chief solicitude at breakfast, dinner, tea and supper, is not so much about wliat I am to eat, as about how I shall cat, so as not to distinguish myself. 2* 34 AN ENGLISH INN. C , who is looked upon as one of the immortals, and I, in his wake, perhaps as his private chaplain, may be re- garded as representative people from the States. We would, therefore, avoid signalizing ourselves at the trencher. The method adopted on these frequent occa- sions, is to he on hand early, to expend small energy in useless conversation, and to retire modestly, though late, from the entertainment. It is surprising how well we acquit ourselves without exciting admiradon. I am hopeful that the impression in the house is, that we are small eaters and talkers, persons slightly diffident, who eat chiefly in order to live, and prosper on our voyage. Under this cover, it is wonderful what an amount of spoil we hear away, over which merriment applauds in the privacy of our rooms. When the gray morning light stole at the same time into my chamber and my dreams, it was raining heavily, a seasonable hindrance to early excursions, affording ample time to arrange those plans which we are now car- rying out. In company with Mr. Newman, our consul, / to whom we are indebted for unremitting attentions and hospitalities, we first called on the Bishop of Newfound- land. The visitation of his large diocese, which embraces both the island and Labrador, together with the distant THE GOVERNOR AND BISHOP. 3^ isle of Bermuda, has given him a thorough knowledge of the shores and ices of these northern seas. An hour's conversation, illustrated with maps and drawings, seems to have put us in possession of nearly all the facts neces- sary in order to a pleasant and successful expedition. At the close of our interview, during which the Bishop informed us that he was just setting off upon an exten- sive coast visitation, he very kindly invited us to join his party for the summer, and take our passage in the Hawk, his " Church Ship." It was a most tempting offer, and would have been accepted with delight had the voyage been shorter. There was no certainty of the vessel's re- turn before September, a time too long for my purposes. To be left in any port, in those out-of-the-way waters, with the expectation of a chance return, was not to bo thought of. We declined the generous offer of tho Bishop, but with real regret. To have made the tour of Newfoundland and Labrador, with a Christian gentleman and scholar so accomplished, would have been a privilege indeed. From the house of the Bishop, a neat residence near his cathedral, we climbed the hill upon which stands the palace of the Governor, Sir Alexander Bannerman, commanding a fine prospect of the town an^^ 'larbor, tho ocean and adjacent country. As we passed up the broad avenue, shaded by the poplar, birch and fir, instead of 36 SIGNAL HILL. those patricians of the wood, the maple, oak and elm ; the flag, wavmg in the cool sea-breeze, and the brown- coated soldier, pacing to and fro, reminded one of the presence of English power. His Excellency, a stately and venerable man, to whom we had come purposely to pay our respects, received us in a spacious room with an- tique furniture. During the conversation, he expressed much pleasure that a painter of distinction had come to visit the scenery of Newfoundland, and kindly offered such assistance as would facilitate sketching in the neighbor- hood. A soldier should watch for icebergs, on Signal HUl, a lofty peak that overlooks the sea ; a boat should be at his command, the moment one was needed. Upon leaving, he gave us for perusal Sir Kichard Bonnycastle's Newfoundland. From the western front of the house, we overlooked a broad vale, dotted with farmhouses, and, in its June dress of grass and dandelions, quite New-Eng- land-like. We continued our walk to Quidy Viddy, a pretty lake, and returned in time to call upon Mr. Am- brose Shea, Speaker of the Assembly, to whom C had letters of introduction. After dinner we set off for Signal Hill, the grand observatory of the country, both by nature and art. Be- fore we were half-way up, we found that Juno was June, even in Newfoundland. But there is something in a SIGNAL HILL. 37 mountain ramble that pays for all warmth and fatigue. Little rills rattled by, paths wound among rocky notches and grassy chasms, and led out to dizzy "over-looks" and " short-offs." The town with its thousand smokes sat in a kind of amphitheatre, and seemed to enjoy the spectacle of sails and colors in the harbor. Below us were the fishing-flakes, a kind of thousand-legged shelves, made of poles, ard covered with spruce boughs, for drying fish, the local term for cod, and placed like terraces or large steps one above another on the rocky slopes. We struck into a fine military road, and passed spacious stone barracks, soldiers and soldiers' families, goats and little gardens. From the observatory, situated on the craggy pinna- cle, both the rugged interior and the expanse of ocean were before us. Far off at sea a cloud of canvas was shining in the afternoon sun, a kind of golden white, while down the northern coast, distant several miles, was an iceberg. It was glittering in the siftishine like a mighty crystal. The work and play of to-r lorrow were resolved upon immediately, and we descended at our leisure, plucking the wild flowers among the moss and herbage, and gazing quietly at the hues and features of the extended prospect. CHAPTEK X. THE EIDE TO TOBBAY.— THE LOST BAILOR.-TUE NEWFOUND- LAND DOG. Thursday, June 23. We were stirring betimes, making preparations for our first venture after an iceberg. Unluckily, it was a Komish holiday, and every vehicle in town seemed to be busy carrying people about, by the time we thought it necessary to engage one for ourselves. We succeeded at length in securing a hard-riding wag- on, driven by a young Englishman, and were soon on our way, trundling along at a good pace over the smooth road leading from St. Johns to Torbay, the nearest water to our berg, and distant some eight or nine miles. The morning was fine, the sunshine cheering, the air cool and bracing, and all went promisingly. The adjacent coun- try is an elevated kind of barren, clothed with brush- wood, spruce and birch, crossed by numerous little trout brooks, and spotted with ponds and wet meadows, with THE RIDE TO TORBAY. — THE LOST SAILOR. 39 hero and there a lonely-looking hut. But there were the Bongfl of birds, the tinkling of cow-bells, and the odor of evergreens and flowers. A characteristic of the coast is its elevation above the country lying behind. Instead of descending, the lands rise, as you approach the ocean, into craggy domes, walls and towers, breaking off pre- cipitously, and affoiding from the eminences of our road prospects of sparkling sea. Our hearts were full of music, and our minds and conversation were a kind of reflection of the solitaiV scene. For months, our young man tells us, the snow lies sc deeply along this fine road as to render it im- passable for sleighs, except when suificiently hard to bear a horse. The snow-shoe is then in general use. One of the pests of early summer is the black fly, as we have already experienced. A few years ago, a sailor ran away from his vessel, at St. Johns, and took to these bushy wilds, in which, at length, he got lost, and finally j)er- ished from the bites of this pestilent fly. He was found accidentally, and in a state of insensibility, being covered with them, and so nearly devoured that he died within a few hours after his discovery. Speaking of the Newfoundland dog, ho told us that one of pure, original blood, was scarcely to bo found. I had supposed, and had good reason for it, from what I had read in the papers, about the time of the visit to St. 40 THE RIDE TO TORBAY. — THE LOST SAILOR. Johns, upon the laying of the Atlantic Cable, that any person could for a small sum purchase numbers of the finest dogs. I think a certain correspondent of some New York daily, told us that several gentlemen supplied themselves with these animals upon their departure. If such was the case, then they took away with them about the last of the real breed, a^d must have paid for them such prices as they would not like to own. Scarcely a splendid dog is now to be seen, and five, ten, and even twenty pounds sterling might be refused for him. We have not seen the first animal that compares with those which trot up and down Broadway nearly every week ; and they are not the pure-blooded creature, either, by a good deal. It is to be regretted, that dogs of such strength, beauty and sagacity should have been permitted to become almost extinct in their native country. CHAPTER XI. TOKBAY.— FLAKES AND FISH -HOUSES. —THE FISHING BARGE.— THE CLIFFS.— THE EETBEAT TO FLAT EOCK UAEBOE.— "W'lLLIAJ*! WATER- MAN, THE FISHERMAN. ToRBAY, finely described in a recent novel by the Rev. R. T. S. Lowell, is an arm of the sea, a short, strong arm with a slim hand and finger, reaching into the rocky land, and touching the waterfalls and rapids of a pretty brook. Here is a little village, with Romich and Protestant steeples, and the dwellings of fishermen, with the uni- versal appendages of fishing-houses, boats and flakes. One seldom looks upon a hamlet so picturesque and wild. The rocks slope steeply down to the wonderfully clear water. Thousands of poles support half-acres of the spruce-bough shelf, beneath which is a dark, cool region, crossed with footpaths, and not unfrequently sprinkled and washed by the surf, — a most kindly office on the part of 42 FLAKES AND FISU-UOUSES. tbo sea, you will allow, when once you havo scented the fish-offal perpet lally dropping from the evergreen fish- house above. These little buildings on the flakes are conspicuous features, and look as fresh and wild as if they had just wandered away from the woodlands. There they stand, on the edge of the lofty pole-shelf, or upoi the extreme end of that part of it which runs off frequently over the water like a wharf, an assemblage of huts and halls, bowers and arbors, a curious huddle made of poles and sweet-smelling branches and sheets of birch- bark. A kind o^ 'evening haunts these rooms of spruce, at noonday, while at night a hanging lamp, like those we see in old pictures of crypts and dungeons, is to the stranger only a kind of buoy by which he is to steer his way through the darkness. To come off then without pitching headlong, and soiling your hands and coat, is the merest chance. Strange 1 one is continually allured into these piscatory bowers whenever he comes near them. In spite of the chilly, salt air, and the repulsive smells about the tables where they dress the fish, I have a fancy for these queer structures. Their front door opens upon the sea, and their steps are a mammoth ladder, leading down to the swells and the boats. There is a charm also about fine fishes, fresh from the net and the hook, — the salmon, for example, whose pink and yellow flesh has A FISHINQ BARQK. 48 given a namo to one of the most delicate hues of Art or Nature. But where was the iceberg ? ',Vo were not a littlo disappointed when all Torbay was before us, and nothhig but dark water to bo seen. To our surprise, no one had ever scon or heard of it. It must lie off Flat Rock Harbor, a little bay below, to the north. We agreed with the supposition that the berg must lie below, and made speedy preparations to pursue, by securing the only boat to bo had in the village, — a substantial fishing- barge, laden rather heavily in the stern with at least a cord of cod-seine, but manned by six stalwart men, a mo- tive power, as it turned out, none too large for the occa- sion. We embarked at the foot of a fish-house ladder, being carefully handed down by the kind-hearted men, and took our seats forward on the little bow-deck. All ready, they pulled away at their long, ponderous oars, with the skill and deliberation of life-long practice, and we moved out upon the broad, glassy swells of the bay towards the open sea, not indeed with the rapidity of a Yankee club-boat, but with a most agreeable steadiness, and a speed happily fitted for a review of the shores, which, under the afternoon sun, were made brilliant with lights and shadows. We were presently met by a breeze, which increased 44 THE CLIFFti. tho swell, and made it easier to fall in close under the northern shore, a lino of stupendous precipices, to wliich tho ocean goes deep home. Tho ride heneath theso mighty cliffs was by far tho finest boat-ride of my life. While they do not equal the rocks of tho Saguenay, yet, with all their appendages of extent, structure, complex- ion and adjacent sea, they are suflficiently lofty to pro- duce an almost appalling sense of sublimity. The surges lave them at a great height, sliding from angle to angle, and fretting into foam as they slip obliquely along the face of the vast walls. They descend as deeply as two hundred feet, and rise perpendicularly two, three, and four hundred feet from the water. Their stratifications are up and down, and of different shades of light and dark, a ribbed and striped appearance that increases tho the effect of height, and gives variety and spirit to the surface. At one point, where the rocks advance from tho main front, and form a kind of headland, the strata, six and eight feet thick, assume the form of a pyramid, from a broad base of a hundred yards or more running up to meet in a point. The heart of this vast cone has partly fallen out, and left the resemblance of an enormous tent with cavernous recesses and halls, in which the shades of evening were already lurking, and the surf was sounding THE CLIFFS. 45 mournfully. Occasionally i was musical, pealing forth like the low tones of a great organ with awful solemnity. Now and then, tho gloomy silence of a minute was broken by the crash of a billow far within, when tho re- verberations were like the slamming of great doors. After passing this giand specimen of the architecture of the sea, there appeared long rocky reaches, like Egyp- tian temples, old dead cliffs of yellowish gray, checked off by lines and seams into squares, and having the re- semblance, where they havo fallen out into tho ocean, of doors and windows opening in upon tho fresher stone. Presently we came to a break, where there were grassy slopes and crags intermingled, and a flock of goats skip- ping about, or ruminating in tho warm sunshine. A knot of kids — the reckless little creatures ! — were sport- ing along tho edge pf the precipice in a manner almost painful to witness. The pleasure of leaping from point to point, where a single mis-step would havo dropped them hundreds of feet, seemed to be in proportion to the danger. The sight of some women, who were after tlie goats, reminded the boatmen of an accident which oc- curred hero only a few days hefore : a lad playing about the steep, fell into the sea, and was drowned. We were now close upon the point just behind which we expected to behold tho iceberg. The surf was sweep- 46 RETREAT TO FLAT ROCK HARBOR. ing the black reef, that flanked the small cape, in the finest style, — a beautiful dance of breakers of dazzling white and green. As every stroke of the oars shot us forward, and enlarged our view of the field in which the ice was reposing, our hearts fairly throbbed with an ex- citement of expectation. " There it is ! " one exclaimed. An instant revealed the mistake. It was only the next headland in a fog, which unwelcome mist was now coming down upon us from the broad waters, and covering the very tract where the berg was expected to be seen. Fur- ther and further out the long, strong sweep of the great oars carried us, until the depth of the bay between us and the next headland was in full view. It may appear almost too trifling a matter over which to have had any feeling worth mentioning or remembering, but I shall not soon forget the disappointment, when from the deck of our barge, as it rose and sank on the large swells, we stood up and looked around, and saw that if the ice- berg, over which our very hearts had been beating with delight for twenty-four hours, was anywhere, it was some- where in the depths of that untoward fog. It might as well have been in the depths of the ocean. \ While the pale cloud slept there, there was nothing left for us but to wait patiently where wo were, or retreat. We chose the latter. C gave the word to pull for the RETREAT TO FLAT ROCK HARBOR. 47 Bettlement, at the head of the little bay just mentioned, and SO they rounded the breakers on the reef, and we turned away for the second time, when the game, as we bad thought, was fairly ours. Even the hardy fishermen, no lovers of " islands-of-ice," as they call the bergs, felt for us, as they read in our looks the disappointment, not to say a httle vexation. While on our passage in, wo filled a half-hour with questions and discussions about that iceberg. " We certainly saw it yesterday evening ; and a sol- dier of Signal Hill told us that it had been close in at Torbay for several days. And you, my man there, say that you had a glimpse of it last evening. How hap- pens it to be away just now ? Where do you think it is ? " "Indeed, sir, he must be out in the fog, a mile or over. De'il a bit can a man look after a thing in a fog more nor into a snow-bank. Maybe, sir, he's foundered ; or he might be gone off to ^ea altogether, as they some- times does." "Well, this is rather remarkable. Huge as these bergs are, they ( s'.ape very easily under their old cover. No sooner do ^ve think we have them, than they are gone. No jackal was ever more faithful to his lion, no pilot-fish to his shark, than the fog to its berf>'. We will run in 48 WILLIAM WATERMAN. yonder and inq[uire about it. We may get the exact bearing, and reach it yet, even in the fog." The wind and sea being in our favor, we soon reached a fishery- ladder, which we now knew very well how to climb, and wound our " dim and perilous way " through the evergreen labyrinth of fish-bowers, emerging on the solid rock, and taking the path to the fisherman's house. Here lives and works and wears himself out, William Waterman, a deep-voiced, broad-chested, round-shoul- dered wight, dressed, not in cloth of gold, but of oil, with the foxy remnant of a last winter's fur cap clinging to his large, bony head, a little in the style of a piece of turf to a stone. You seldom look inta a more kindly, patient face, or into an eye that more directly lets up the light out of a large, warm heart. His countenance is one sober shadow of honest brown, occasionally lighted by a true and guileless smile. William Waterman has seen the " island-of-ice." "It lies off there, two miles or more, grounded on a bank, in forty fathoms water." It was nearly six o'clock ; and yet, as there were signs of the fog clearing away, we thought it prudent to wait. A dull, long hour passed by, and still the sun was high in th6 north-west. That heavy cod- seine, a hundred fathoms long, sank the stern of our barge rather deeply, .ind made it row heavily. For all that, there was time THE FISHERMAN. '±9 enough yet, if we could only use it. The fog still came in masses from the sea, sweeping across the promontory between us and Torbay, and fading into air nearly as soon as it was over the land. In the mean time, we sat upon the rocks — upon the wood-pile — stood around and talked — ^looked out into the endless mist — looked at the fisher- men's houses — their children — their fowls and dogs. A couple of young women, that might have been teachers of the village school, had there been a school, belles of the place, rather neatly dressed, and with hair nicely combed, tripped shyly by, each with an arm about the other's waist, and very- merry until abreast of us, when they were as silent and downcast as if they had been passing by their sovereign queen, or the Great Mogul. Their curiosity and timidity combined were quite amus- ing. We speculated upon the astonishment that would have seized upon their simple, innocent hearts, had they beheld, instead of us, a bevy of our city fashionables in full bloom. At length we accepted an invitation to walk into the house, and sat, not under the good-man's roof, but under his chimney, a species of large funnel, into which nearly one end of the house resolved itself. Hero wo sat upon some box-like benches before a wood fire, and warmed ourselves, chatting with the family. While wc wore 3 I 50 THE FISHERMAN. making ourselves comfortable and agreeable, we made the novel, and rather funny discovery of a hen sitting on her nest just under the bench, with her red comb at our fingers' ends. A large griddle hung suspended in the more smoky regions of the chimney, ready to be lowered for the baking of cakes or frying fish. Having tarred my hand, the fisherman's wife, kind woman, insisted upon washing it herself. After rubbing it with a little grease, she first scratched it with her finger-nail, and then fin- ished with soap and water and a good wiping with a a coarse towel. I begged that she would spare herself the trouble, and allow me to heljf myself But it was no trouble at all for her, and the greatest pleasure. And what should I know about washing off tar ? They were members of the Church of England, and seemed pleased when they found that I was a clergyman of the Episcopal Church. They had a pastor, who visited them and others in the village occasionally, and held divine service on Sunday at Torbay, where they attended, going in boats in summer, and over the hills on snow- shoes in the winter. The woman told me, in an under- tone, that the family relations were not all agreed in their religious faith, and that they could not stop there any longer, but had gone to "America," which they liked much better. It was a hard country, any way, no mat- THE FISHERMAN. 51 ter whether one were Protestant or Papist. Three months were all their summer, and nearly all their time for getting ready for the long, cold winter. To he sure, they had codfish and potatoes, flour and butter, tea and sugar ; but then it took a deal of hard work to make ends meet. The winter was not as cold as wo thought, perhaps ; but then it was so long nnd snowy ! The snow lay five, si:', and seven feet deep. Wood was a great trouble. There was a plenty of it, but they could not keep cattle or horses to draw it home. Dogs were their only teams, and they could fetch but small loads at a time. In the mean while, a chubby little boy, with checks like a red apple, had ventured from behind his young mother, where ho had kept dodging as she moved about the house, and edged himself up near enough to be patted on the head, and rewarded for his little liberties with a half-dime. CIIArTER XII. TIIK WIIALE8.-TirK IOKnKU(}.-THE KKTUUN, AND THE HIDE TO St. JOHNS i.v aTAULIUlIT. The Runshino wns now streaming in at a bit of a win- dow, and I went out to sco what prospect of buccosb. C , who liad loft some littlo tunc before, was nowhero to be seen, Tlio fog seemed to be in sufficient motion to disclose the berg down some of the avenues of clear air that were opened occasionally. They all ended, however, with fog instead of ice. I made it convenient to walk to tho bo«it, and pocket a few cakes, brought along as a kind of scattering lunch. C was descried, at length, cUmbing the broad, rocky ridgo tho eastern point of which we had doubled on our passage from Torbay. Making haste up tho crags b} a short cut, I joined him on tho verge of tho ]>romontory, pretty well heated and out of breath. Tho effort was richly rewarded. Tl»o mist was dis- THE WHALES. 53 porsing in the sunny air around us j tho ocean was clear- ing off ; tho surge was breaking with a jjleasant sound below. At tho foot of the precipice were four or five whales, from thirty to fifty feet in length, apparently. We could have tossed a pebble upon them. At times abreast, and then in single file, round and round they went, now rising with a puff followed by a wisp of vapor, then plunging into tho deep again. There was something in their large movements very imposing, and yet very graceless. There seemed to be no muscular effort, no exertion of any force from within, and no more flexibility in their motions than if they had been built of timber. They appeared to move very much as a wooden whale might be supposed to move down a mighty rapid, rolling and plunging and borne along irresistibly by the current. As they rose, we could see their mouths occasionally, and tho lighter colors of the skin below. As they went un- der, their huge, black tails, great winged things not un- like the screw-wheel of a propeller, tipped up above tho waves. Now and then ono would give tho water a good round slap, the noiso of which smote sharply upon tho ear, like the crack of a pistol in an alley. It was a novel sight to watch them in their play, or labor rather ; for they were feeding upon the capelin, pretty little fishes that swarm along these shores at this particular season. 54 THE ICEUEliU. Wo could track them bonctith tlid surface about as well as upon it. In tho sunshine, and in contrast with tlio fog, tho sea was a very dark blue or deep purple. Above tho whales tho water was gr^en, a darker green as they descended, a lighter x- < fa thoy came up. Largo oval spots of changeable g »«,ter, moving silently and shadow-liko along, in strong cuixt ast with tho surround- ing dark, marked tho places where the monsters wero gliding below. When their broad, blackish backs were above the waves, there was frequently a ring or ruffle of snowy surf, formed by the breaking of tho swell, around the edges of the fish. Tho review of whales, tho only re- view wo had witnessed in Her Majesty's dominions, was, on the whole, an imposing spectacle. Wo turned from it to witness another, of a more brilliant character. To the north and east, tho ocean, dark and sparkling, was, by the magic action of the wind, entirely clear of fog ; and there, about two miles distant, stood revealed tho iceberg in all its cold and solitary glory. It was of a greenish white, and of tho Greek-temple form, seeming to be over a hundred feet high. We gazed some minutes with silent delight on tho splendid and impressive object, and then hastened down, to the boat, and pulled away with all speed to reach it, if possible, before the fog should cover it again, and in time for C to paint it. The THE ICEBEBO. 55 moderation of the oarsmen and tho slowness of our progress wcro quite provoking. I watclied the sun, tho distant fog, tho wind and waves, tho increasing motion of tho boat, and tho seemingly retreating herg, A good hall- hour's toil liad carried us into broad waters, and yet, to all appearance, very little nearer. The wind was freshen- ing from tho south, tho sea was rising, thin mists — a species of scout from the main body of fog lying olF in 1 .0 east— were scudding across our track. James Goss, >ur captain, threw out a hint of a little difficulty in getting back. But Yankee energy was indomitable : C quiet- ly arranged his painting-apparatus ; and I, wrapped in my cloak more snugly, crept out forward on tho little deck, — a sort of look-out. To bo honest, I began to wish ourselves on our way back, as tho black, angry-looking swells chased us up, and flung tho foam upon tho bow and stern. All at once, huge squadrons of fog swept in, and swamped the whole of us, boat and berg, in their thin, white obscurity. For a moment we thought ourselves foiled again. But still tlic word was On ! And on tliey pulled, the hard-handed fishermen, now flushed and moist with rowing. Again the ice was visible, but dimly, in his misty drapery. There was no time to be lost. Now, or not at all. And so C began. For half an hour, pausing occasionally for passing flocks of fog, he 56 THE lOEDEBO. I)licd tho brush with a rapidity not usual, and under disad- vantages that would have mastered a less experienced hand. We were getting close down upon tho herg, and in fearfully rough water. In their curiosity to catch glimpses of tho advancing sketch, tho men pulled with little regularity, and trimmed tho boat very badly. Wo were rolling frightfully to a landsman. C begged of them to keep their seats, and hold tho barge just there as near as possible. To amuse them, I passed an opera- glass around among them, with which they examined tho iceberg and tho coast. They turned out to be excellent good fellows, and entered into the spirit of tho thing in a way that pleased us. I am sure they would have held on willingly till dark, if C had only said the word, so much interest did they feel in the attempt to paint tho " island-of-ice." The hope was to linger about it until sunset, for its colors, lights and shadows. That, however, was suddenly extinguished. Heavy fog camo on, and we retreated, not with the satisfaction of a con- quest, nor with the disappointment of a defeat, but cheered with the hope of complete success, perhaps tho next day, when C thought that we could return upon our game in a little steamer, and so secure it beyond the possibility of escape. The seine was now hauled from the stern to tho cen- THE IlETURN. 07 tro of tho bargo ; and the men pulled away for Torbay, a ls/1.1^ six miles, rough and chilly. For my part, I was trembling with cold, and found it necessary to lend a hand at tho oars, an exercise which soon mado tho weather feel several degrees warmer, and rendered mo quite comfortable. After a little, the wind lulled, tho fog dispersed again, and the iceberg seemed to contem- plate our slow departure with complacent serenity. Wo regretted that tho hour forbade a return. It would have been pleasant to play around that Parthenon of the sea in the twilight. The best that was left us, was to look back and watch the effects of light, which were wonder- fully fine, and had the charm of entire novelty. Tho last view was the very finest. All the east front was a most tender blue ; the fissures on the southern face, from which we were rowing directly away, were glittering green ; the western front glowed in the yellow sunlight ; around were the dark waters, and above, one of tho most beautiful of skies. We fell under the land presently, and passed near tho northern cape of Flat-Kock Bay, a grand headland of red sandstone, a vast and dome-like pile, fleeced at the sum- mit with green turf and shrubs of fir. The sun, at last, was really setting. There was tho old magnificence of tho king of day, — airy deeps of ineffable blue and pearl, 3* 58 TUE RETURN. Btaincd with scarlets and crimsons, and striped with living gold. A blaze of white light, deepening into the richest orange, crowned the distant ridge hehmd which the sun was vanishing. A vapory splendor, rose-color and purple, was dissolving in the atmosphere ; and every wave of the ocean, a dark violet, nearly black, was " a flash of golden fire." Bathed with this almost supernatu- ral glory, the headland, in itself richly complexioncd with red, brown and green, was at once a spectacle of singular grandeur and solemnity. I have no remembrance of more brilliant effects of light and color. The view filled us with emotions of delight. We shot from beneath the great cliff into Flat-Kock Bay, rounding, at length, the breakers and the cape into the smoother waters of Tor- bay. As the oars dipped regularly into the polished swells, reflecting the heavens and the wonderful shores, all lapsed into silence. In the gloom of evening the rocks assumed an unusual height and sublimity. Gliding quietly below them, we were saluted, every now and then, by the billows thundering in some adjacent cavern. The song of the sea in its old halls rung out in a style quite unearthly. The slamming of the mighty doors seemed far off in the chambers of the cliff, and the echoes trem- bled themselves away, muffled into stillness by the stupendous masses. THE RIDE TO ST. JOHNS DY STAULIOIIT. 59 Thus ended our first real liunting of an iceberg. When wo lauded, wo were thoroughly chilled. Our uum was waiting with his wagon, and so was a little supper in a house nea-r by, which wo enjoyed with an appetite that assumed several phases of keenness as we proceeded. There was a tower of cold roast beef, flaidced by bread and butter and bowls of hot tea. The whole was carried silently, without remark, at the point of knife and fork. We were a forlorn-hope of two, and fell to, winning the victory in the very breach. We drove back over the fine gravel road at a round trot, watching the last edge of day in the north-west and north, where it no sooner fades than it buds again to bloom into morning. Wo lived the new iceberg experience all over again, and planned for the morrow. The stars gradually came out of the cool, clear heavens, until they filled them with their sparkling multitudes. For every star wo seemed to have a lively and pleasurable thought, which came out and ran among our talk, a thread of light. When we looked at the hour, as we sat fresh and wakeful, warming at our Eng- lish inn, in St. Johns, it waL after midnight. CHAPTER XIII. BT. MAEY'S CHURCH.— THE EIDE TO PETTY IIAEBOE. Friday, June 24. Daylight, with the street noises, surprised me in the very midst of the sweetest slumbers. I had already lei*rned that the summer daybreak, in-these more northern latitudes, was far enough ahead of breakfast, and so I flattered myself back into one of those light and dreamy sleeps that last, or seem to last, for several long and pleasant hours. When the bell aroused me, the day appeared old and glittering enough for noon. But it was only in good time for us, a little worn with the ex- citement and toils of the day before, and in trim to enjoy a good solid breakfast. All thought of revisiting the ice- berg of Torbay was postponed, at least for the present, and the day given up to previous invitations. At eleven o'clock, I attended the consecration of St. Mary's, a fine new church on the South Side, as the street ST. MARY'S CHURCH. 61 on the opposite shore of the harbor is called. As I walked across the bridge, conducting to that side, the sacred edifice, together with other buildings in the neigh- borhood, adorned with numerous English flags, presented, in contrast with the craggy mountain above, a lively and picturesque appearance. I may mention, by the way, that St. Johns might well be denominated the city of flags. They are flying everywhere thick as butterflies and pop- pies in a Yankee garden. I was made acquainted with a number of clergymen, some of them Cambridge and Oxford men, and invited to take a part in the services. The sermon, preached by Archdeacon Lower, was remarkable for its plainness, sim- plicity and earnestness, a characteristic of all the sermons I have heard from the clergy of Bishop Field, himself a preacher of singular simplicity and earnestness. I could not avoid drawing the contrast bet^feen the simple, prac- tical character of this gosj)el preaching by accomplished scholars, and the florid, pompous style of many half- educated men in my own country. While the latter may, at times, stir a popular audience more sensibly with the fire that crackles among their brushwood of words, the former are infinitely superior as sound, healthy, evan- gelical teachers. On my return to the inn, I found C in his room, 62 THE RIDE TO PETTY HARBOR. busily painting a duplicate of the berg of Torbay. Soon after dinner we set off, in company with Mr. Shea, for Petty Harbor, a small fishing port, nine or ten miles to the south. The road — one of the finest I ever saw, an old- fashioned English gravel road, smooth and hard almost as iron, a very luxury for the wheels of a springless wagon — keeps up the bank of a small river, a good-sized trout stream, flowing from the inland valley into the harbor of St. Johns. Contrasted with the bold regions that front the ocean, these valleys are soft and fertile. We passed smooth meadows, and sloping plough-lands, and green pastures, and houses peeping out of pretty groves. One might have called it a Canadian or New Hampshire vale. At no great distance from the town, we crossed the stream over such a bridge as one would be glad to find more frequently upon the streams at home, and gradually ascended to a shrubby, sterile country, with broad views inland. From the long, low hilJs of the western horizon, at no great distance, Mr. Shea, informed us that there were prospects of Trinity Bay, of great beauty. Our road, at length, carried us up among the bleak coast hills, winding among them in a most agreeable manner, and bringing to view numbers of small lakes, liquid gems set in black and craggy banks, and which are all to be united by cuttings THE RIDE TO PETTY HAKBOK. 63 through the rocks, and then conducted to St. Johns, thus forming one of the completest reservoirs. The flowers by the wayside, mostly small and pale, touched the air with delicate perf>ime. I looked for the bees, but there were none abroad ; neither was there to be heard the hum of insects nor warbling of birds. Now and then a lonely bird piped a feeble strain. We continued winding among the thinly- wooded hills, cur wheels ringing along the narrow gravel road for an h(3ur. At last we reached the height of land, and overlooked the ocean. Here we rested a few moments, rose from the seats, and looked around upon the majestic scene. Far out upon the blue were many sails, white in the bright sunshine as the wings of doves. The fishing boats, little schooners with raking masts, which swarm in these seas, were scud- ding under their tan-colored canvas, in all directions, looking like so many winged flies far down upon the spangled plain, a most lively and agreeable contrast to the desolate highlands, where you behold no dwelling, or field, or sign of human work, except the road, which, I cannot help repeating, lies among the rough hills, and rocky masses, as cleanly cut, and smooth as a road in a gentleman's park. What a token of greatness and refine- ment is the perfect road ! No nation makes such roads as these, in a land bristling with rugged difliculties, that 64 THE RIDE TO PETTY HARBOB. has not wound its way up to the summit of power and cultivation. The savage contents himself with a path that is engineered and beaten by the wild beast. The praise which an American, used to the rOugh roads of home, is continually disposed to lavish upon these admirable English roads of rugged Newfoundland, must by no manner of means be shared by the carriages that travel them, things at least one hundred years be- hind the time. Such vehicles, on such roads, fit about as well as a horseman on one of our city avenues dressed in the iron clothes of a crusader. No Yankee rides in them who does not have his laugh at their absurd strength and clumsiness. They are evidently intended to descend from father to son ; and they are just as certain to do it as they are to descend the hill 5, from which no common horse and harness can prcvjnt theou v;hen tolerably loaded. If the intelligence which designs, and executes, and orders these wagons about, was not British intelli- gence, one would not have a word to say. As it is, a little ridicule is at least an innocent pastime. Take ojBf the box, the pleasure-box, and ])ut upon the stalwart machine ar>y thing you choose, stonos, saw-logs, fire-engine, can- non, and all will go safely. When you return, put on your pleasure-box again, and you are ready for an airing, wife and dongbtcrs. i !^ PWf° CHAPTER XIV. PETTY HAEBOE.— THE MOUNTAIN KIVEE.-COD-LIVER OIL.— TUE EVENING EIDE BACK TO ST. JOUNS. To venture a geological remark : All these coast liiglilandT correspond with the summits of the Alleghaiiies, and with those regions of the Cordilleras, C tells me, which are just below the snow-line. From the sea-line up to the peak, they correspond with our mountains above the upper belt of woods. Their icy pinnacles and eternal snows are floating below in the form of iceber'^s. Imagine all the mid-mountain region in the deep, and you have the Andes here. • We descended in a zigzag way into a deep gor; g, one of those cuts through the shore mountains from inland regions to the sea, which occasionally become fiords or narrow bays. Along the rocky steps, resembling galle- ries, were patches of grass and beds of flowering mo 'is, 66 THE MOUNTAIN RIVER. with springs bubbling up in the spongy turf, and spin- ning themselves out into snowy threads from the points and edges of the crags. At the bottom is the little vil- lage of Petty Harbor, where the river, a roaring torrent, meets the salt tide. We alighted at a cottage. Swiss- like among the rocks, before we were quite down, and were pleased to hear Mr. Shea, whose guests we were, making arrangements with a nice-looking woman for an abundant supper, on our return. Mr. S., in company with several persons who now joined us from St. Johns, then proceeded to show us the lions of the place, or lion rather, for every thing and everybody are run up into, and knit into one body^ the fishery. In the first place, wc were struck with the general appearance of things. The fishing flakes completely floor the river, and ascend In terraces for a short distance up the sides of the vale. Beneath these wide, evergreen floors, upon which 'vas fish in all states, fresh from the knife, and dry inoiigh for packing, ran the river, a brawl- ing stream vJj io'v tido, and deeper, silent water when the tide was in. Vve could 1; ok up the dark stream, and see it dancing in the raoantaiu sunshine, and down through the dim forest, cf slend(^r props, and catch glances of the glit- tering s(?;i- Boats were gliding up out of the daylight into the half-darkness, slowly sculled by brown fishermen, THE MOUNTAIN BIVEB. 67 and freighted with the browner cod, laced occasionally with a salmon. In this wide and noiseless shade, these cool, Lethean realms, sitting upon some well-washed boulder, one might easily forget the heat and uproar of all cities, and become absorbed in the contemplation of merely r^resent and momentary things. If one doubts it, let him immerse himself for half an hour, in those still and gloomy shadows, strongly seasoned with " ancient and fish-like smells." Should he be able to reflect upon the absent, or engage his thoughts upon any thing except that which most immediately affects his senses, he will possess a power of abstraction which a philosopher and a Brahmin might envy. In the course of our walk we visited a cod-liver oil manufactory. The process of making this article is quite simple. The livers, fresh from the fish, and nearly white, are cleanly washed, and thrown into a cauldron heated by steam instead of fire, where they gradually dissolve into oil, which is dipped out hot and strained, first through conical felt bags, and then through those made of white moleskin, from which it runs pure and sweet as table^oil. Wine-glasses were at hand, from which we tasted it, and found it entirely agreeable. In this state it is barrelled for market, and sold at an aver- age price of one dollar and fifty cents per gallon. By 68 COD-LIVER OIL. what process it is transmuted into that horrid stuff which is sold at a high price, in small bottles, perhaps the drug- gist can inform us. When I mentioned the character of owl-liver oil in New York, a gentleman present, qualified to dr<*'do, did not hesitate to say that it was adulterated with some cheap, base oil. Near by a fish-house, there is ordinarily seen a row of hogsheads open to the sun, and breathing smells that none but a fisherman can abide. A near approach discovers these casks to bo filled with cod livers in a state of fermentation. After a few days in the sun, these corpulent and sweaty vessels yield a rancid, nauseous fluid, of a nut-brown hue, at a much less cost than the refined oil of the manufactory, and which, I imagine, must have a flavor not unlike that which the invalid finds lurking in those genteel flasks on the apothecary's shelves. After all, our common whale- oil, I suspect, after some cleansing and bleaching, and slight seasoning with the pure, is bad enough for sick people. The catch, as the fisher terms the number of fish taken, was small that day, and wo encountered, here and there, knots of idle men, smoking, chewing, whittling and talking. For the most part, they were a russet, tan- gle-haired and shaggy-bearded set, shy and grum at first, but presently talkative enough, and intelligent upon all THE EVENINQ HIDE BACK TO BT. JOHNS. C9 matters in their own little world. Fish were so glutted with capelin that they would not bite well. The seines did better. Among tho dwellings that wo passed or en- tered, was one of a young English woman, of such exceed- ing neatness, that tho painter could not forget it. That fine-looking, healthy, young English woman, with her bit of a house just as neat as wax, was often spoken of. Upon our return to the cottage on the hill-side, where wo at first alighted, wo sat down, with sharp appetite, to a supper of fried capelin and cods' tongues, garnished with cups of excellent tea. We ate and drank with tho relish of travellers, and talked of the continent from Greenland to Cape Horn. After supper, wg climbed out of the valley, in advance of tho wagons and our company, to an eminence from which C sketched the surround- ing scenery, more for tho sake of comparison with some of his Andean pencillings than for any thing really new. Ho remarked that the wild and rocky prospect bore a strong resemblance to the high regions of the Cordilleras. While he was engaged with tho pencil, I scrambled to a high place, and looked at the Atlantic, touched with long shafts of the light and shade of sunset. All arrived at length, and we were fairly on our way back to St. Johns. I buttoned my coat tightly, and wound my cloak around mo with a pleasing sense of comfort in the 70 THE EVENING RIDE BACK TO ST. JOHNS. clear and almost wintry air. All talked somewhat loudly, and in the best possible good humor, our three wagons keeping close company, and making a pleasant sound of wheels, as wo ran down our serpentine way among the hills and lakes, now darkening in the dusk, and reflecting the colored skies. Although there was not a water-fowl in sight, the words came to memory spontaneously, and I recited them to myself: " Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue Thy solitary way?" As wo approached the town, we were much amused with some boyish sports of a new kind. We saw what appeared through the darkness to be balls of fire, chasing each other down the craggy hill-fide, but which turned out to bo a company of frolicsome boys with lighted torches, bounding down the zigzag mountain road. CnAPTER XV. THE CnUECn SniP.-THE HERO OP KABS.-TUE MISSION ABY OF LABBADOB. Saturday, June 25. This has been a quiet day, mostly spent in making calls and social visits. At an early hour, in company with Mr. Newman, the consul, we visited the Church Ship, a pretty vessel of not more than sixty tons, called the Hawk, a name suggested by that lino in the Odyssey, whore the poet says, " the aus- picious bird flew under the guidance of God." By an ingenious arrangement, the cabin, wliich is a large part of the vessel, can be changed, in a few minutes, from state- rooms into a saloon, which, again, by a slight alteration, becomes a chapel. In this, at once home and church, the Bishop visits not only the harbors and islands of New- foundland and Labrador, but the island of Bermuda. It was the gift of the Rev. Robert Eden, a clergyman of IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) m7^ 1.0 I.I 1 50 '"^™ 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 i 1.25 U |i.6 < 6" ► m A / o c^] 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 \ V 4 '^ O % V 0^ 72 THE HERO OF EABS. England^ some twelve years ago, and has been empbyed in that benevolent and sacred service ever since, with the promise of the same for years to come. There are now more than forty settled clergymen and missionaries along those cold and rugged shores, who are visited from time to time by their Bishop in this bold little ship, which I shall dismiss for the present, for the reason that there will be occasion to speak of it again. From the Bishop's ship we went to his house, where we had the honor of an introduction to General Williams, the hero of Kars, and to Colonel Law, one of the few now living who distinguished themr«elves at the battle of Waterloo. In the presence of one who had mingled in the grand scenes of Napoleon and the Duke of Welling- ton, emotions of admiration were spontaneous. The hero of Kars stands foremost among what are called fine- looking military men, — ^a tall, commanding person, with a most pleasing address. We closed the day with the consul, who invited to join us the Bev. George Hutchinson, a nephew of the poet Wordsworth, and accustomed, in his youthful days, to see at his uncle's such literary worthies as Lamb and Southey. He talked much of Hartley Coleridge, of whose abilities he had a high opinion. Southey, of all, seemed to bo his admiration. Ho wrr, all in all, indeed a won- THE MISSIONARY OF LABRADOR. 73 derful man; a perfecfc Hercules in literary labors. A few years ago, Mr. Hutchinson, moved by a religious spirit, was induced to give up a pleasant living in Dorsetshire, under the Malvern Hills, and devote himself to the toils and privations of a missionary in Labrador. Upon the death of his mother he went home, over a year ago, and became possessed of a small property. He has returned recently, and is now waiting for an opportunity to get back to Labrador. This meeting and conversation with the Eev. George Hutchinson, has turned out to be of more than ordinary interest. C has determined to hire a vessel for a month, and set the missionary down in the midst of his people, without further trouble. "We retired, pleasantly excited with visions of icebergs and northern coast sceneiy, and with thoughts of preparation for the voyage. CHAPTER XVI. SUNDAY EVENING AT THE BISHOP'S.— THE EEV. ME. WOOD'S TALK ABOUT ICEBEEGS. Monday, Jum, 27. We attended church, yesterday, at the cathedral, where we heard practical sermons and fine congregational singing. The evening was passed at the Bishop's, when the conversation was about Ox- ford, and Keble, English parsonages, and Christian art. A few poems were read from Keble's Christian Year, and commented upon by the Bishop, who is a personal friend and admirer of the poet. Before the company separated, all moved into a very beautiful private chapel, and closed the evening with devotions. ^ This has been a bright day, and favorable for our preparations. We took tea with the Consul, and had the pleasure of meeting the Rev. Mr. Wood, the Rector of St. Thomas'/ one of the city churches ; who has true THE BEV. MB. WOOD'S TALK ABOUT lOEBEBOS. 75 >.H feeling, and a thorough appreciation of fine scenery, and whose descriptive ahilities are rare. He says that an ice- berg is to him the most impressive of all objects. Most beautiful in its life and changes, it ip, next to an earth- quake, most terrible and appalling, in the moment of its destruction, to those who may happen to be near it. Upon the falling of its peaks and precipices, waves and thunders carry the intelligence across the waters. Lofty as it frequently is, the head only, helmeted and. plumed with dazzling beauty, is above the sea. In its solemn march along the blue main, how it steps upon the high places of the deep, is all unseen. Around its mighty form, far down its alabasfcer cMs and caverns, no eye plays but that of the imagination. When it pauses in its last repose, and perishes, at times, as quickly as if it were smitten by the lightning, you may stand in the distance and gaze with awe, but never draw near to witness the motions and sounds of its dissolution. After tea, we sat by the windows, which face the east and command the harbor, with its grand entrance from the Atlantic, and enjoyed the scene, one of unusual splendor, every cliff glowing with hues of reddish orange. CHAPTER XVII. OUE VESSEL FOB LABEADOE.— WRECK OP TlliJ AEGO-THE FISHEE- MAN'S FUNERAL. » Wedttesday, June 29. We are far advanced in our preparations for the voyage. Yesterday and to-day, we have been busily engaged, and now see the way clear for leaving to-morrow morning. Bishop Field, who, with many others, is pleased that C— — has volunteered to take Mr. Hutchinson and Mr. Botwood, his associate, to Lab- rador, sailed on the visitation of his extended diocese to- day. The Church Ship, which we visited in the morning, looked, in her perfect order and neatness, with her signal guns and her colors flying, quite like a little man-of-war. We shall follow for awhile in her track, but with no ex- pectation of seeing her again. ^ Allow me now to take you to the wharf, and show you the craft which C lias selected for his novel, and OUB VESSEL FOB LABBADOB. 77 somewhat perilous expedition. Here she lies, the Integ- rity, of Sydney, Cape Breton, a pink-stemed schooner, of only sixty-five tons, but reputtd safe and a good sailer. Her forecastle contains the skipper and mate, a young man of twenty-two, the owner of the vessel, and three men, the youngest an overgrown Scotch lad, who has been serving, and will continue to serve us, in the capacity of cook. Her cabin is for Captain Knight, the commander, pro tem., with whom you will be made much better ac- quainted. Just forward of the cabin, in the hold, there has been a temporary cabin partitioned off, and furnished with beds, bedding, chairs and table ; in short, with every necessary article for the comfort and convenience of five individuals. In this snug little room, and in the hold, laden only with a light stone baUast, are stores and pro- visions, of the very best quality, for two fuU months, wood and water to be taken along shore as need shall re- quire. At ^'s sole expense, and under his control, this vessel is to cruise for a few weeks in the region of the ice- bergs, setting down the missionaries by the way. The sheet anchor and mainstay (I begin to speak thd language of the mariner) of our hopes of a pleasant and successful trip, humanly speaking, is Captain Knight, a respected citizen of St. Johns, and an accomplished sailor, whom 78 WRECK OF THE ABQO. im C has had the good fortune to secure as master, pilot, and companion. We have been startled by the intelligence, that the Argo, of the Galway line of steamers, from New York to Scotland, is ashore at St. Shotts, near Cape Bace. As usual, a variety of reports have agitated the community, and made people look with eagerness for the return of the two small harbor steamers, which Mr. Shea, the agent for that line, dispatched yesterday to the scene of distress. One of the tugs, the Blue Jacket, has at length arrived with a part of the passengers in sad plight. It is the old story of shipwreck on these rocky coasts. Wrapped in fogs, and borne forward by a powerful current, the ill-fated ship struck the shore, a few moments after it was discov- ered. Providentially, it was calm weather, and the sea unusually quiet, or all had peiished. As it was, all went safely to land, and encamped in the woods. Numbers of the passengers, saddened by the lops of trunks containing clothing and other valuables, excited and fatigued, tell bitter storiep of carelessness and inefiSciency. While, with a crowd of people, we were at the pier, awaiting the ^arrival of the Blue Jacket, a funeral pro- cession of boats with little white flags, hah pole, came slowly rowing in from sea, and across the harbor, and landed with the coffin near where we were standing. Not i THE fisherman's FUNERAL. 79 only the relatives were dressed in mourning, but the bearers. There were long flowing weeds of black crape upon all their hats, and wide white cambric cuffs upon the sleeves of their coats. They were of the fishing class, from some village up or down the coast, and conducted matters apparently with more dispatch than mournful- ness. A hearse or black carriage, of very substantial make, with a high top, and white fringe or valance de- pending from its eaves instead of curtains, was waiting on the wharf, attended by a m^n with a flag of white linen attached to his hat. Among our last calls to-day, was one of ceremony upon Sir Alexander and Lady Bannerman, from whom we had received an invitation to dine. Her ladyship, a fine-looking person, of graceful and dignified manners and pleasing conversation, talked with interest of C ^'s excursion, and particularly of that part of it relating to his carrying Mr. Hutchinson to Labrador. After taking our leave, we went with Mr. Newman to look after some fireworks, which his Excellency has been pleased to order for our amusement at night among the icebergs. CHAPTER XVIII. OUE FIEST EVENING AT SEA Thursday evening, June 30. At sea. I am now writing, for the first time to-day, by the candles on our table in the main cabin of the Integrity. We are sailing northward with a fair wind, but with fog and rather rough water. But let me go back, and take the day from the beginning, passing lightly over its labors and vexations. The morning opened I'pon us brilliantly, and all were employed about those many little things which only can be done at the last moment. Noon came and an early dinner, before that all were in readiness and aboard. And then, as if in retaliation for our delay during so many lovely hours, the wind was not ready, and so we were obliged to be towed by the Blue Jacket quite out into broad water, where she left us with our colors quivering OUB riBBT BVENINO AT 8BA. 81 in tho Bimshine, and all our canvas swolling in a mild southerly breeze. The coast scenery, and the iceberg of Torbay, and the last gleams of sunset upon land and ocean, were the lions of the afternoon. We have taken our first tea, counting, with a lad in the charge of Mr. Hutchinson, six around the table, and making, with the crew, eleven souls, quite a little congre- gation, could all be spared to attend the short morning and evening services. We are just beginning to feel tho effects of a small vessel with no lading beyond a light ballast. SL rolls excessively, rises with every swell, and pitches into the succeeding hollow. This has already be- gun to disperse our company to their berths, as the more comfortable place for the random conversation which will close the day. 4» CHAPTER XIX. ICEBEBOS OF TUE OPEN SEA.-THE OCEAN GUASE.— TUE BETBEAT TO CAT HAEBOB. ' Fbidat, July 1. The fog is bo dense that the rigging drips as if it rained. In fact, if it be not the finest of all rain, then it is the thickest of aU mists. and I are sea-sick, almost as a matter of course, and look upon all preparations for breakfast with no peculiar Batisfac- tion. Our consolation is, that we are sailing forward, although with only very moderate speed. Delightful change 1 It is clearing up. The noon- day sun is showering the dark ocean, here and there, with the whitest light. And lo ! an iceberg on our left. Lo I an iceberg on our right. An iceberg ahead I Tes, two of them I — ^four ! — ^five — six 1 — and there, a white pinnacle just pricking above the horizon. Wonderful to^ behold, there are no less than thirteen icebergs in fair THE OCEAN 0HA8E. P viow. We run forward, and then we run aft, and then to this Bide, and that. We lean towards thorn over the railing, and spring up into the shrouds, as if these boyish efforts brought us nearer, and made them plaiuer to our delighted eyes. With a quiet energy, C betakes him- self to painting, and I to my note-book. But can you tell me why I pause, almost put up the pencil, and pocket the book ? I am only a little sea-sick. The cold sweat starts upon the forehead, and I feel pale. Wo bear away now, such is the order, for the largest berg in sight. I freshen again with the growing excitement of this novel chase, and feel a pleasurable sense of freedom that I can never describe. I could bound like a deer, and shout like the wild Indian, for very joy. The vessel seems to sym- pathize, and spring forward with new spirit. The words leap out of the memory, and I give them a good strong voice : " O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free." Indeed, there is a hearty pleasure in this freedom of the ocean, when, as now with us, it is " all before you where to choose." Tied to no task, fettered to no line of voyage, to no scant time allowanced, the ship, the ocean and the day, are ours. Like the poet's river, that " windeth at its 84 THE OCEAN CHAUE. own sweet will/' our wishes flow down the meandering channel of circumstances, and we go with the current. And how lovely the prospect as we go I That this is all God's own world, which he holdeth in the hollow of his hand, is manifest from the impartial bestowal of beauty. No apple, peach or rose is more within one net- work of sweet, living grace, than the round world. How wonderful and precious a thing must this beauty be, that it is thus all-pervading, and universal ! Hero on these bleak and barren shores, so rocky, rough and savage, is a rich and delicate splendor that amazes. The pure azure of the skies, and the deeply bluo waters, one would think were suffici'int for rude and fruitless regions such as these. But look, how they shine and scintillate ! The iron cheeks of yonder headland blush with glory, and the west is all magnificent. Gaze below into the everlasting evening of the deep. Glassy, glittering things, like chan- deliers dispersed, twinkle in the fluid darkness. The very fishes, clad in purple and satin, silvery tissues and cloth-of-gold, seem to move with colored lights. God hath apparelled all his creatures, and we call it beauty. As we approach the bergs, they assume a great variety of forms. Indeed, their changes are quite wonderful. In passing around a single one, we see as good as ten, so protean is its character. I know of no object in all THE OCFAN CHABE. 8& SO ill nature so marvelously sensitive to a steady gaze. Sit motionless, and look at one, and, fixture as it appeats, it has its changes then. It marks with unerring faithful- ness every condition of atmosphere, and every amount of light and shadow. Thus manifold complexions trem- ble over it, for which the careless observer may see no reason, and many shapes, heights and distances swell and shrink it, move it to and from, of which the mind may not readily assign a cause. The large iceberg, for which we bore away this morn- ing, resembled, at one moment, a cluster of Chinese buildings, then a Gothic cathedral, early style. It was curious to see how all that mimicry of a grand religious pile was soon transmuted into something like the Coliseum, its vast interior now a delicate blue, and then a greenish white. It was only necessary to run on half a mile to find this icy theatre split asunder. An age of ruin ap- peared to have passed over it, leaving only the two ex- tremes, the inner cliffs of one a glistening white, of the other, a blue, soft and airy as the July heavens. In the neighborhood, were numbers of block-like berg- which, when thrown together by our perpetual change of position, resembled the ruins of a marble city. The play of the light and shadows among its inequalities was charming in the extreme. In the outskirts of this Pal- 86 THE BETBEAT TO CAT HABBOB. myra of the waves, lay a berg closely resembling a huge ship of war, with the stern submerged, over which the surf was breaking finely, while the stem, sixty or seventy feet aloft, with what the fancy easily shaped into a majes- tic figure-head, looked with fixed serenity over the dis- tant waters. As we ran athwart the bow, it changed in- stantly into the appearance of some gigantic sculpture, with broad surfaces as smooth as polished ivory, and with salient points cut with wonderful perfection. The dash- ing of the waves sounded like the dashing at the foot of rocky cliffs, indicative of the mass of ice. below the sur- face. As the afternoon advances the breeze strengthens, blowing sharply off to sea. We have the most brilliant sunshine, with a clear, cold, exhilarating air. It very nearly dispels all the nausea caused by this excessive rolling. We are now beating up from the east toward the land, and passing several of the bergs, in the chase of which we have spent so many joyous hours. Every few minutes we have new forms and new effects, new thoughts and fresh emotions. The grand ruins ef the Oriental deserts, hunted on the fleetest coursers, would awaken, I fancy, kindred feelings. Full of shadowy sub- limities are these great broken masses, as we sweep around them, fall away, tack and return again. . THE RETREAT TO CAT HARBOR. S7 I never could have felt, and so must not think of making others feel through the medium of language, the possibility of being so deceived in respect of the bulk of these islands-of-ice, as our sailors always call them. What seems, in the distance, a mere piece of ice, of good snow-bank size only, is really a mass of such dimensions as to require you to look up to it, as you sail around it, and feel, as you gaze, a sense of grandeur. What you might suppose could be run down as easily as a pile of light cotton, would wreck the proudest clipper as effectu- ally as the immovable adamant. Between the great northern current, and the breeze which plumes the innumerable waves with sparkling white, our course has become rather more tortuous and rough than is agreeable to landsmen who have only come abroad upon the deep for pleasure and instruction. The painter has cleaned his pallet, wiped his brushes, shut his painting-box, and gone below, I am sitting here, near the helm, close upon the deck, screened from the spray that occasionally flies over, heavily coated, and cold at that, making some almost illegible notes. Life, it is often said, is a stormy ocean. It is on the ocean, cer- tainly, that one feels the whole force of the comparison. The wind, which is blowing strongly, is getting into the north, dead ahead, and sweeping us away upon our 88 THE BETBEAT TO CAT HABBOB. back tmck. We are too lightly ballasted to tack with success, and hold our own. The bergs are retiring, and appear like ruins and broken columns. We are now fiiirly on the retreat, and flying under reefed sails to a little bay, called Cat Harbor. All aloft has the tightness and the ring of drums, and the whistling of a hundred fifes. The voice of the master is quick, and to the point, and the motions and the footsteps of the men, rapid. On our bows are the explosion and the shock of swells, the re- sounding knocks and calls of old Neptune, and upon the deck such showers of his most brilliant flowers and bouquets as I feel in no haste to gather. The sea-fowl whirl in the gale like loose plumes and papers, pouring out their wild complaints as they pass. CHAPTER XX. CAT HAEBOE.— EVENING BEEVIOE IN cnUECH.-THE FISIIEEMAN'B FIEE.— THE EETUEN AT MIDNIGHT. At eight o'clock, our brave little pink-stern was lying at anchor in her haven, as quietly as a babe in its cradle, with the wind piping a pleasant lullaby in the rigging, and the roar of the ocean nearly lost in the distance. A few rude erections along the rocky shore, with a small church, a store and warehouse, compose the town of Cat Harbor, the life of which seems to be the water-craft busy in the one common employment, some returning with the catch of the day, others going for the catch of the night. While C was painting a sketch of the scene, the sun vanished behind the purple inland hills, with unusual splendor, and left the distant icebergs in such a white " as no fuller on earth can white them." After dinner, notwithstanding the lateness of the ■^ 90 EVENING SERVICE IN CHURCH. hour, Mr. Hutcliiiison, who knew that the clergyman in charge was absent, resolved t*o go ashore, and invite the people to attend divine service. As soon as we were landed, he left us to make our way to the church, at our leisure, while he ran from house to house to announce himself, and to give notice of the intended services. Our path, as usual in these coast hamlets, went in zigzag, serpentine ways, among evergreen fishing-bowers, and many-legged flakes and huts, and oddly-fenced potato- patches. In the marshy field around the church, we had some time to amuse ourselves with gathering slender bul- rushes tipped with plumes of whitest down. They were sprinkled all abroad like snow-flakes over the dusky green ground, and we ran about with the eagerness of boys, selecting the prettiest as specimens for home. Twilight was already close upon the darkness. We turned from the chase of our thistle-down toys, and gazed upon the solemn magnificence around us — the dark and lonesome land — the bay, reflecting the colored heavens — the warm orange fading out into the cool pearl, and the pearl finally lost in the broad blue above. It was fully candle-light when the congregation, about forty, assembled, and the service began. The mis- sionary preached extempore a practical sermon adapted to his hearers, and we sang, to the tune of Old Hundred, THE fisherman's FIRE. 91 the One Hundredth Psalm, making the dimly-lighted sanctuary ring again. After church, our party were in- vited to warm at one of the houses, which we did most effectually before a broad and roaring fire, while mine host recounted the toil and the pleasure of getting winter wood over the deep snows with his team of dogs, and the more perilous and exciting labors of the fish-harvest, upon which life and all depend. 'At the mention of the puff'-pig, the local name for the common porpoise, we in- dulged ourselves in a childish laugh. A more ludicrous, and at the same time a more descriptive name could not be hit upon. During the half-hour around the exhilarating July fire, there dropped in, one by one, a room-full, curious to see and hear the strangers from St. Johns and America, as the United States are often called. We parted with a general shaking of hands, and plenty of good wishes, among which was one, " that we might have many igh hicebergs." Some half dozen attended us to the shore, and brought us off in handsome style over the calm and phosphorescent waters. At every dip of the oars it was like unraking the sparkling embers, so brilliant was that beautiful light of the sea. The boatmen called it the burn- ing of the water. " When the water burnt," they said, " it was a sure sign of south wind and a plenty of fish." 92 THE RETURN AT MIDNIGHT. It was one of those still and starry nights which re- quire only an incident or so to make them too beautiful ever to be forgotten. Those incidents were now present, in a peculiarly plaintive murmur of the ocean, the kin- dling waves, and a delicate play of the Aurora Borealis. When we reached our vessel it was almost midnight, and still there was sweet daylight in the far north-west, mov- ing along the circle of the northern horizon to brighten into morning before we were half through our light and dreamy slumbers. Weary and drowsy, all have crept to their berths ; and I will creep into mine when I have put the period to the notes of this long and delightful day. I hear the footfalls of the watch on deck. May God keep us through the shoi-t, but most solitary night, and speed us early on our northern voyage ! CHAPTEB XXI. AFTER ICEBERGS AGAIN. — AMONG THE SEA-FOWL. Saturday, July 2. It is five o'clock, and the morn- ing has kindled in the clouds its brightest fires. We are moving off to sea gracefully before a fair, light wind. The heart delights in this golden promise of a fine sum- mer day, and the blue Atlantic all before us. As the rising sun looks over it, the glittering waves seem to par- ticipate in these joyful emotions. How marvelously beautiful is this vast scene ! Give me the sea, I say, now that I am on the sea. Give me the mountains, I say, when I am on the mountains ! Henceforth, when I am weary with the task of life, I will cry. Give me the mountains and the sea. The rugged islands, landward, have only an olive, not the living green, and seem never to have rejoiced in the blessing of a tree, or felt the delicious mercy of a leafy 94 AMONG THE SEA-FOWL. shade. There blow the whales, and here is the edge of an innumerable multitude of scd-birds feeding upon the capelin, and flying t( right and left, thick as grass- hoppers, as we advance among them. Poor things, they are so glutted that they are obliged to disgorge before they can gain the wing, and many of them merely scram- ble aside a few yards, and become the mark of the roguish sailors, especially of Sandy, our young Scotch cook, who is in a perfect frolic, pelting them with stones. They sprinkle the sea by the million, and present, with their white breasts and perpetually arching wings, a lively and novel appearance. On the roll of the swells, as the sunlight glances on them, they flash out white like water-lilies. How the pages of a book fail to carry these scenes into the heart ! I have been reading of them for years, and, as I have thought, reading understandingly and feelingly ; but I can now say that I have never known, certainly never felt them until now. The living presence of them has an originality, a taste and odor for the imagination, which can never be expressed even by the vivid and sensuous language of the painter, much less by the more subtle, intellectual medium of written records. It is so new and fresh to me, that I feel as if none bad ever seen this prospect before. Old and familiar as these AMONG THE SEA-FOWL. 95 waters are, I am thrilled with emotions, kindred to those of a discoverer, and remember and repeat the rhyme of the Ancient Mariner : We were tho first that ever burst Into that silent sea. Silent sea ! This is any thing but that. Tho surf, which leaps up with the lightness and rapidity of flames, for many and many a white mile, roars among tho sharp, bleak crags of the islands and tho coast like mighty cataracts. Words of the Psalmist fall naturally upon tho tongue, and I speak them in low tones to myself : Voices are heard among them. Their sound is gone out into all lands. " And so sail we," this glorious morning, after tho ice- bergs, several of which stand sentinel along our eastern horizon ; but we do not turn aside for them, for the reason that we confidently look for others more closely on our proper track. CHAPTER XXII. NOTEE DAME BAT.— FOOO ISLAND AND THE TIIEEB UUNDBED ISLES.— THE FBEEDOM OF THE BEAS.-TIIE ICEBEBO OF THE SUNSET, AND THE FLIGHT INTO TWILLINOATB. After noon, with tho faintest breeze, and tho sea like a flowing mirror. Wo have sailed by the most eabt- ei 1 promontories, Cape Bonavista and Gape Freels, and have now arrived at a point where the coast falls off far to the west, and gives place to Notre Dame Bay, the great Archipelago of Newfoundland, of which there is comparatively little known. Our true course is nearly north, and along the eastern or Atlantic side of Fogo, which is now before us, the first and largest of some three hundred islands. For the sake of the romantic scenery, we conclude to take the inside route. From the shores of Fogo, which are broken, and ex- ceedingly picturesque further on, as Captain Knight in- forms us, the land rises into moderate hills, thinly wooded FOaO IHLAMU AND TU£ TUBEE IIUMDllED ISLKU. Il7 with ovcrgrecns, with horo and thoro a littlo farm and dwelling. Perhaps there are twenty rural smokes in sight and a 8i)ire or two. Under the full-blown summer all looks pleasant and inviting. What will not the glori- ous sunshine bless and beautify ? A dark and dusty garret wakes up to life and brightness, give it an open window and the morning sun. The western headlands of Fogo are exceedingly at- tractive, lofty, finely broken, of a red and purplish brown, tinted hero and there with pale green. The painter is busy with his colors. As we pass the bold prominences and deep, narrow bays or fiords, they are continually changing and surprising us with a new scenery. And now the great sea-wall, on our right, opens and discloses the harbor and village of Fogo, the chief place of the island, gleaming in the setting sun as if there were flames shining through the windows. Looking to the left, all the western region is one fine -^gean, a sea filled with a multitude of isles, of manifold forms and sizes, and of every height, from mountain pyramids and crested ridges down to rounded knolls and tables, rocky ruins split and shat- tered, giant slabs sliding edgewise into the deep, columns and grotesque masses ruffled with curling surf — the Cyc- lades of the west. I climb the shrouds, and behold fields and lanes of water, an endless and beautiful network, a 5 98 THE FBEEDOM OF THE SEAS. little Switzerland with her Tales and gorges filled with the purple sea. After dinner, and nearly sunset. We are breaking away from the isles into the open Atlantic, bearing northerly for Cape St. John, where Captain Knight prom- ises the very finest coast scenery. Far away on the blue, floats a solitary pyramid of ice, while a few miles to the east of us there stands the image of some grand Capitol, in shining marble. liooking back upon the isles, as they retire in the south and west, with the hues of sunset upon their green and cloud-like blue, we behold, the painter tells me, a likeness to some West-Indian views. Once again the breeze swells every sail, and we are speeding forward after the icebergs. All goes merrily. It sings and cracks aloft, and roars around the prow. We speed onward. The little ship, like a very falcon, flies down the wind after the game, and promises to reach it by the last of daylight. A long line of gilding tracks the violet sea, and expands in a lake of dazzling brightness under the sun. Beneath all this press of sail, we ride on fast and steadily, as a car over the prairies. We seem to be all alive. This is fine, inexpressibly fine ! This is freedom ! I lean forward and look over the bow, and, like a rider in a race, feel a new delight and excitement. Wonderful and beautiful I Like the Arab on his sands. U THE ICEBERG OF THE SUNSET. 99 I say, almost involuntarily, God is great ! How soft is the feeling of this breeze, and how balmy is the smell, " like the smell of Lebanon," and yet how powerful to bear us onward ! We rise and bow gracefully to the passing swells, but keep right on. Fogo is sinking in the south, a lino of roseate heights, and fresh ice sparkles like stars on the northern horizon. We dart off a mile or more from our right path in order to bring a small berg between us and the sun, that we may look into his sunset beauties. A dull cloud, close down upon the waves, may defeat this manoeuvre. We shall conquer yet. There, he rises from the sea, a sphinx of pure white against the glowing sky, and every man aboard is as full of fine excitement as if we were to grap- ple with, and chain him. We pass directly under the great face, the upper line of which overlooks our top- mast. Every curve, swell and depression have the finish of the most exquisite sculpture, and all drips with silvery water as if newly risen from the deep. In ihe pure, white mass there is the suspicion of green. Every wave, by contrast, and by some optical effect, nearly black as it approaches, is instantly changed into the loveliest green as it rolls up to the silvery bright ice. And all the adjacent deep is a luminous pea-green. The eye follows the ice into its awful depths, and is at once star- 100 THE ICEBERG OF THE SUNSET. tied and delighted to find that the mighty crystal hangs suspended in a vast transparency, or floats in an abyss of liquid emerald. We pass on the shadow side, soft and delicate as satin, and changeable as costliest silk ; the white, the dove- color and the green playing into each other with the sub- tlety and fleetness of an Aurora-Borealis. As the light streams over and around from the illuminated side, the entire outline of the berg shines like newly-burnished sil- ver in the blaze, of noon. The painter is working with all possible rapidity ; but we pass too quick to harvest all this beauty : he can only glean some golden straws. A few sharp words from the captain bring the vessel to, and we pause long enough for some finishing touches. He has them, and we are off again. An iceberg is an object most difficult to study, for which many facilities, much time, and some danger are indispensable. The voyager, passing at a safe distance, really knows little or nothing of one. Ten o'clock, and only twilight. We are now about to put up note-book and painting-box, and join our Eng- lish companions in a walk up and down our little deck. Notwithstanding their familiarity with icebergs, they ap- pear to enjoy them with as keen a zest as we, now that they are brought into this familiar contact with them. FLiaUT INTO TWILLINQATE. 101 After the walk, and by candle-light in the cabin. The wind is strengthening, and promises a gale. The black and jagged coast of Twillingate island, to the south, frowns upon us, and the great pyramid berg of sunset awaits us close at hand. For some time past, it has borne the appearance of the cathedral of Milan, shorn of all its pinnacles, but it now resumes its pyramidal form, and towers, in the dusk of evening, to a great height. After a brief consultation, we resolve to slip into the har- bor of Twillingate, a safe retreat from the coming storm, and there pass our first Sunday out of St, Johns. To dare this precipitous coast, haunted with icebergs, and a gale blowing right on, in so light a craft as ours, would be rash. Much as I wish to make the most of our time, I am glad to find that we are making harbor, and intend to rest, according to the law. I cannot take my mind's eye from the brilliant spec- tacle of the waves in conflict with the iceberg. I still hear the surf in the blue chasms. But with all the power of its charge, it is the merest toy to the great arctic mass, a playful kitten on the paws of the lion. After ten, and after prayer. We are rolling most un- comfortably while we are beating towards our anchorage between the headlands of the harbor. It is midnight nearly, and yet I am not in the least sleepy. The day is 102 FLIGHT INTO TWILLINGATE. BO lengthy, and we are so continually stimulated with the grandeur and novelty of these scenes that it is quite trouhlesome to sleep at all. A few hours of slumber, so thin that the sounds on deck easily break through and wake the mind, is about all I have. We are coming about, and roll down almost upon the vessel's side. The sails are loose, and roar in the breeze. The anchor drops home to its bed. The chain rattles and runs its length. "Wo repose in safe waters, and I turn in thankfully to my berth. i n !J CHAPTER XXIII. THE SUNDAY IN TWILLINGATE.-TUE MOKNINO OP THE FOUKTH. Monday Morning, July 4, 1859. We were lOUScd from our slumbers very suddenly, yesterday morning, by Mr. Hutchinson, in a loud and cheerful voice, telling us the pleasing news that the Church Ship was at anchor near by, and that he had exchanged salutations with the Bishop. His vessel had lost a spar in the same squall that drove us into Cat Harbor. To that accident we owed the pleasure of meeting him in TwiUingate, and of passing a profitable and happy Lord's day. The wind was blowing a perfect gale, and roared among the ever- green woods on the surrounding hills. At half-past ten, the Bishop's boat glided alongside, and bore us ashore, from which we walked past the church, through the assem- bling congregation, to the house of the Eector, the Rev. Thomas Boone, where we joined the Bishop and two or 104 THE MORNING OV THE FOURTH. three of the leading persons of the island. There were the regular morning and evening services, and a third service at night, completed though by good strong day- light. The house was filled, and the sermons plain and practical, their burden being repentance, faith in Christ, and obedience to his law. After supper, and a social hour with the Kector and his family, we returned to our vessels respectively, the north-western sky still white with daylight, and the thunder of the ocean breaking with impressive grandeur upon the solemn repose, into which all nature seemed gladly to have fallen after the tempest. I was up this morning at an early hour, and away upon the hills with Mr. Hutchinson and Master WiUiam Boone, a fine youth of fifteen, for our guide and. compan- ion. The main object was to get a view of the iceberg of Saturday evening. To my surprise and disappoint- ment, the ocean was one spotless blue. The berg had foundered, or gone off to sea. It was barely possible that it lay behind a lofty headland, beneath which we passed in making the harbor. To settle a question, which in some measure involved the pleasure of the day, we climbed a rocky peak beset with brushwood, and descried the berg close in upon the headland apparently, and, as I supposed, rapidly diminishing, a lengthy procession of THE MOBNING OF THE FOURTH. 105 fragments moving up the coast. Looking south, there was unrolled to view, spread out from east to west, the splendid island scenery of Notre Dame Bay, already de- scribed. A single reach of water, with islets and moun- tainous shores, had a striking resemblance to Lake George. At eight o'clock, we were again on board and ready for the boat, which, by appointment, was to take our party to the Hawk for a farewell breakfast with the Bishop. It is needless to say that we were most kindly and pleasantly entertained. The Bishop was pleased to accompany us back to our vessel, and to give us his part- ing blessing, on our own more humble deck. Just be- fore sailing. Master Boone came off to us in a boat with a gift of milk and eggs, and a nice, fat lamb. By ten o'clock, Iwjth the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes were waving on high in a south-west breeze, and we glided through the narrows toward the open sea, the chasms of the precipices heavily charged with the last winter's snow. 5* CHAPTER XXIV. TUB lOEBEBO OF TWILLINOATE. Twelve o'clock. The day wo celebrate. Threo cheers ! Now we aro after the iceberg. Upon getting near, we find it grounded in fifty fathoms of water, ap- parently storm-worn, and much the worse for the terrible buffeting of the r cent gale. Masses of the huge, glassy precipices seem to have been blasted off within the last hour, and gone away in a lengthy line of white frag- ments upon the mighty stream. We are now bearing down upon it, under full sail, intending to pass close under it. Our good angels bear us company as we pass. What an exquisite specimen of nature's handiwork it looks to be, in the blaze of noon! It shines like pol- ished silver dripping with dews. The painter is all ready with his colors, having sketched the outlines with lead. The water streams down in all directions in little rills and .fi ■m in THE ICEBERa OF TWILLINOATE. 107 falls, glistening in the light like molten glass. Veins of gcm-liko transparency, blue as sapphire, obliquely cross the opaque white of the prodigious mass, the pre- cious beauty of which no language can picture. Frag- ments lie upon the slopes, like bowlders, ready to bo dis- lodged at any moment, and launched into the waves. Now we dash across his cool shadow, and take his breath. There looks to be the permanency of adamant, while in reality all is perishable as a cloud, and charged with awful peril. Imagine the impressive grandeur and ter- rific character of cliffs, broad and lofty cliffs, at once so soUd, and yet so liable at any moment to burst asunder into countless pieces. We all know the danger, and I confess that I feel it painfully, and wish ourselves at a safe distance. The wind increases, and all is alive on deck. To my rehef, we have fallen off to leeward beyond all harm. But we are on the back track, and mean to take him again, and take the risques also of his terrible, but very beautiful presence. Now we run. If he were a hostile castle, he would open upon us his big guns, at this in- stant. Bravely and busily the waves beat under the hoi-, low of the long, straight water-line, rushing through the low archways with a variety of noises, — roaring, hissing, slapping, cracking, lashing the icy vaults, and polishing 108 THE ICEBERG OF TWILLINOATE. and mining away with a wild, joyous energy. Poor Ishmael of the sea 1 every hand and every force is against him. If ho move, he dashes a foot' against the deep down stones. While ho reposes, the sun pierces his gleaming helmet, and strikes through the joints of his glassy armor. In the seams and fissures the shadows are the softest blue of the skies, and as plain and palpable as smoke. It melts at every pore, and streams as if a perpetually overflowing fountain were upon the summit, and flashes and scintillates like one vast brilliant. Prongs and reefs of ice jutting from the body of the berg below, and over which we pass, give the water that emerald clearness so lovely to the eye, and open to the view something like the fanciful sea-green caves. We now lie to, under the lee side, fearfully close, it seems to me, when I recollect the warning of the Bishop, never, on any account, to ven- ture near an iceberg. Its water-line, under which the waves disappear in a lengthy, piazza-like cavern, with ex- plosive sounds, is certainly a remarkable feature. Occa- sional glimpses unfold the polish, the colors^ and the graceful winding of sea-shells. A strong current in con- nection with the wind forces us, I am glad to say, to a more safe and comfortable distance. The last ten min- utes has given us a startling illustration of the dangers THE lOEBEIta OF TWILLIMOATIS. 109 of which we have been forewarned : a crack like a field- piece was followed by ^he falling of ice, on th»j opposite side of the berg, attended with a sullen roar. We round to, and take the bree2je in our faces. The ice is up the wind, square before us, and we must after it by a tack or two. The stars and stripes yet float aloft, and seem to tremble with delight as we sport through these splendid hours of Freedom's holiday. The berg with its dazzling white, and dove-colored shadows, — the electric breeze^ — the dark sea with its draperies of spark- ling foam, north, east, south, out to the pure azure of the encircling sky, — the sunshine, that bright spirit and cease- less miracle of the firmament, — the white-winged vessel boxing the billow, now rolling on black and cloud-like, now falling off with the spotless purity of a snow-drift, — the battle of the surges and the solid cliffs, all conspire to enliven and excite. While the painter is busy, overlooked by Mr. Hutch- inson, and I lean over the bow and scribble in my note-book, a sailor comes forward and gazes upon the ice- berg as if he, too, was looking at something new. He Las passed them by, time out of mind, either idly or with dis- like, as things to be shunned, and not to bo looked back at when safely weathered. Now that his attention is called, he finds that this useless mass, tumbling about in & 110 THE IGEBEBQ OF TWILLINQATE. the path of mariners, is truly a most wonderful creation. Like all the larger structures of n/iture, these crystalline vessels are freighted with God's power and glory, and must be reverently and thoughtfully studied, to " see into the life of them/' The common clouds, which unnoticed drop their shadows upon our dwellings, and spot the land- scape, are found to be wonderful by those alone who watch them patiently and thoughtfully. " The witchery of the soft blue sky did never molt into the poet's heart ; he never felt the witchery of the soft blue sky" but from silent, loving study. Captain Enight backs the sails, and we hold on near enough to the ice to see the zone of emerald water, a fearfully close proximity. Look up to those massy folds and wreaths of icy drapery, all flashing in the sun 1 See that gigantic wing, not unlike the pictured wings of an- gels, unfolded from one "»^ the vast shoulders, and spread upon the high air. As the wind sweeps over and falls upon us, we feel an icy chilliness. Beyond a very short distance, however, we are unable to perceive the smallest influence. We are now to the leeward, half a mile or so, and are watching the Captain, who has gone with the boat and a couple of men to gather ice out of the drift, which stretches from the berg in a broken line for two miles or THE lOEOEBG OF TWIILINGATE. in more. Portions qf this have fallon within tho last hour, keeping up a kind of artillery discharge, very agreeable to hear at this distance, and quite in harmony with the day at home. They have struck tho ice, a mile ofif, and the chips sparkle in tho sunshine as they ply the axe. As they return, we drop down tho wind to meet them. Hero they come with a cart-load of the real arctic alabas- ter, the very same, I have no question, that hung an hour ago as one of the shining crags of the lofty ice-cliff. And now, with all sail spread, and a spirited breeze^ away to the north-west for Capo St. John. CHAPTER XXV. THE FEEEDOM OP THE SEAS ONCE MOEE.— A BUMPEB TO THE QUEEN AND PEE8IDENT. The waves are crisp with a snowy mane, and the rocky shores of Twillingate are draped with splendid lights and shadows. While the seams and surfaces of the cliffs are strikingly plain in the sunlight, they are dark as caverns in the shade. This gives the coast a wonderfully broken, wild, and picturesque look. Once more the sea " is all before us where to choose." The joy of this freedom is utterly inexpressible, although, in consideration of + o day, we — we Yankees — occasion- ally hurra right heartily. But no words can do justice to the delightful emotions of moments such as these. " Messmates, hear a brother sailor sing the dangers of the sea," runs the old song. None that I have ever heard or read express at all the real pleasure of \i^ freedom. The THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS ONCE MORE. 113 freedom of the seas ! If any great city council would do a man of feeling a noble pleasure, let them vote him that. A lonely isle of crystalHne brightness, all the way from Melville Bay, most likely, gleams in the north-east.. Pale and solitary, like some marble mausoleum, the ice- berg of Twillingate stands off in the southern waters. After all, how feeble is man in the presence of these arc- tic wonders ! With all his skill, intelligence and power, he passes, either on the sunny or the shady side, closely at his peril, only in safety at a distance too great to satisfy his curiosity, and gazes at their greatness and their splendor, and thinks and feels, records his thoughts and feelings, draws their figure and paints their com- plexion, but may no more lay his hand upon them than the Jew of old might lay his hand upon the ark of tho covenant. He may do it and live, do it twice or thrice, and then he may perish for his temerity. There now re- poses, amid the currents and billows of the ocean, tho huge, polar structure, which has been to us an object of the liveliest interest and wonder ; its bright foundations fifty fathoms in the deep ; an erection suggestive of the skill and strength of the Creator ; with a mystery en- veloping its story, its conception, birth and growth, its native land, the hour of its departure, its strange and labyrinthine voyage. While the body of this building- 114 A BUMPEU TO THE QUEEN AND FBESIDENT. of-the-elements slcopa below, and only its gables and towers glow and melt in the brightness of these summer days, yet is it as dissolvable as the clouds from which it ^originally fell. It is but the clouds condensed and crys- tallized. A column of vapor, mainly invisible,' perpetu- ally ascends into its native heavens, while the atmos- phere, and the warm, briny currents melt and wear, at every imaginable point of the vast surface. Pass a few sunny weeks, and all will be melted, and, like a snow- flake, lost in the immensity of waters. Still the flags wave above. We fill our glasses with iceberg-water, and drink with cheers to the Queen and President. As the breeze dies away in the long, long afternoon, and we roll lazily on the glassy swcUs. the painter and I, the poorest of sailors, lapse into sea-sick- ness, and go below. CHAPTER XXVI. GULL ISLAND.— THE ICEBEEQ3 OP CAPE 6T. JOHN. Tuesday, July 5. Off Cape St. John, with fog and head winds. We are weary of this fruitless heating ahout, and resolve to put into smooth water for the sake of relief from sea-sickness. While our English guests seem to enjoy the breakfast, we have gone no further than to sip a little tea, take a few turns on deck in the chilly morning air, and return to the cabin, where I pencil these notes. There is a dome-shaped J)erg before us in the mist, but not of sufficient beauty in the dull gray atmosphere to attract attention. Exclamations of our friends on deck have brought me up to look at the ice as we pass it, distant, it may be, five hundred yards. It bears a strange resemblance to a balloon lying on its side in a collapsed 116 THE ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. condition. It has recently undergone some heavy dis- ruptions, and rolled so far over as to bring its late water- line, a deep and polished fissure, nearly across the top of it. There is a promise of clear weather. The clouds, to our delight, are breaking, and giving us peeps of the sunny azure far above. The Cape is in full view, a promontory of shaggy precipices, suggestive of all the fiends of Pande- monium, rather than the lovely Apostle, whose name has been gibbeted on the black and dismal crags. The salt of that saintly name cannot save it. Nay, it is better fitted to spoil the saint. Cape St. John I Better, Capo " Moloch, Horrid King," or some other demon of those that figure in the dark Miltonic scenes. It is terribly awful and impressive. Our lamb, poor innocent, seems to feel lonely under the frown of a coast so inhospitable and savage, and comes bleating around us as if for sym- pathy. The wind is cold and bracing, sweeping alike the sea and the sky of all fog and clouds, and driving us to heavy winter clothing. As we bear down toward the Cape, we pass Gull Isle, a mere pile of naked rocks delicately wreathed with lace- like mists. Imagine the last hundred feet of Corway Peak, the very finest of the New Hampshire mountain tops, pricking above the waves, and you will see this THE ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. 117 1 little outpost and breakwater of Cape St. John. All things have their uses. Even this bone of the earth, picked of all vegetable growth and beauty, and flung into the deep, has the marrow of goodness in it to a degree that invites a multitude of God's fair creatures to make it their estate and dwelling-place. GuUs with cimetar- like pinions, cut and slash the air in all directions. Pretty little sea-pigeons fly to and fro, flying off with whistling wings in straight lines, and flying back, full of news, and full of alarm. A grand iceberg is before us, remarkable, in this par- ticular light, for its pure, white surface. A snow-drift, with its icy enamel, after a silver thaw, might be taken as a model of its complexion. This is a berg evidently of more varied fortunes than any we have yet seen. It is crossed and recrossed with old water-lines, every one of which is cut at right angles with its own system of lines, formed by the perpendicular dripping. It is ploughed and fluted and scratched deeply in all possible directions. At this very moment a new system of lines is rapidly forming by the copiously descending drip, over-streaming all those made when the berg had other perpendiculars. Any large fall of ice, for example, from the opposite side, would bow the berg toward us, sinking the present sea- line on this side, and lifting it on the other. In nearly 118 THE ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHieT. every case the berg, when it rolls, loses its old horizontal position, and settles in a new one. Immediately a new horizon-line, if it may so be called, with its countless ver- tical ones, of course, instantly commences forming, to be followed by a similar process, at each successive roll of the berg, unto the end. There are draperies of white sea-shell-like ice, with streaks of shadow in their great folds, which rival the softest azure. Indicative of the projections of the submarine ice, the light-green water extends out in long, radiating points; a kind of eme- rald spangle, with its bright central diamond on the pur- ple sea. It is a wonderfully magnificent sight to seo an almost black wave roll against an iceberg, and instantly change in its entire length, hundreds of feet, into that delicate green. Where the swell strikes obliquely, it reaches high, and runs along the face, sweeping like a satellite of loveli- ness in merry revolutions round its glittering orb. Like cumulous clouds, icebergs are perpetually mimicking the human face. This fine crystal creature, by a change in our position, becomes a gigantic bust of poet or philoso- pher, leaning back and gazing with a fixed placidity into the skies. In the brilliant noon, portions of it glisten like a glassy waterfall. The cold, dead white, the subtle greens, the blues, shadows of the softest slate, all contrast I old horizontal diately a new countless ver- brming, to be cessive roll of eries of white in their great Lcative of the it-green water kind of eme- ad on the pur- see an almost rtantly change 3 that delicate reaches high, ellite of leveli- ng orb. Like nimicking the )j a change in et or philoso- placidity into of it glisten ite, the subtle te, all contrast ',<' .^. ■^i? M vJaLi&\ ^ V^ Ife i&^. o w J( o O sr ». w PQ o M <1 THE KllJiliHK;: ' r \i».B feT, rfCMiJ. Ut) je fliiAhJng briglitiiv., iu -. way lucist. oxquif^iJo to T^ni^ to all tho ibrin'^ of iiatuio that swell to the r; • herg gro.v3 upon the mind nbtoni8hii?gly. ■ J\Qi:A plains of wuter, of course, it is the 'ji^iehill : m itscJf, ifc has fho lonely granttour of a wrccipicc in tiic laouni'slna. teai«v(»i/i uah of the descending ^ruii plu,«'go into tlio ocean. 7i ^'.'■'.id, with sucIj grar?^ «|.kfiuui rcgmttrit wvves retreats fic*?i^ «ho 1V0, in a Berks dC cu-weentric circles. ^^ i!S;::rf f liat n->liH ir nt'^'m the s:>t} J. It ^ V'. / •• JTVoi'L This 'TTV '■:'^'''- -i* ■ : i'c! ■■■••, •; C ^■ fj '%. THE ICEDEROB OF CAPE ST. JOHN. 119 with the flashing brightness in a way most exquisite to behold. True to all the forms of nature that swell to the sublime, an iceberg grows upon the mind astonishingly. On the boundless plains of water, of course, it is the merest molehill : in itself, it has the lonely grandeur of a broad precipice in the mountains. Foremost of several bergs, now hovering about the Cape, is one of greater magnitude than any we have pre- viously met. It is, on this front, a broad and lofty pre- cipice, very nearly resembling the finest statue-marble, newly broken. It is losing its upper crags, every now and then, and vibrating very grandly. At short intervals, wo hear sharp reports, like those of brass ordnance, fol- lowed by the rough, rumbling crash of the descending ice, and the dull roar of its final plunge into the ocean. After this awful burial of its dead, with such grand honors, a splendid regiment of waves retreats from the mournful scene, in a series of concentric circles, rivalling the finest surf that rolls in upon the sand. It is the very flower of the ocean cavalry. Under its fierce and bril- liant charge, -i^.n ordinary ship's boat would go down, almost to a certainty. It is what we have been most carefully warned to avoid. This fine iceberg presents, I fancy, much the same appearance it had in the Greenland waters. Its water-line, which is the only one visible, is 120 THE lOEBERQB OF GAPE BT. JOHN. not less than fifteen feet deep, and rises and falls, in its ponderous rockings back and forth, not moro than twenty feet, so vast the bulk below. I hove little doubt that the Alpine slopes and summits ore its primitive surface. " CHAPTER XXVII. TUB SPLENDID IGEBEROS OF GAPE ST. JOHN. We are making a round of calls on all the icebergs of Oaj)0 St. John, painting, sketching, and pencilling as we go. Our calls are cut short for the want of wind, and we lie becalmed on the low, broad swells, majestically rolling in upon the Cape, only a mile to the south-west. Captain Knight is evidently unquiet at this proximity. A powerful current is setting rapidly in, carrying us over depths too great for our cables, up to the very cliflfs. If the adventurous mariner, who first sighted this bold and forward headland, was bent upon christening it by an apostolic name, why did he not call it Cape St. Peter ? All in all, it is certainly the finest coast scenery I have ever seen ; and Captain Knight assures us it is the very finest on the eastern shore of Newfoundland. It is a Hack, jagged wall, often four, and even five hundred feet 6 122 THE SPLENDID ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. in height, with a five-mile front, and the deep sea close in to the rock, without a beach, and almost without a foothold. This stupendous, natural wharf stretches back into the south-west toward the main land, widening very little for twenty miles or more, dividing the large expanse of White Bay on the west from the larger expanse of Notre Dame Bay on the east and south, the fine -ffigean, before mentioned, with its multitudinous islands, of which we get not the least notion from any of our popular maps. Such is a kind of charcoal sketch of Cape St. John, toward which, in spite of all we can yet do, we are slowly drifting. Unless there be power in our boat, manned by all the crew pulling across the current, with the Captain on the bow cracking them up with his fine, firm voice, I do not see why we are not in the greatest danger of drifting ashore. It is possible that there is a breath of wind under the clifis, by which we might jscape round into still water. With all the quiet of the ocean, I see the white surf spring up against the precipices. In the strongest gales o£ the Atlantic, the surges here must be perfectly terrific, and equal to any thing of the kind on the globe. The great Baffin current, sweeping past with force and velocity, makes this a point of singular danger. To be wrecked here, with all gentleness, would be pretty sure destruction. In a storm, the chance of escape would THE SPLENDID ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. 123 be about the same, as in the rapids of Niagara. After all, there is a fine excitement in this rather perilous play with the sublime and desolate. Would any believe it ? I am actually sea-sick, and that in the full enjoyment of this grandeur of adamant and ice. I find I am not alone. The painter with his live colors falls to the same level of suffering with the man of the dull lead-pencil and the note-book. A slight breeze has relieved us of all anxiety, and all necessity of further effort to row out of danger. We are moving perceptibly up the wide current, and propose to escape to the north as soon as the wind shall favor. We have just passed a fragment of some one of the surrounding icebergs that has amused us. It bore the resemblance of a huge polar bear, reposing upon the base of an inverted cone with a twist of a sea-shell, and whirl- ing slowly round and round. The ever-attending green water, with its aerial clearness, enabled us to see its spiral folds and horns as they hung suspended in the deep. The bear, a ten-foot mass in tolerable proportion, seemed to be regularly beset by a pack of hungry little swells. First, one would take him on the haunch, then whip back into the sea over his tail and between his legs. Presently a bolder swell would rise and pitch into his back with a ferocity that threatened instant destruction. It only 124 THE SPLENDID ICEBERGS OP CAPE ST. JOHN. washed his satin fleece the whiter. While Bruin was turning to look the daring assailant in the face, the rogue had pitched himself back into his cave. No sooner that, than a very bull-dog of a billow would attack him in the face. The serenity with which the impertinent assault was borne was complete. It was but a puff of silvery dust, powdering his mane with fresher brightness. Noth- ing would be left of bull but a little froth of all the foam displayed in the fierce onset. He too would turn and scud into his hiding-place. Persistent little waves ! After a dash singly, all around, upon the common enemy, as if by some silent agreement under water, they would all rush on, at once, with their loudest roar and shaggiest foam, and overwhelm poor bear so completely, that noth- ing less might be expected than to behold him broken into his four quarters, and floating helplessly asunder. Mistaken spectators ! Although, by his momentary roll- ing and plunging, he was evidently aroused, yet neither Bruin nor his burrow were at all the worse for all the wear and washing. The deep fluting, the wrinkled folds and cavities, over and through which the green and silvery water rushed back into the sea, rivalled the most exqui- site sculpture. And nature not only gives her marbles, with the finest lines, the most perfect lights and shades, she colors them also. She is no monochromist, but poly- THB SPLENDID lOEBEKGa OF CAPE ST. JOHN. 125 ?l chroic, imparting such touches of dove-tints, emerald and azure, as she bestows upon her gems and her skies. We are bearing up under the big berg as closely as we dare. To our delight, what we have been wishing, and watching for, is actually taking place : loud explo- sions with heavy falls of ice, followed by the cataract-like roar, and the high, thin seas, wheeling away beautifully crested with sparkling foam. If it is possible, imagine the effect upon the beholder : This precipice of ice, with tremendous cracking, is falling toward us with a majestic and awful motion. Down sinks the long water-line into the black deep ; down go the porcelain crags, and galle- ries of glassy sculptures, a speechless and awful bap- tism. Now it pauses and returns : up rise sculptures and crags streaming with the shining, white brine ; up comes the great, encircling line, followed by things new and strange, crags, niches, balconies and caves ; up, up it rises, higher and higher still, crossing the very breast of the grand ice, and all bathed with rivulets of gleaming foam. Over goes the summit, ridge, pinnacles and all, standing off obliquely in the opposite air. Now it pauses in its upward roll : back it comes again, cracking, cradl- ing, cracking, " gr ang out harsh thunder" as it comes, and threatening to burst, like a mighty bomb, into mil- hons of glittering fragments. The spectacle is terrific 126 THE SrLENDID ICEBEllOS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. and magnificent. Emotion is irrepressible, and peals of wild hurra burst forth from all. The effect of the sky-line of this berg is marvellously beautiful. An overhanging precipice on this side, and steep slopes on the other, give thin and notched ridge, with an almost knife-like sharpness, and the transparency and tint of sapphire, a miracle of beauty along the heights of the dead white ice, over which the sight darts into the spotless ultramarine of the heavens. On the right and left shoulders of the berg, the slopes fall off steeply this way, having the folds and the strange purity peculiar, to snow-drifts. One who has dwelt pleasantly upon draperies in marble, — upon those lovely swellings and depressions, — those sweet surfaces and lines of grace and beauty of the human form, perfected in the works of sf'ulptors, will appreciate the sentiment of the ices to wliich I point. At the risque of being thought over-sentimental and extravagant, I will say something more of the great iceberg of Cape St. John, now that we are retiring from it, and giving it our last look. Of all objects an iceberg is in the highest degree multiform in its effects. Changeable in its colors as the streamers of the northern sky, it will also pass from one shape to another with singular rapidity. As we recede, the upper portions of the solid ice have a THE SPLENDID ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. 127 light and aerial effect, a description of which is simply impossible. Peaks and spires rise out of the strong and apparently unchanging base with the light activity of flame. A mighty structure on fire, all in ice I Cape St. John ! — As we slowly glide away toward the north, and gaze back upon its everlasting cliffs, confront- ed by these wonderful icebergs, the glorious architecture of the polar night, I think of the apostle's vision of per- manent and shining walls, " the heavenly Jerusalem," "the city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God." " The good south wind " blows at last with strength, and we speed on our way over the great ocean, darkly shining in all its violet beauty. Pricking above the hori- zon, the peak of a berg sparkles in the glowing daylight of the west like a silvery star. C has painted with great effect, notwithstanding the difficulty of lines and touches from the motion of the vessel. If one is curious about the troubles of painting on a little coaster, lightly ballasted, dashing forward frequently under a press of sail, with a short sea, I would recommend him to a good, stout swing. While in the enjoyment of his smooth and sickening vibrations, let him spread his pallet, arrange his canvas, and paint a pair of colts at their gambols in some adjacent field. 128 THE SPLENDID ICEBERGS OF CAPE ST. JOHN. The novelty and grandeur of these Newfoundland seas and shores have busied the pencil so completely as to exclude much interesting matter, especially such as Cap- tain Knight is continually contributing in his conversa- tion. As we have been, for some time past, crossing the fields of the sealer, and as the Captain himself has a large experience in that adventurous business, seals and sealing have legitimately a small place, at least, in this recital # CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SEAL FIELDS.— SEALS AND SEALING.— CAPTAIN KNIGHT'S SHIPWRECK. The seplers from St. Johns, for example, start upon their northern voyage, early in March, falling in with both ice and seals very frequently off the Capes of Con- ception and Trinity Bays. The ice, a snowy white, lies in vast fields upon the ocean, cracked in all ways, and broken into cakes or " pans " of all shapes and sizes. At one time, it resembles a boundless pavement dappled with dark water, into which vessels work their way, and upon which the seals travel : at another time, without the displacement of a block, this grand pavement of the sea rolls with its billows, rising and falling with such perfect order, that the men run along the ridges and down the hollows of the swells in safety. But this order goes into confusion in a storm, presenting in the succeed- 6* 130 SEALS AND SEALING. ing calm a waste of ruins, masses of ice thrown into a thousand forms. In the long, starry nights, or the moon- light, o: in the magic brilliancy of the aurora-borealis, the splendor of the scene,— dark avenues and parks of sleeping water, the silent glittering of mimic palaces and temples, sparkling minarets and towers, is almost super- uaturni As will be seen at once, bcsth the beauties and the perils incident to the ice, in caln. and tempest, enter largely into the experience of the sealers. To-night, their vessel may repose in a fairy land or fairy sea, of which poets and painters may dream without the least suspicion that any mortal ever beholds the reality, and to-morrow night, it may encounter the double dangers of ice and storm. Upon the fields just mentioned, the seals come from the ocean, in the depth of winter, and bring forth their young by thousands. There, while their parents come and go, the young things lie on the ice, fattening on their mothers' milk with marvellous rapidity, helpless and white as lambs, with expressive eyes almost human, and with the piteous cries of little children. In March, about as soon as the voyagers can reach them, they are of suitable age and size for capture, which is effected by a blow on the head with a club, a much more compassion- ate way of killing these poor lambs of the sea than by the CAPTAIN KNIGHT B SHIPWIIECK. 131 gun, which is much used in taking tho old ones. Occa- sionally they are drawn bodily to the vessel, but usually skinned on the spot, the fat, two or three inches deep, coming off from the tough, red carcass with tho hide, which, with several others is made into a bundle, dragged in by a rope, and thrown upon deck to cool. After a little, they are packed away as solidly as possible, to remain until discharged in port. Five, six, and seven thousand skins are frequently thus laid down, loading the vessel to the water's edge. An accident to which tho lucky sealer was formerly liable, was the melting of tho fat into oU from the sliding of the skins, caused by tho rolling of the ship in stormy weather. To such an ex- tent was this dissolving process sometimes carried, as to reduce the cargo to skins and oil, half filling cabin and forecastle, driving the crew on deck, rendering the vessel unmanageable in rough weather, and requiring it to bo abandoned. This is now securely guarded against by numbers of upright posts, which crib, and hold the cargo from shifting. Several years ago. Captain Knight, while beset with the kind of ice, described as so beautiful in the bright nights, encountered, with many others, a terrific gale, to this day, a mournful remembrance to many people. If I am not mistaken, some eighty sail were wrecked, at the 132 CAPTAIN KNIQHT'S BHIFWREOK. time, along these iron shores. In fact, very few that were out escaped. Several crews left their vessels and fled to land over the rolling ice-fields, the more prudent way. A forlorn hope was to put to sea, the course adopted by Captain Knight. By skill and coolness ho slipped from the teeth of destruction, and in the face of the tempest escaped into the broad ocean. It was but an escape, just the next thing to a wreck. One single sea, the largest he ever experienced in numerous voyages along this dreadful coast, swept his deck, and nearly made a wreck of him in a moment, carrying overboard one man, nine boats, every sealing-boat on board, and every thing else that could be wrenched away. Another gigantic roller of the kind would have destroyed him. But he triumphed, and returned to St. Johns in time to refit, and start again. Captain Knight was less fortunate, no later than last April, when he lost a fine brig with a costly outfit for a sealing voyage, under the following circumstances : IiJ^ mersed in the densest fog, and driven by the gale, he was running down a narrow lane or opening in the ice, when the shout of breakers ahead, and the crash of the bows upon a reef, came in the same moment. Instantly, over- board they sprang, forty men of them, and saw their strong and beautiful vessel almost immediately buried in CAPTAIN KNIGHT 8 SHIPWRECK. 133 tho ocean. There they stood, on the heaving field of ice, gazing in mournful silence upon tho groat, black billows as they rolled on, one after another, bursting in thunder on tho sunken cliffs, a tremendous display of surf where tho trembling spars of the brig had disappeared forever. To the west of them were the precipitous shores of Cape Bo- na vista, lashed by the surge, and the dizzy roost of wild sea-birds. For this, the nearest land, in single file, with Captain Knight at their head, they commenced at sunset their dreadful, and almost hopeless march. All night, without refreshment or rest, they went stumbling and plunging on their perilous way, now and then sinking into the slush between the pans or ice-cakes, and having to be drawn out by their companions. But for their leader and a few bold spirits, the party would havo sunk down with fatigue and despair, and perished. At daybreak, they were still on the rolling ice-fields, be- clouded with fog, and with nothing in prospect but the terrible Cape and its solitary chance of escape. Thirsty, famished, and worn down, they toiled on, all the morn- ing, all the forenoon, all the afternoon, more and more slowly, and with increasing silence, bewildered and lost in the dreadful cloud travelling along parallel with the coast, and passing the Cape, but without knowing it at the time. But for some remarkable interposition of 134 CAPTAIN KNianx'S SniPWBECK. Divino Providence, the approaching sunset would bo their last. Only tho most determined would continue the march into tho next night. Tho worn-out and hopeless ones would drop down singly, or gather into little groups on tho cold ice, and die. As the Captain looked back on them, a drawn-out line of suffering men, now in the hol- low of tho waves, and then crossing the ridge, tho last of them scarcely seen in tho mist, he prayed that God would interpose, and save them. A man who prays in fair weather, may trust God in the storm. So thought Cap- tain Knight, when he thought of home, and wife and children, and the wives and the children of his men, and made his supplication. They had shouted until they were hoarse, and looked into the endless, gray cloud until they had no heart for looking any longer. Wonderful to tell I Just before sundown they came to a vessel. A few rods to the right or to the left, and they must have missed it, and been lost. It was owing to this disaster that Captain Knight was at leisure in St. Johns upon our arrival, and found it agreeable to undertake, for a few weeks, our guidance after the icebergs. CHAPTER XXIX. BELLE ISLE AND THE COAST.— AFTEU-DINNER DISCUSSION.— FIKST . VIEW OP LABKADOE.— ICEBEliaS.— THE OCEAN AND THE SUNSET. Wednesday, July 6. After a quiet night, with a mild and favorablo breeze, the morning opens with the promise of a bright day. Our little cloud of sail is all up in the early sunshine, and moving before the cool south wind steadily forward down the northern sea. Erilliantly as the summer sun looks abroad upon the mighty waters, I walk the clean, wet deck, in the heaviest winter cloth- ing, and have that pleasant tingling in the veins which one feels in a brisk walk on a frosty autumnal morning. We are abreast of South Belle Isle, high lands fronting the ocean, with huge precipices, the fashion of most of the eastern coast of Newfoundland. With all their same- ness, their rugged grandeur i^nd the ceaseless battle of the waves below make theiu ever interesting. Imagine 136 AFTER-DINNEB DISCUSSIONS. the Palisades of the Hudson, and the steeper parts of the Highlands exposed to the open Atlantic, and you will have no imperfect picture of these shores. They have no great bank of earth and loose rocks heaped up along their base, but step at once into the great deep ; so deep that the icebergs, several of which are in sight, float close in, and seem to dare their very crags. Afternoon. We have a pleasant custom of coming up, after dinner, and eating nuts and fruits on deck. It is one of the merry seasons of the day, when John Bull and Jonathan are apt to meet in those pleasant encoun- ters which bring up the past, and draw rather largely upon the future, of their history. John is always the greatest, of course, and ever will be, secula seculorum. Jonathan, " considering," is greater than John. To be sure he is thinner, and eats his dinner in a minute ; but then he has every thing to do, and the longest roads on earth to travel, in the shortest time. In fact, he has many of the roads to make, and the least help and the shortest purse of any fellow in the world that undertakes and completes grand things. John's first thousand years is behind him ; Jonathan's, before him. One's work is done ; the other's begun. John's fine roads were made by his forefathers ; Jonathan is the forefather himself, and is making roads for his posterity. In fact, Jonathan is a 00 W '•.V ^,■ ^''^'i- '\ J» ■ ''^. *v s^ AFTER-DINNER DI ''USSIONS. 137 ^»lt youth only, and John an old man. When the lad get'i his growth, he will be everywhere, and the old fogy, by that time, comparatively nowhere. Jonathan insists that he is up earlier in the morning than John, and smarter, faster, and more ingenious. He contends that he has seen his worst days, and John his very best. The longer the diverging lines of the dispute continue, the further they get from any end ; and wind up finally with one general outburst of rhetoric, distinguished for its noise, in which each springs up entirely conscious of a perfect victory. In the complicated enjoyment of almonds, figs, and victory, we betake ourselves to reading, the pencil and the brush. We are coasting along the extreme northern limb of Newfoundland, bound with its endless girdle of adamant, upon which the white lions of old Neptune are perpetu- ally leaping, but which they will never wrench away. The snow lies in drifts along the heights, a novel, but rather dreary decoration for a summer landscape. Be- tween us and the descending sun stands a berg, church- like in form. The blue shadows in contrast with the pure white, have a deep, cloud-like, and grand appear- ance. It is certainly a most superb thing, rising out of the blue-black waves, now gleaming in the slant sunlight like molten silver. So vast and varied is the scene, at this moment, that many pencils and many pens would 138 FIRST VIEW OF LABRADOR. fail to keep pace with the rapid description of the mind. Directly west, is the Land's End of Newfoundland, Cape Quirpon — in the seaman's tongue, Carpoon, which we now shoot past. A few miles to the north, as if it might have been split off from the Cape, lies Belle Isle. The broad avenue of dark sea, extending westward be- tween the cape and the island, opens out into the Strait of Belle Isle, and carries the eye to the shore of Labra- dor, our first view of that bony and starved hermit of a country. In this skeleton sketch, as it shows on paper, there is nothing very remarkable ; but with the flesh and the apparel of natuje upon it, it is more beautiful than language can paint to the reader's eye. The entire east is curtained by one smooth cloud, of the hue called the ashes-of-roses. Full against it, an iceberg rises from the ocean, after the figure of a thunderhead, and of the color of a newly-blown roee of Damascus — a gorgeous spectacle. The waters have that dark violet, with a silvery surface, lucent like the face of a mirror, and a complexion in the deeps reminding one of the soft, dusky hues of a Claude Lorraine glass. The painter is busy with his colors, and all are silently opening mind and heart to the uni- versal beauty. We move on over the lovely sea with a c[uiet gracefulness, in harmony with the visible scene and #- ICEBERGS. 139 with our emotions. We are looking for unusual splen- dors, at the approaching sunset. I close the note-book, and give myself entirely to the enjoyment of the lonely and still magnificence. The book is open to record. The sun on the rugged hills of Labrador, a golden dome ; Belle Isle, a rocky, blue mass, with a wavy outline, rising from the purple main pricked with icebergs, some a pure white, others flaming in the resplendent sunset like red-hot metal. We are sailing quietly as an eagle on the still air. Our English friends are heard singing while they walk the deck, and look off upon the lonesome land where their home is waiting for them. All that we anticipated of the sunset, or the after- sunset, is now present. The ocean with its waves of Tyrian dye laced with silver, the tinted bergs, the dark- blue inland hills and brown headlands underlie a sky of unutterable beauty. The west is all one paradise of colors. Surely, nature, if she follows as a mourner on the footsteps of the fall, also returns jubilant and glorious to the scenes of Eden. Here, between the white light of day and the dark of the true evening, shade and bright- ness, like Jacob and the angel, now mv3et and wres- tle for the mastery. Close down along the gloomy purple of the rugged earth, beam the brightest lemon 140 THE OCEAN AND THE SUNSET. hues, soon deepening into tho richest orange, with scat- tered tints of new straw, freshly hlown lilacs, young peas, pearl and blue intermingled. Above are tho royal draperies of the twilight skies. Clouds in silken threads and skeins ; broad velvet belts and ample folds black as night, but pierced and steeped and edged with flaming gold, scarlet and crimson, crimson deep as blood ; crimson fleeces, crimson deep as blood ; plumes tinged with pink, and tipped with fire, white fire. And all this glory lies sleeping on the shore, only on the near shore of thb ^r-eat ethereal ocean, in the depths of which are melted and poured out ruby, sapphire and emerald, pearl and gold, with the living moist blue of human eyes. The painter gazes with speechless, loving wonder, and I whis- per to myself : This is the pathway home to an immor- tality of bliss and beauty. Of all the days in the year, this may be the birth-day of the King-of-day, and this eflfulgence an imperial progress through the grand gate of the west. How the soul follows on in quiet joy, dreaming of lovely ones, waiting at home, and lovely ones departed, waiting with Christ ! Here come those wondrous lines of Goethe, marching into the memory with glowing pomp : . . . . " The setting Sun 1 He bends and sinks^— the day is over- lived. Yonder he hurries off, and quickens other life. Oh ! that I THE OCEAN AND THE SUNSET. 141 have no wing to lift mo from the ground, to struggle after, forever after him ! I should see, in everlasting evening heams, the stilly world at my feet, — every height on fire, — every vale in repose, — the silver brook flowing into golden streams. The rugged mountain, with all its dark defiles, would not then break my god-like course. Already the sea, with its heated bays, opens on my enraptured sight. Yet the god seems at last to sink away. But the now impulse wakes. I hurry on to drink his everlasting light, — the day before me and the night behind, — ^the heavens above, and under mo the waves. A glorious dream ! as it is passing, he is gone." Here come the last touches of the living coloring, tinging the purple waves around the vessel. Under the icebergs hang their pale and spectral images, piercing the depths with their mimic spires, and giving them a lus- trous, aerial appearance. The wind is lulling, and we rise and fall gracefully on the rolling plain. " The day is fading into the later twilight, and the twilight into the solemn darkness." No, not into darkness ; for in these months, the faint flame flickering all night above the white ashes of day from the west circling around to the north and east, the moonlight and the starlight and the northern-light, all conspire to make the night, if not " more beloved than day," at least very lovely. A gloomy duskiness drapes the cape, beneath the solitary cliffs of which lies half entombed a shattered iceberg, a ghostly wreck, around whose dead, white ruins the mad surf springs up and flings abroad its ghastly arms. Softly 142 THE OCEAN AND THE SUNSET. comes its sad moaning and blends with the plaintive melodies of the ocean. Hark I a sullen roar booms across the dusky sea — nature's burial service and the funeral guns. A tower of the old iceberg of the cape has tn abbd into the billows. We gather presently into the c bin for prayer, and so the first scene closes on the coast : xtibrador. V \ CHAPTER .XX. THE MIDNIGHT LOOK-OUT FOEWAxv^.— A 8T0EMT NIOnT.— TEE COMEDY IN THE CABIN. Past Midnight. I have jeen up and watching for- ward for more than an hour, roused from my "berth by the cry of ice. A large ship, with a cloud of sail, passed just across our head, hound for Old England. "That's a happy fellow," says the man at the helm; "past the dangers of the St. Lawrence and the Straits, and fairly out to sea." The wind is rising, and promises a rough time. " There is something," I said to myself, as I leaned, and looked over the bow, " there is something in all this, familiar as it is to many, very grand and awful, as we rise upon the black seas, and plunge into the dark- ness, rushing on our gloomy, strange way. We seem to be above the very * blackness of darkness,' and riding upon the bosom of the night. The sounding foam, sweep- 144 THE MIDNIGHT LOOK-OUT FORWARD. ing forward from beneath our bows^ looks like a cloud of supernatural brightness, its whiteness filled, as it is, vitli the fire and electric scintillations of the sea. One could easily imagine himself sailing on the breeze through the night, vnth sparks of lightning and a cloud at his vessel's bow." The wind freshens to a gale nearly, and all hands are called on deck. We are rolling in a most uncomfort- able manner, and I have retreated to my cabin^ and will creep back to my berth. Thursday Noon, July 7. A few scrawls of the pen- cil will serve to give an outline of our experience for the last twelve hours. A dense fog, high wind and a heavy swell. As a matter of course, our little ship has been in great commotion, and we, miserably sea-sick, regardless of breakfast, absent from the cold, wet deck, and rolled up below, dull and speechless in bed. "We have been gradually creeping up into the world, of late, sipping a little coffee and nibbling at crackers. We are off Cape St. Louis, the most eastern land of the continent. The few turns on deck have sufficiently electrified the brain to enable me to get on thus far with my notes, and to venture upon a short description of a cabin-scene, at a very late hour last night. Three sides of our cabin, a room some ten feet by twelve, and barely six feet under the beams, are taken up A BTOUMY NIGHT. 145 by four roughly-made berths ; one on each side, and two extending crosswise, with a space between them, fitted up with shelves, and used for the flour-barrel, and as a cupboard. Beneath the berths are trunks, tubs, bags, boxes and bundles, most of our choicest stores. From the centre, and close upon the steep, obtrusive stairs, covered with a glossy oil-cloth, of a cloudy brown and yel- low, our table looks round placidly upon this domestic scene, so indicative of refreshment and repose. With this little sketch of our sea-apartment, the stage upon which was enacted our last night's brief play, I will un- dertake its description, promising a brevity that rather suggests, than paints it. After the midnight look-out forward for ice, and the retreat to the cabin, I soon joined in the general doze, rather suffered than enjoyed. In the uproar above, sharp voices and the rush of footsteps over the deck, occasion- ally stamping almost in our very faces, we were too fre- quently called back to full consciousness, to escape away into any thing better than the merest snatch of a dream. In my own case, the stomach, as usual, indulged itself in taking the measure of those motions, so disastrous to its peace and equipose ; those rollings, risings, sinkings, divings, flings and swings, in which there is the sense of falling, and of vibrations smooth and oily. Where one's 7 if 146 THE COMEDY IN THE CABIN. mind's eyo is perpetually looking down in upon the poor remains of his late departed dinner, there is no possibility for the outter eye to sink into any true and honest slum- ber. The shut lid is a falsehood. It is not sleep. The live, wakeful eye is under it, looking up against the skinny veil. Occasionally the veil is lifted just to let the dark out ; occasionally the dumb blackness falls in upon the retina like a stifling dust, and dims it, for a moment, to a doze. But the fire of wakefulness soon flashes up from the cells of the brain, and throws out the sleepy darkness, as the volcanic crater throws out its smoke and ashes. Through some marine manoeuvre, thought necessary by the master spirit on deck, and which could bo ex- plained by a single nautical word, if I only knew what the word is, we began to roll and plunge in a manner sufficiently violent and frightful to startle from its staid quiet almost every movable in the cabin. Out shot trunks and boxes — off slid cups and plates V7ith a smash — back and forth, in one rough scramble with the luggage, trundled the table, followed by the nimble chairs. At this rate of going on, our valuables would soon mix in one common wreck. Determining to interfere, I sprang into the unruly confusion, and succeeded in lighting a candle just in time to join in the rough-and-tumble, at the risk t THE COMEDY IN THE CABIN. 147 of ribs and limbs, and the object of mingled merriment and alarm to the more prudent spectators. Botswood, an experienced voyager, shouted me back to my berth in- stantly, if I would not have my bones broken at the next heavy lurch of the vessel. I was beginning to feel the force of the counsel, when another roll, almost down upon the beam-ends, overturned the butter-tub and a box of loaf-sugar, and brought their contents loose upon the field of action. They divided themselves between the legs of the table and the individual, and so, candle in hand and adorned in modest white, he sat flat down upon the floor among them, at once their companion in trouble and their protector. The marble-white sugar and the yellow butter, our luxuries and indispensable necessaries, there they were, on the common floor, and disposed for once to join in a low frolic with plebeian boots and shoes and scullion trumpery. With an earnest resolve to prevent all improprieties of the kind, one hand grasped, knuckle deep, the golden mellow mass, of the size of a good Yan- kee pumpkin, and held on, while the other was busy in restoring, by the rapid handful, the sugar to the safety of its box. The candle, in the mean time, encouraged by the peals of laughter in the galleries, slid back and forth in the most trifling manner possible. When we tipped one way, then I sat on a steep hill-side, looking wn to- I hi > 148 THE COMEDY IN TIIE CABIN, ward the painter, roaring in his happy valley : away slid the candle in her tin slippers, and away the barefooted butter wanted to roll after, encouraged to indulge in the foolish caper by a saucy trunk jumping down from be- hind. When we tipped the other way, then I sat on the same hill-side, legs up, looking up, an unsatisfactory position : back slid the candle, followed by a charge of sharp-pointed baggage, and off started the butter with the best intentions toward the tub, waiting prostrate and with open arms. Notwithstanding the repetition and sameness of this performance, the beholders applauded with the same heartiness, as if each change back and forth was a novel and original exhibition. What heightened the effect of the scene, and gave it a suspicion of the tragic, was a keg of gunpowder, which evinced, by several demonstrations of discontent in the dark corner where it tumbled about, a disposition to come out and join the candle. By a liappy lull, not unusual in the very midst of these cabin confusions during a brush at sea, the pow- der did not enter, and I was enabled to pitch the butter into the tub, and finally myself, after some few prelimi- naries with a towel, into my berth, where, in the course of the small remnant of the night, I fell into some broken slumbers. ; '>'.; 'l^.%- CHAPTER XXXI. THE CAPE AND BAT OP ST, LOUIS.— THE ICEBERG.— CARIBOO ISLAND. —BATTLE ILAEBOR AND ISLAND.— TUE ANCnOKAGE.— TUE MIS- SIONARIES. Five o'clock, P. M. What a pleasing contrast ! We. have been tossing nearly all day upon a rough, in- clement ocean, and are now on the sunny, smooth waters of the bay, gliding westward, with Cape St. Louis close upon our right. We have sailed from winter into sum- mer, almost as suddenly as we come out of the fog, at times — bursting out of it into the clear air, as an eagle breaks but of a cloud. It is fairly a luxury to bask in this delicious sunshine, and smell the mingled perfume of flowers and the musky spruce. Mr. Hutchinson is filled with delight to find himself once more on this beautiful bay. The rocky hUl-country along the western shores, nine or ten miles distant, is not th© mainland, he tells 150 THE ICEBERG. US, but islands, separated from the mainland, and from each other, by narrow waters, occasionally expanding into lakes of great depth, and extending more than forty miles from the sea. Were these savage hills and cliffs beauti- fied with verdure, and sprinkled with villages and dwell- ings, this would class among the finest bays of the world. Across it to the south, some seven miles, and partly out to sea, lies a cluster of picturesque islands, where is Bat- tle Harbor, the home of the missionaries, and the prin- cipal port on the lengthy coast of Labrador. A fine iceberg, of the fashion of a sea-shell, broken open to the afternoon sun, and unfolding great beauty, lies in the middle of the bay. We are sailing past it, on our passage to the harbor, just near enough for a good view. It gleams in the warm sun like highly-burnished steel, changing, as we pass it, into many complexions — changeable silks and the rarest china. The superlatives are the words that one involuntarily calls to his aid in the presence of an iceberg. From this bright creation floating in the purple water, I look up to the bright clouds floating in the blue air, and easily discover like- nesses in their features, ways and colors. The coast of Labrador is the edge of a vast solitude of rocky hills, split and blasted by the frosts, and beaten by the waves of the Atlantic, for unknown ages. Every CARIBOO ISLAND. 151 form into which rocks can be washed and broken, is visible along its almost interminable shores. A grand headland, yellow, brown and black, in its horrid nakedness, is ever in sight, one to the north of you, one to the south. Here and there upon them are stripes and patches of pale green — mosses, lean grasses, and dwarf shrubbery. Oc- casionally, miles of precipice front the sea, in which the fancy may roughly shape all the structures of human art, castles, palaces and temples. Imagine an entire side of Broadway piled up solidly, one, two, three hundred feet in height, often more, and exposed to the charge of the great Atlantic rollers, rushing into the churches, halls,- and spacious buildings, thundering through the doorways, dashing in at the windows, sweeping up the lofty fronts, twisting the very cornices with snowy spray, falling back in bright green scrolls and cascades of silvery foam. And yet, all this imagined, can never reach the sentiment of these precipices. More frequent, though, than headlands and perpen- dicular sea-frontR are the sea-slopes, often bald, tame, and wearisome to the eye, now and then the perfection of all that is picturesque and rough, a precipice gone to pieces, its softer portions dissolved down to its roots, its flinty bones left standing, a savage scene that scares away all thoughts of order and design in nature. If I am not 152 CARIBOO ISLANr. t I ji! mistaken, there are times when a slope of the kind, a mile or more in length, and in places some hundreds of feet in bread fch from the tide up to the highest line of washing, is one of the most terribly beautiful of ocean sights. In an easterly gale, the billows roll up out of the level of the ocean, and wreck themselves upon these crags, rushing back through gulfs and chasms in a way at once awfully brilliant and terrific. This is the rosy time of Labrador. The blue interior hills, and the stony vales that wind up axixong them from the sea, have a summer-like and plea^^ant air. I find myself peopling these regions, and dotting their hills, valleys, and wild shores with human habitations. A second thought, and a mournful one it is, tells me that no men toil in the fields away there ; no women keep the house of:' there ; Jiore no children play by the brooks, or shout around tliG country school-house ; no bees come home to the hive ; no smoke curls from the farm-house •Ir chimney ; no orchard blooms ; no bleating sheep fleck the mountain-sides with whiteness ; and no heifer lows in the twilight. There is nobody there ; there never was but a miserable and scattered few, and there never will be. It is a great and terrible wilderness of a thousand miles, and lonesome to the very wild animals and birds. Left to the still visitations of the light from the sun, f . BATTLE HABBOB AND ISLAND. 1(>3 moon, and stars, and the auroral fires, it is only ii' to look upon, and then be given over to its primevai -li- tariness. But for the living things of its waters, the cod, the salmon and the seal, which bring thousands of ad- venturous fishermen and traders to its bleak shores, Lab- rador would be as desolate as Greenland. We are now entering Battle Harbor, a most romantic nook of water, 6r Strait rather, between the islands form- ing the south side of the bay St. Louis. Cariboo Island fronts to the north on the bay, five or six miles, I should guess, and is a rugged mountain-pile of dark gray rock, rounded in its upper masses, and slashed along its shores with abrupt chasms. It drops short ofi", at it;^ eae ' ^m extremity, several hundred feet, into a narrow gult of deep water. This is Battle Harbor. The b iJ >wy p" ^ of igneous rock, perhaps two hundred and fc'7 /eel aigh, lying between this quiet water and the broad /. ulaT'tic, is Battle Island, and the site of the town, W.. ] ass a couple of wild islets, lying toaward, as we glic^e gently along toward our anchorage. There is little to be seen but hard, iron-bound bay, and yet we are all out, gazing abroad with silent curiosity, as if we were entering the Golden Horn. Up runs the Union Jack, auil Ulii^J its ancient crosses to the sun and breeze, and the fishermen look down upon us from their rude dwellings perched 7* .«-^ 154 THE MISSIONARIES. m , ■,<■ 1 ' ' ■« J. ■ 1* 1 !: among tho crags, and wonder who, and from whence wo are. For the moment, nothing seems to be going on but standing still and looking, men, women, and children. And now they will look and wonder still more : up run the Stars and Stripes, higher up than all, and overfloat the flag of England, and salute the sun and cliffs of Lab- rador. The missionary waves his handkerchief — ^wavcs his hat — calls pleasantly to a group upon the nearest shore. They look, and hearken, in tho stillness of uncer- tainty. Instantly there is a movement of recognition. The people know it is their pastor. The intelligence has caught, and. runs from house to house. Down drop the sails, rattling dow : the masts; the anchor plunges, and the cable runs, runs rattling and ringing from its coil. Kound the vessel swings in line with the breeze, and comes to its repose. We congratulate the missionary on his safe return, while he points us feelingly to the little church and parsonage, just above US on the mossy hill- side, and bids us welcome as long as we shall find it agreeable to remain. With light and thankful hearts, i>.nd pleasant anticipations, we prepare to go ashore, and take our first run upon the hills. :'r ;. ■; in.: U : • CHAPTER XXXII. BATTLE ISLAND AND ITS SCENERY. We sit down upon the summit of Battle Island, after a zigzag scramble up its craggy side, and talk and sketch and scribble, as we rest and look upon the blue, barren sea, and the brown and more barren continent, with its mountains of desert rock. With all this desolateness, the approaching sunset and the warm skies, the stern headlands, the white icebergs and bleak islands, and the bay with its rays and points of water, like a vast spanglo on the savage landscape, all compose a picture of singular novelty and grandeur ; at the present moment, wonder- fully heightened in beauty and spirit by a distant shower, itself a spectacle of brilliancy and darkness sweeping up from the north. Mr. Hutchinson here joins us, looking all the pleasure that ho feels, and points out what is visi- ■:"„^- 156 BATTLE ISLAND AND ITS SCENERY. ble of the lengthy, but narrow field of his religious labors. The harbor, with its vessels and various build- ings, lies quite below. One could very nearly throw a stone over the little church spire, and shoot a ril]e ball into the cliffs opposite. The air is spiced with the most delicate odors, which invites us to a short ramble in search of flowers, after whicb wo descend to the parson- age for tea. I have stolen out upon the small front piazza with a chair, to enjoy the warm sunshine and the sights of a Labrador village. The parsonage, whicb has been closed for more than a year past, has been cleaned and put in order by some kind Esquimaux parishioners, and looks neat and comfortable. H has taken us all through, from room to room — to the kitchen, pantry, bed- rooms, parlor, which serves also for dining-room, library and study, to the school-room up stairs, wbich is used at times as a chapel. As we passed the house clock, the pointer still upon the hour where it stopped more than eighteen months ago, the painter wound it up, and gave it a fresh start and the true time, whicb it began to measure by loud and cheerful ticks, as if conscious that life and spirit had relumed again to the vacant dwelling. On the shelf, over the fireplace, lay a prayer-book, tbe gift of Wordsworth to his nephew, with an affectionate in- \\ BATTLE ISLAND AND ITS SCENERY. 157 \\ scrip tion on a fly-leaf, in his own handwriting, while near by stood a couple of small pictures of the poet and his wife. As some fishermen are now drawing in their capelin seine, we are going to run down and see the sight. And quite a pretty sight it was. Not less than a barrel or two were inclosed, which they dipped with a small scoop- net into their boat, where they lay for a moment, flutter- ing like so many little birds of gaudy plumage under the fowler's net. The males and females of these delicate fishes, are called here, very comically, cocks and hens. As our boat, just then, came across from the vessel, the fishers gave us a mess for breakfast, all of half a bushel, which we carried over at once. At the sight of several fine salmon, on the fishing-flake close by, fresh from the net, the poor little capelin sank into immediate contempt. We must have a salmon or two. It was a question whether we could not eat several. It resulted in the purchase of one of sixteen pounds, at the cost of a dollar. We were pulled back immediatv^ly in order to sup with Mr. Hutchinson, and spend the remainder of the long, light evening in running over Battle Island. I shall not yield to the temptation to dwell upon the brilliant sunset which we saw from the summit rocks. Its glories were reflected in the bay, and shed upon the grim wilderness, 158 BATTLE ISLAND AND ITS SOENEBY. dissolving all its gloomy ruggedness into softest beauty. No language can depict the still and solemn splendor of the icebergs, reposing upon the burnished waters. Tem- ples and mausoleums of dazzling white, warming into tints of pink, or deepening on their shaded side into the sweetest azure, seemed to be standing upon a mighty mirror with their images below. I thought of that stand- ing on the sea of glass, in the glorious visions of St. John, and was filled with emotions of wonder and admi- ration. The words of the psalmist could hardly fail to be remembered : " These men see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep." One would think that all is couleur de rose in these lands beyond the reach of fashionable summer tourists. Let him remember that nature here blooms, beautifies, and bears for the entire year, in a few short weeks. Wo are in the very flush of that transient and charming time. Believe me, when I speak of the plants and flowers, shrubbery and mosses. At this moment, the rocky isle, bombarded by the ocean, and flayed by the sword of the blast for months in the year, is a little paradise of beauty. There are fields of mossy carpet that sinks beneath the foot, with beds of such delicate flowers as one seldom sees. There is a refined delicacy in the odor, which the %. BATTLE ISLAND AND ITS 80£N£BY. 159 ^ ordinary flora of warmer climes seldom has. Some rare exotic, reared with cost, and pampered by all the ap- pliances of art, may suggest the subtle spirit of these tiny blossoms. It steals upon the sense of smell with the indescribable tenderness of the music of the CBolian harp upon the ear. As I enjoy it, I know that I cannot paint it to the reader, and that I shall probably never " look upon its like again." It is very likely that the cool and very pure air, a refinement of our common atmosphere, has much to do with it. In our stroll, we found banks of snow still sleeping in the fissures above the showering of the surf, and peeping out from beneath their edges were clusters of pretty flowers. As we returned in the twilight, upon the mournful still- ness of which broke the voice of the surge, I lingered upon the cliffs to listen to the wood-thrush, the same most plaintive and sweet bird that sings in the Catskill mountain woods, at dusk and in the early morning. The pathos of its wild melody stole in upon the heart, waking " thoughts too deep for tears," and calling up a throng of tender memories of Cole and others, with whom tho songster, tho hour, and mountain scenery are forever associated. Startled by the voices of my companions, one a nephew of the famous poet, and the other a pupil of the painter scarcely less renowned, I hastened I ^>. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^128 1^ 1^ 2.5 12.2 i ■- IIIIIM 1.8 L25 i_U IIIIIL6 VI 'K^ '^ > '4V^ I 7 Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. M580 (716) 872-4503 CHAPTER XXXIV. OUB BOAT FOE THE ICEBEEG8.— AFTEE THE ALPINE BEEG.-BTUDY OP ITS WE8TEEN FACE. After dinner. Mr. Hutchinson has placed at our ser- vice his parish vessel, at once a schooner and a row-boat, of which Captain Knight, of course, is master, and our men the sailors. We are all ready, waiting its arrival alongside, in order for our first excursion after icebergs, equipped entirely to our mind. An hour's sail has brought us off into the broad wa- ters, south of Battle Harbor, close to a berg selected from the heights this morning. We drop sails, and row rapidly around it, for the best point of observation in the present light, The intention is to study the ices of these waters, at all points, and in all lights, with great care. From this, the western side, now glittering in the face of the sun, at six o'clock, it is alpine in its form, with one crowning peak, supported by pinnacles and buttresses, 166 AFTER THE ALPINE BERG. with intervening gulfs and hollows, each with its torrent hissing along down in white haste over glassy cliflfs and in alabaster channels, until it comes spouting into the sea from an overhanging precipice, varying from six, to twenty feet in height. Between the upper edge of this ice-coast and the great steeps of the berg, lies abroad slope, smooth as ivory, a paradise for the boys of a village school. Wo are actually tempted to land at a low place, and have a run. Without skates, or some arming of the boots, how- ever, we guess it would be rather perilous sport ; in short, simply impossible. We content ourselves with catching a panfuU of water, fresh from the great Humboldt gla- cier, quite likely, and cold and pure it is. While we are busy at the fountain, we amuse ourselves with looking down through the clear, green water — right imder us, clear almost as air — at the roots and prongs of the moun- tain mass. They shoot out into the dark sea below far beyond our boat, not a pleasing vision to dwell upon, when we refieoi,, that these very prongs and spurs only wait to take their turn in the sunshine, under the aspect of up- right towers. A heavy fall of ice, which may happen in a minute, on the opposite side of the berg, instantly gives the preponderance to this, when over this way slowly rolls the alpine peak, down sinks all this precipice, and after it, all the slanting field above ; then on rushes m^mmm »>'••" ■ ""m AFTER THE ALPINE BERG. 167 the sea in cnrling waves, and we are swept on with them. Before we can get back, and get away to a safe distance, by the force of mere sailor power, back rolls the berg, up rises the broad slope, followed quickly by the precipices rising up, up, and up into lofty cliflfs, with a foreground, a new revelation of ice ; in a word, the prongs and spurs now below us in the transparent deep. In all this play of the iceberg and the sea, what will bo our part ? And who knows whether the moment is not now close upon us for this sparkling planet of the main to burst asunder, a common process by which the mother berg throws off her little ones, rather, resolves herself entirely into a shoal of small icebergs ? Should that mo- ment really come while we are in this fearful proximity, you need not ask any questions about us, except those which you yourself can answer. There are the dead in these very waters, I believe, whose last earthly experience was among the-final thunders of these ices. I am struck with the rapid rate at which the bergs are perishing. They are dissolving at every point and pore, both in the air and in the sea. One sheet of water, although no thicker than a linen sheet, covers the entire alp. It trickles from every height, yonder glimmering like a distant window in the sunset, here cutting into the glassy surface and wording out a kind of jewelry, which 168 8TUDT OP ITS WESTERN FACE. sparkles with points of emerald and ruby. It rains from eves and gables, cornices and balconies, and spouts from gutters. All around, there is the pattering of a shower on the sea, and the sharp, metallic ringing of great drops, similar to what is heard around a pond in the still woods, when the dew-drops fall from the overhanging boughs. Below, the currents, now penetrated with the summer warmth, are washing it away. Around the surface-line, the ever-busy waves are polishing the newly-broken comers, and cutting under, and mining their way in, with deceitful rapidity. Unceasingly they bore and drill, without holi- day or sabbath, or rest at night, as the perpetual thun- ders of their blasting testify. Thus their ruin is hourly hastening to a consummation, and the danger of ap- proaching them made more and more imminent. The iceberg in winter, in the Arctic regions, and even here, is a different affair. In the cold, they are tolerably safe and sound. But now, in these comparatively '.epid seas, and in this warm atmosphere, lone wanderer, it finds no mercy. Motionless as this and several bergs appear, they are all slowly moving in toward the Strait of Belle Isle, borne forward by the great Baffin current, a stream of which bends around Cape St. Louis and these adjacent isles, and sets along the shore of Labrador into the Gulf of St. Lawrence. CHAPTER XXXV. TFIE ALPINE BERO. -STUDIES OP ITS BOUTHERN FRONT.-FRIGnTFUL EXPLOSION AND FALL OP ICE.-8TUDIES OP THE WESTERN SIDE. -OUR PLAY WITH THE MOOSE HORi ^,— THE SPLENDOR OF THE BERO IN THE SUNSET. We aro now lying under oars, riding quietly on the swells, distant, say, a hundred yards south of the berg, which has a visible, perpendicular front of five hundred, by one hundred and fifty feet or more elevation. It re- sembles a precipice of newly-broken porcelain, wet and dripping, its vast face of dead white tinged with green, here and there, from the reflection of the green water at its base. We are in its shadow, which reaches off on the runny sea, a long, dark track. The outline of the berg is one edge of dazzling brightness, a kind of irregular, flow- ing frame, gilt with sunlight, which comes pouring over in full tide from behind. Where the ice shoots up into thin spear-points, or runs along a semi-transparent blade, 8 170 STUDIES OF ITS BOUinEBN FRONT. the light shines through, and gives the tint of flame, with a greenish hand below, and lower still, a soft blue, pres- ently lost in the broad white. In these ices, never think of any such as you see at home, from Rockland and Cats- kill. Frozen under enormous pressure, and frozen to dry and flinty hardness, it has all the sparkle of minutest crystallization, and resembles, as I have said already, freshly broken statue-marble or porcelain, as you see it on the edge newly snapped. The surface of this ice is in itself a study singularly complex and subtle. How the mere passer-by, at a distance, is going to know any thing of value to a painter, I cannot tell. The fact is, he knows just nothing at all. A portrait-painter might as well pretend to have a knowledge of flesh, from seeing people at a distance. I think if I could study just here, for hours, I should be able to speak more correctly. Of course, the Painter, whose eye is trained to look into the. texture of surfaces, sees all more readily. I am looking up to rough crags, and enormous bulges, where the recent fracture would seem to have an almost painful sharpness to the touch. Where the surfaces have been for a time exposed to the weather, they have the flesh-finish of a statue. Along the lower portion, where you see the glass- ing effects of the waves, there it resembles the rarest Sevres vase, or even pearl itself, so exquisitely fine is STUDIES OF ITS SOUTHERN FBOKT. 171 p>v tho polish. It is almost mirror-liko. You perceive the dim images of passing objects, shadowy ships and shores. Where the light pours over it in its strength, it shines like burnished steel in the sunshine. Under the manifold effects of atmosphere, light and shade, none can imagine, through the medium of mere description, the grandeur and glory of these moving Alps of ice. Here now, is one simple feature, which our dan- gerous proximity alone enables us to view, tho wondrous beauty of which — ^beauty to tho feelings as well as to tho eye — I cannot find any language to paint. I may talk of it through a hundred periods, and yet you will never feel and see a tithe of what you would in a moment, were you here upon the spot. The berg, in tho deep shadow of which we now sit painting and writing, as I have inti- mated, is in form a mountain pinnacle, split down from tho summit square, and the split tiide toward our boat. What has became of the lost half, tho Great Builder of icebergs only knows. We are under the cliffs, from which that unknown part burst off and fell away. It is an awful precipice, with all the features of precipices, such as are seen about capes, headlands and ocean shores. Here it swells out, there it sinks in, masses have slidden out, and left square-headed doorways opening into the solid porcelain, ridges run off, and hollows run in and r »i m 172 EXPLOSION AND FALL OP ICE. around. In these very hollows and depressions is the one feature of which I am speaking. And^ after all, what is it ? It is simply shadow. Is that all ? That is all : only shadow. AK the grand fa9ade is one shadow, with a rim of splendoi like liquid gold leaf or yellow flame, hut in those depressions is a deeper shadow. Shadow under shadow, dove-colored and blue. Thus there seems to be drifting about, in the hollow lurking- places of the dead white, a colored atmosphere, the warmth, softness, and delicate beauty of which no mind can think of words io express. So subtle is it and evan- escent, that recollection ct anot recall it when once gone, but by the help of the heart and the feelings, where the spirit of beauty last dies away. You can feel it, after you have forgotten what its complexion precisely is, and from that emotion you may come to remember it. You would remember nothing more beautiful. Any doubt that I may have entertained about the danger of lying under the shadow of this great ice-rock is now wholly dispelled. We have just witnessed what was, for the moment, a perfect cataract of ice, with all its mo- tion, and many timeQts noise. Quick as lightning and loud as thunder, when bolt and thunder come at the same instant, there was one terrific crack, a sharp and silvery ringing blow upon the atmosphere, which I shall i is the nil, what That is shadow, r yellow shadow. . Thus lurking- ere, the no mind nd evan- ace gone, here the ifter you md from )U would )out the rock is hat was, its mo- ing and at the arp and I shall I' -i.- Pi I o *:; fl^.. Hcvtn- fargoi, nor ever Le able to dcscribo. It bliO'->k mo iiiroiiL'ii, and btruck the very lieart. 'The only roHjionse on my {.Mrt, aadi was nut ulono in the frlj^htj was a ((.iivnl- Hive Hpiiiig to tile feet, ai)d \.i shout to tho oarsmen, of r.^jroe eonLniaud, '' liow baek ! row back ! " Tlio r>pccta- cle wa-^ nearly an fitiirl:liaj»; as the eAplosion. At oiv.'C, the upper faco of the ber^- bunst out upo;; the air, as il it had been blasted, and s ^\';■ ?; ii''«'ii m^'-'^f •■ '^^-d', a hugo oataraet of i^twit^. «||^ "^-^ :•,; n a wlM; ■:;rash!.u:4 roii^Tf it»Ujr**«»* .,^- tA4«. r.cfev)t:, *iiUfei3 t!it{ii=i( ';be pbvngo into the ocean , and the rolhng away of? , ■ ".'^li-c rested scan, fmd tiie rockin:; of the TTnjrhty m-u . ■k an 1 fortbj in th.o effort to rogjiin it^) etju iHbriti{^v ' rcadcd the ejicoiuiter ; but our wh ;ih'-bori.t was (j^urle .>i^ DC, and brdastcd rlic lofty swells most giaecfulln _ .vr fearfully improsiuvo is all thi^ ! I recall tho r the I)ii?hop of Nowfoundlaud, nnd n^r^llect tb* of tho llev. Mr. W';k>J, the S'f-ctiM- ,g|. h- „ ' We m^ •'-^'"•i "' '•-••d ta Uu^ i^k^i^-'Mi^ y.€ eIj*? hntf- '*^ take a position .4«y'«"^=--^. ^* ^«*^ tWi-^Ds^^ Cpniii '»..>**• ^,. . • jr^rouninjivjg'^^tijtm; '^'^ ^.f.md ild^ ivlgfr-s oi' ih^ ■ vs'Mftt pact, ftlx/Ui J4iii f-'.'i^-s alxvve fJb« stH|.^ "W-^ ■ -« bollf)v rjuTiing ftli jptmud, into T^'feV^-- -^ •' vsith.,.theiiBtnm;>v, and many flfcni; ;:•. ■tj' ■: W. EXPLOSION AND FALL OF ICE. 173 never forget, nor ever be able to describe. It shook mo through, and struck the very heart. The only response on my part, and I was not alone in the fright, was a convul- sive spring to the feet, and a shout to the oarsmen, of fierce command, " Bow back ! row back ! " The specta- cle was nearly as startling as the explosion. At once, the upper face of the berg burst out upon the air, as if it had been blasted, and swept down across the great cliff, a huge cataract of green and snowy fragments, with a wild, crashing roar, followed by the heavy, sullen thunder of the plunge into the ocean, and the rolling away of tho high-crested seas, and the rocking of the mighty mass back and forth, in the effort to regain its equilibrium. I dreaded the encounter ; but our whale-boat was quite at home, and breasted the lofty swells most gracefully. But how fearfully impressive is all this ! I recall the warning of the Bishop of Newfoundland, and recollect the conversation of the Be v. Mr. Wood, the rector of St. Thomas'. We now pass round to the other side of the berg, and take a position between it and the sun. Upon our first circumnavigation, we found this edge of the ice, in its lowest part, about six feet above the sea, with a caver- nous hollow running all round, into which the waves were playing with their strange and many sounds. Now, from 174 STUDIES OF THE WESTERN SIDE. the recent loss of ice on the opposite heights, all this edge has sunk below the waves, leaving only an inclined plane sweeping up from the water's edge to the steeper parts of the berg, at an angle of about 20 degrees. Fancy a slab of Italian marble, four and five hundred feet in width, extending from the eaves of the City Hall, New York, half-way or more down the park» I think you will have a tolerable notion of the slope now before us. Up this slippery field of ivory hardness roll the waves, dark as night until they strike the ice, when, in a flash, they turn into that lovely green of the sea, and afterward break in long lines of tumultuous foam. The spectacle is perfectly magnificent. A seam of ice, apparently six inches in diameter, of the hue of a sapphire, cuts the berg from its very top down, and doubtless cuts through the entire submarine body. This jewel of the iceberg is a wonderful beauty. Sparkles of light seem to come from its blue, transparent depths. What, at first, appears sin- gular is, that these blue veins are much softer than the surrounding ice, melting faster, and so becoming channels in which little torrents glitter as they run. At first, we were at a loss to know how they originated, but presently felt satisfied, that they were cracks filled with water, and frozen when the berg was a glacier. This indelible mark of primitive breakage and repair indicates with some cor- OUB FLAY WITH THE MOOSE HORNS. 175 rectness the original perpendicular of the ice. According to the blue band in the berg now before us, it is occupy- ing very nearly the position it was in when it was a fissure or crevasse of the glacier. Long processional lines of broken ice are continually floating off from the parent berg, which, in the process of melting, assume many curious shapes, huge antlers of the moose and elk, and sea-fowl, geese and ducks, of gigantic figure. We have just succeeded in securing one of these antlers, and a merry time we had. Before reaching it, we supposed one could bend over and lift it out of the water as easily as he stoops and picks up a buck's horn out of the prairie grass. It was a match for three of us, and escaped out of our hands and arms repeatedly, slipping back into the waves, and requiring us to round to again and again before we fairly had it. As it is the hardest and the heaviest, so it is the most slippery of all ices, and certainly it seems to me the coldest thing upon which human hands were ever laid. Our summer cakes, handed in by the ice-man, are warm, I fancy, in comparison. I do not wonder that the face of icebergs burst off, under the expansion of the heat they receive in these July days. The surface of this horn is not the least curious feature of it : it is melted into circular depressions about the depth and size of a large watch-crystal, all cutting into each other with such 176 6PLEND0B OF THE BEBQ AT SUNSET. regularity that their angles faU into lines parallel and diagonal in the most artistic manner. Now that we have it in the boat, it resembles a pair of mammoth moose- horns sculptured from water-soaked alabaster. We see several of them now, five or six feet tall, rocking and nodding on the swells as if they were the living append- ages of some old moose of the briny deep, come up to sport a little in the world of warmth and sunshine. C finds great difficulty in painting, from the motion of the boat ; but it is the best thing in the ser- vice, after all, for the men can take a position, and keep it by the help of oars, in spite of the waves and currents which beset an iceberg. The moments for which we have been waiting are now passing, and the berg is immersed in almost supernatural splendors. The white alpine peak rises out of a field of delicate purple, fading out on one edge into pale sky-blue. Every instant changes the quality of the colors. They flit from tint to tint, and dissolve into other hues perpetually, and with a rapidity impossible to describe or paint. I am tempted to look over my shoulder into the north, and see if the " merry dancers '* are not coming, so marvellously do the colors come and go. The blue and the purple pass up into peach-blow and pink. Now it blushes in the last look of the sun-red blushes of beauty — tints of the SPLE.NDOB OF THE BEVLQ AT BUM SET. 177 roseate birds of the south — the complexion of the roses of Damascus. In this delicious dye it stands embalmed — only for a minute, though ; for now the softest dove- colors steal into the changing glory, and turn it all into light and shade on the whitest satin. The bright green waves are toiling to was? it whiter, as they roll up from the violet sea, and explode in foam along the broad alabaster. Power and Beauty, hand in hand, bathing the bosom of Purity. I need not pai^so to explain how all this is ; but so it is, and many times more, in the pass- ing away of the sunshine and the daylight. It is wonder- ful ! I had never dreamed of it, even while I have been reading of icebergs well described. As I sit and look at this broken work of the Divine fingers, — only a shred broken from the edge of a glacier, vast as it is — I whisper these words of Bevelation : " and hath washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." It hangs before us, with the sea and the sky behind it, like some great robe made in heaven. Where the flow- ing fblds break into marble-like cliffs, on the extreme wings of the berg, an inward green seems to be pricking through a fine straw tint, spangled with gold. Weary, chilly, and a little sea-sick, I am glad to find the Painter giving the last touches to a sketch, and to hear him give the word for return. The men, who in common with 8* 178 SPLENDOB OV THE BEHO AT SUNSET. all these people of this northern sea have a terror of ice- bergs, gladly lift the sails, and so, with C in Knight at the helm, wo are speeding over the waves for Battle Harbor. CHAPTER XXXVI. EAMBLE AMONG THE FLOWERS OF BATTLE ISLAND.— A VISIT TO THE FISHEBMEN.-WALK AMONG THE HILLS OF CASIBOO. Saturday, July 9. We are abroad again on the rocky hills, fanned with the soft, summer wind, and blessed with the loveliest sunshine. . The mosses sparkle with their sweet-scented blossoms of purple, white, and red, and the wood-thrush is pouring out its plaintive melody over the bleak crags, and the homes of fishermen, around whose doors I see the children playing as merrily as the children of fortune in more favored lands. How many a tender parent, now watching over a sick child in the wealthy city, would be glad to have the sufferer here, to be the playfellow of these simple boys and girls, if ho could have their health and promise of life. Captain Knight comes with his hands full of flowers, not unlike the daisy ; and here come Hutchinson and the Painter. We 180 A VISIT TO TlIU FIbUCliMEN. meet around this moBS-covercd crag where I am sitting with my book and pencil, and resolve at onco to go down, and visit an islet of the harbor, where a few families have a summer. residence during the fishing season. Hero wo are among the huta and dogs, and English people, with the ways of Labrador. A kind woman, with whom I have been talking about the deprivations of her lot in life, has offered to bake bread for us when wo can send the flour. The Painter is out sketching this summer nest upon the bleak, surf-washed rocks, about as wild- looking as the nesting-place of sea-birds. Generous- hearted people 1 I am pleased with their simple ways, and their affectionai , but most respectful manner toward their pastor. Well, indeed, thoy may bo both respectful and affectionate. His life is a sacrifice for them and their children. What but the love of Christ and of men could lead one here, and keep him here, who can ornament and bless the most cultivated society ? I thank God, that He gives us witness, in such men, of the power and excellency of His grace upon the human heart. We sail across the harbor to a cove, or chasm in the lofty sea-wall, with the intention of a walk over the hills of Cariboo, while Hutchinson visits a few of his pa- rishioners thereabouts. After a pleasant ramble, during which we were often WALK AMONG THE UILL8 OF CABIBOO. 181 ' tempted to run and jump with very delight along the spongy, springy moss, blushing here and there with its sweet bloom, we sit down on the top of a high hill, and look off upon the ocean and the bay of St. Louis, extend- ing far into the desolate interior like c series of blue lakes. All the beauteous apparel of summer has been stripped off, and the brown and broken bones of the sad earth are bleaching in the wind and sun. You would bo delighted, though, with the little vales, notched and shelved with craggy terraces that catch and hold the sunshine. They have the sultry warmth and scent of a conservatory, and are frequently rich with herbage, now in flower. It seems a i)ity that these nooks of verdure and floral beauty should thus " waste their sweetness on the desert air." For a few days, the woolly flocks of New England would thrive in Labrador. During those few days, there are thousands of her fair daughters who would love to tend them. I prophesy the time is coming when the invalid and tourist from the States will be often found spending the brief, but lovely summer here, notwithstanding its rug- gedness and desolation. Upon reflection, a broad and an- cient solitude like this has a sadness in it which no bloom, no sun can dispel. Never, never, in all my life, have I behek' a land like this, the expression and sentiment of which are essentially mournful and melancholy. The 18^ WALK AMONG THE HILLS OF CARIBOO. sunshine, skies, ^'the pomp and circumstance of" ocean, sweet smells, and sounds, and one's own joyous, healthy- feelings, flowing out and washing out as they flow the nat- ural sadness of the soul, cannot take away nor cover up that which really and everlastingly is, and ever will be, namely, the sentiment of mournfulness. Nature here is at a funeral forever, and these beauties, so delicately fashioned, are but flowers in the coffin. It is a coincidence a little curious that I should havo written these periods above, and then have plunged into just the most lonesome little valley in all the world to hit upon a graveyard. But there it was, a gloomy, silent field, enclosed with the merest dry skeleton of a fence, for no purpose to keep a creature out where no creature is, but just to make a scratch around the few narrow beds where the dead repose, unpraised and unnamed, under the lightest possible covering of dust, as undisturbed as in the deeps of the Atlantic. From the tombless ceme- tery, our way back to the vessel over the hills resembled the crossing of mountains just below the line of perpetual snow. Upon the summit we encountered a small lake and marshes with water-plants and flowers. At the east- ern extremity of the island, where the rocks break off steeply some hundreds of feet, we saw every object of the port nearly beneath, and apparently within stone's throw. WALK AMONG THE HILLS OF CABIBOO. 183 A novel sight to us was the bottom of the harbor, seen through the clear, greenish water with considerable dis- tinctness almost from end to end. Patches of sea-weed, dark rocks, and white gravel, seemed to be lying in the bottom of a shallow mirror, across which small fishes, large ones in reality, were wandering at their leisure. This was a picturesque revelation. Upon the surface of the harbor, the depth of water very nearly shuts out all view of the bottom. I am beginning to think that a few thousand feet above the ocean, in a bright day, would enable the eye to pierce it to an extraordinary depth. CHAPTER XXXVII. AFTER THE BAY ST. LOUIS ICEBERG.— WINDSOR CASTLE ICEBERG.- FOUNDERS SUDDENLY.— A BRILLIANT SPECTACLE. w After dinner, upon the heights of Battle Island, gathering roots, plants, and mosses to carry homo. Wo notice with pleasure the largest iceherg by far that wo have ever yet seen. It is the last arrival from Green- land, and is abreast Gape St. Louis, in the northeast. It is a stupendous thing, and reminds me of Windsor Castle, as I know it from pictures and engravings. It appears to bo wheeling in toward the bay, with a front of great elevation and extent, finely adorned with projec- tions and massive towers not unlike those of the regal structure of which it reminds me. I see by the watch it is nearly 4 p. m., the time set for our de- parture to a Bay St. Louis berg. Pencil and note-book AFTEB THE BAY ST. LOUIS ICEBEBO. 185 l\ must be pocketed, and haste bo made with my vegetable gatherings. Pencil and note-book reappear, and the sketch recom- mences. Half-way to the chosen iceberg, in the mouth of the bay, rowing slowly over the glassy, low swells, as they move in from sea. These are the swells for me : broad, imperial swells, full of majesty, dignity, and grace ; placid and serene of countenance ; solemn, slow, and si- lent in their roll. They are the swells of olden time, royal and aristocratic, legitimately descended from those that bore the ark upon their bosom, and used to bear the unbroken images of the orbs of heaven. Keplete with gentleness and love and power, they lift us lightly, and pass us over tenderly from hand to hand, and toss us pleasantly and softly from breast to breast, and roll us carefully from lap to lap, and smile upon us with their shining smiles. Grand and gracious seas ! With you I love the ocean. With you I am not afraid. And with you, how kind and compassionate of you, ye old patrician billows ! with you I am not sea-sick. Save us from those plebeian waves, that rabble- rout of surges, that democratic " lop,'' lately born, and puffed into noisy importance ! They scare me, and, worst of all, make me sick and miserable. Every few minutes we hear the artillery of the ice- 186 WINDSOIl CASTLE ICEBERG. — FOUiJDEES. bergs, and are on the watch for fine displays, this warm afternoon. C is sketching hastily, with the pencil, Windsor Castle berg, now in complete view, and distant, I should guess, five miles. It is a mighty and imposing structure. Between making my last dot and now — an interval of ten minutes — Windsor Castle has experienced the convulsions of an earthquake, and gone to ruin. To use the term common here, it has " foundered." A maga- zine of powder fired in its centre, could not more effectually, and not much more quickly, have blown it up. While in the act of sketching, C suddenly ex- claimed : when, lo ! walls and towers were falling asunder, and tumbling at various angles with apparent silence into the ocean, attended with the most prodigious dashing and commotion of water. Enormous sheaves of foam sprung aloft and burst in air ; high, green waves, crested with white-caps, rolled away in circles, mingling with leaping shafts and fragments of ice reappearing from the deep in all directions. Nearly the whole of this brilliant spectacle was the performance of a minute, and to us as noiseless as the motions of a cloud, for a length of time I had not expected. When the uproar reached us, it was thunder doubled and redoubled, roll- ing upon the ear like the quick successive strokes of a c w ■ A BRILLIANT SPECTACLE. 187 drum, or volleys of the largest ordnance. It was awfully grand, and altogether the most startling exhibition I ever witnessed. At this moment, there is a large field of ruins, some of them huge masses like towers prone along the waters, with a lofty steeple left alone standing in the midst, and rocking slowly to and fro. CHAPTER XXXVIII. SUNDAY IN LABEADOE.— EVENING WALK TO THE GUAVEYAED.-TIIE EOCKY OCEAN 8II0EE. Sunday evening, July 10. We have had a beau- tiful and interesting day. Early in the morning, flags were flying from the shipping, and from the tall staff in front of the church, the only hell-tower of the town. Boats, with people in their Sunday best, soon came row- ing in from different quarters, for the services of the day, in which I had the pleasure of assisting. The house, seating about two hundred people, was crowded, morning and afternoon, with a devout and attentive congregation, responding loudly, and singing very spiritedly. Before sunset, we left the parsonage for a quiet walk. Falling into a crooked path, we followed it to the burying-ground in the bottom of a narrow, deep hollow, where time has gathered from the surrounding EVENING WALK TO THE GRAVEYARD. 189 quiet I it to , ! , deep * inding * rocks a depth of earth sufficient for shallow graves. While yet the sunshine was bright upon the high, over- hanging cliflfs, dotted with lichens and tufted with their summer greenery, the little vale below, with its brown gravestones nearly lost in the rank verdure, was im- mersed in cool and lonesome shadows. An unavoid- able incumbrance of the sacred field was several large bowlders, among which the long grass, and weeds and tablets were irregularly dispersed. It is the custom of the English church to consecrate burying-grounds. Eleven years ago. Bishop Field conse- crated this. It was a pleasant Sunday morning, and the procession, with the bishop at its head clothed in his offi- cial robes, descended by the winding path, and performed the appointed service. Nearly the whole population of the region was present, either in the procession, or look- ing down with silent admiration from the rocky galleries around. A better resting-place, when one lies down weary from the tasks and troubles of the present life, could not well be imagined. Its perpetual solitude, never profaned by the noisy feet of the busy world, draped alternately with snowy fleeces and blooming verdure, is always made musical by the solemn mur- murs of the ocean. I found by the inscriptions, that England was the native country of most of those whoso 190 THE BOCET OCEAN SHORE. bones repose below, and whose names are gathering moss and lichens, while the sea, close by, sings their moumM requiem. From this lone hamlet of the dead, we picked our way among broken rocks out to the sea shore, all white with the sounding surf, and gazed with silent pleasure on the blue Atlantic, the dark headlands, and the ice- bergs glittering in the sunset. Glittering in the sunset ! They glowed with golden fire — pointed, motionless, and solid flames. Battle Island, had there never been any bloody con- test of angry men, would be an appropriate name. The whole northeastern shore, once a lofty precipice, no doubt, but now a descent of indescribable ruggedness, is an extended field, whereon for ages flinty rocks and mighty waves have contended in battle. A favorite walk of Hutchinson's, during the wintry tempests, is along the height overlooking this mighty slope or glacis. His quiet description of the terrible grandeur of the scene, was truly thrilling. In the course of our walk, we came upon the verge of a fissure, which looked like an original intention to split the island through its centre. Banks of snow still lay in the nooks and closets of its gloomy chambers, through which, every now and then, boomed the low thunder of the plunging surf THE BOCKT OCEAN BHOBE. 191 Upon our return, late in the evening, although quite light, we wandered over tracts of the elastic, flowering moss. The step is rendered exceedingly houyant, and invites you to skip and hound through the richly car- peted hollows. After prayer at the parsonage, we returned to the vessel, and talked in our berths until slumber made us silent, past midnight. CHAPTKR XXXIX. r TTIE SAIL TO FOX HARBOR.— A DAY WITH THE ESQUIMAUX, AND OUR RETURN. Monday, July 11. After icebergs in St. Michael's Bay, was to have been the order of the morning. It lies northward forty miles, and usually abounds in icebergs of the largest size, Mr. Hutchinson informs us. There is not, however, the least necessity for passing Cape St. Louis, south of which there is ico enough in sight for all the painters in the world. But the charm of novelty is almost irresistible. Had wo the time, we would see the glaciers themselves, of which these bergs are merely the ehippings. "What has suddenly caused this change in our plans is an approaching storm. It will never do for us to be out at sea in a cold northeaster, if it possibly can bo avoided. The painter and I are so given over to sea- sickness, in rough weather, that nothing can be enjoyed, THE HAIL TO FOX IIAIlUOlt. li)3 and nothing done with pen or pencil. The work and play of the day are finally determined. C with the Captain will cruise southerly among the bergs of BoDo Isle, and I will go with Mr. Hutchinson and Botwood north, across St. Louis water to Fox Harbor, one of the points of this extended parish. We leave, past noon a little, sailing very pleasantly by the ices, which appear to bo in considerable motion. Several are going to sea, and may reach the track of New Yorkers voyaging to Europe, and bo thought very won- derful and fine ; and so indeed they will be, should they lose half of their present bulk. There appears to be no end to the combinations of these icy edifices. They mimic all the styles of architecture upon earth ; rather, all styles of architecture may be said to imitate them, inasmuch as they were floating here in what we please to call Greek and Gothic forms long before Greek or Goth were in existence. Yonder, now, is a cluster of Gothic cottages. I trace out a multitude of peaked gables and low porches, and think of Sunny Side upon the Hudson. Two hours have slipped away, and we approach the northern shore, attended by no less a travelling com- panion than a small whale. Now ho blows just behind us, disappears, and blows again upon our right. Thcro he blows ahead of us. Here he is close upon our left. 9 194 A DAY WITH TUE EHQUIMAUX. Tho fellow is diving under us. All this naay bo very pretty sport for tho whale, but with all tho merry re- marks of Hutchinson, respecting tho good nature of our twenty-foot out-rider, I confess I am relieved to find that ho is gradually enlarging the field of his amusements. The mouth of Fox Harbor all at onco discovers itself, and lets us in upon a small sheet of water, not unlike a mountain lake with its back-ground of black, wild hills. A few huts, a wharf, and fish-house appear upon tho margin of tho narrow peninsula that lies between tho harbor and the bay. The people are pure Esquimaux and English, with a mixture from intermarriage. Tho patriarch of the place, perhaps sixty years of age, with his wife, and, I believe, tho elder members of the family, are natives of a high latitude, and a good specimen of the arctic race. They are now members of the English Church, and for piety and virtue c^^ipare well with Christians anywhere. In the course of the afternoon, their pastor held divir.c service, and administered the sacrament of bap- tism. There were between twenty and thirty present, old and young, some of whom had prayer-books and responded. The sermon, which I was invited to preach, I made as simple and practical as possible, and found earnest and honest listeners. After an examination of OUB RETURN. 195 furs and snow-shoes, reindeer horns, and seal-skin, frctih from the seal, and still loaded with its fat or blubber, wo had an exhibition of the kayak. It was light and tight, and ringy as a drum, and floated on the water like a bubble. Under the strokes of the kayaker, it darted for- ward over the low r wells with a grace and fleetness un- known to the birch bark canoe. After tea, and a very good tea, too ; in fact, after two teas, we bade the Esquimaux farewell and sailed away, taking one of their number along with us, who had formerly been a servant, and was now to resume her old place as such, in the parsonage. About half way across the bay, a squall from sea struck us with startling suddenness. But our bold young sailing-master, Mc Donald, the mate and owner of our vessel, managed the boat admirably, and we fairly flew through the white-caps to the smooth water of our harbor. In the evening we gathered in at the parsonage, taking tea, made and served by the Esquimaux woman, telling the adventures of the day, both north and south, and returning at midnight to our cabin. rH- i - CHAPTER XL. A MOENING RAMBLE OVER CARIBOO.— EXCURSION ON THE BAT, AND THE TEA-DRINKING AT THE SOLITARY FISHERMAN'S. gl 'i Tuesday, July 12. Cold as November, and a galo outside. After a late breakfast, we roam the hills of Cariboo, under the cliffs of which the Integrity now lies tied to the rocks. Wo gather roots and flowers, gaze upon the vast and desolate prospect, count the icebergs, and watch the motions of the fog driving, in large, cloud-like masses, across the angry ocean. It is surprising how much we do in these, to us, almost inter- minable days. But for the necessity f it, I believe that we should not sleep at all, but work and play right on from midnight into morning, and from morning down to midnight. We have a large afternoon excursion before us. Previous to that, however, the Captain and myself are going upon an exploring expedition. EXCUHSION ON THE BAY. 197 Coasting the southern shores of St. Louis water, having a little private amusement by ourselves. The breeze, in from sea, gives us about as much as wo can manage. Gives us about as much as ive can manage ! " Us " and " We " have not a great deal to do with it. This half of the "us" and the "we," the Me and the subjective I, as your Kantian philosopher calls his essen- tial self, sits here about midship, bear-skinned in with a fleecy brown coat, holding on, and dodging the spray that cuffs him on the right and left ; while the other, and vastly larger half, in the shape of the captain, holds all the reins of this marine chariot in his own single hand — ropes, rudder and all, and holds them, too, well and wisely. But we enjoy the freei^om of these spirited, though harmless 3eas, and dash along through most charmingly. "What coasts these are ! " Precipitous, black, jagged rocks," savage as lions and tigers showing their claws and teeth, and foaming at the lips. Here is a chasm called a cove, up which the green water runs in the shape of a scimetar or horn — the piercing and the goring of the sea for unknown centuries. Away in the extreme hollow of this horn is a fishing-flake, and half-way up, where the eea-birds would naturally nest, a Scotch fisher- man has his summer-home. We are going in to see liim. 198 THE FISHERMAN. ■ He met us at the water's edge, and welcomed us with a fisherman's welcome — none heartier in the world — and sent us forward by a zigzag path to the house hidden away among the upper rocks. In the very tightest place of the ascent, there swept down upon us an avalanche of dogs furiously barking — a kind of onset for which I have had a peculiar disrelish ever since I was overthrown by a ferocious mastiff in my childhood. I sprang to the tip of a crag, and stood out of their reach, while they bristled and barked at the Captain, who coolly main- tained his ground. The shout of the fisherman's wife, who now appeared on the edge of the scene above, in- stantly stilled the uproar^ and invited us up with the cheering assurance that they eeldom bit anybody, and were rather glad than angry that we had come. The language of dogs being very much the same in all countries, I took occasion to doubt any pleasure that Bull, Brindle, and Bowse were thought to have felt at our presence. The rascals- smelt closely at my heels and hands, with an accompaniment of bristling backs and tails, and deep-throated growls. We were no sooner in the house and seated than the goodman him- self arrived, and ordered the kettle to the fire for a " bit of tea." " It would do us good," he said. " When strangers came, he commonly had a bit of tea." His THE FISHERMAN. 199 life had been a struggle for food and raiment : sucli was the tenor of his brief history. Four children were with him ; four were in a better world. Forty years he had been a fisherman. Thirty, on these shores. They came up yearly from Carbonear in the early days of June, cleared the house of ice and snow, and got ready for the fish. Their dogs, which are their only team in New- foundland, would be lost if left behind, and so they brought them along to save them. After tea, a fine game-cock took possession of the floor, walking close in front, looking up sideways in an inquisitive and comical manner, and crowing very spiritedly. Hard by, in a box beneath a bed, I caught a glimpse of the red comb of a hen, his only mate. A little, flaxen-haired, blue-eyed girl ran and brought her out as somethiTrg to surprise and delight us. And so with cock and hen, and chil- dren, the fisherman and his wife, mariner and minister, we were a social party. Thus the human heart spins out its threads of love, and fastens them even to the far-distant rocks of cold and barren Labrador. They took us through their fish-house, which hung like a birdcage among the crags, and afterwards followed us down to the water, and gave our bark a kindly push," and thus we parted." CHAPTER XLI. PAINTING THE CAVEKN OF GKEAT ISLAND, AND OUR SAIL HOME- WARD IN A GALE. Two o'clock P. M. The wind has moderated, and blows from the land. We sail out upon the eastern or ocean side of Great Island. This is not precisely the ex- cursion proposed in the morning, which was to an iceberg in the bay. It is the best, though, that we can do, and may turn out very well. I could wish a less exciting passage in than we had out, when, for the first, I learned the power of wind to knock a vessel over at a single blow. It pounced upon us, as it swept over the lofty ridge of the island, in puffs and gusts quite frightful. At one mo- ment, the sails would be without a breath ; at another, the wonder is that they were not burst from their fasten- ings. As the Captain turned into the wind, the boat would jump as if going out of the water. Some training PAINTING THE CAVERN OF GREAT ISLAND. 201 is necessary for your landsman to bear this with perfect coolness. After landing us, the Captain, with a couple of men, plays off and on between a fishing-fleet and shore, while C paints the particular part of the coast for which we have come. It consists of what once might have been a grand cav- ern, but now fallen in, and all its cragged gulf opened to the day. Into the yawning portal of this savage chasm plunge the big waves of the Atlantic. In an easterly gale, there is performed in this gloomy theatre no farce of the surges, but the grandest tragedy. In fact, this whole coast, a thousand miles or more, is built up, rather torn down, on the most stupendous scale — vast and shat- tered — terrifically rough — tumult and storm all in horrid stone, it would well pay the painter of coast scenery to spend a fall and winter upon these shores. The breaking of the waves upon such rocks as these must be an aston- ishing spectacle of power and fury. The charge and the retreat of billows upon slopes of rock so torn and shat- tered, for miles and miles at the same moment, Mr. Hutchinson repeatedly declares, is one of the most bril- liant and imposing sights on earth. While C is painting, I have been writing these periods, and clamber- ing the mossy cliffs for plants and flowers. Half-past 7, and Captain Knight below, waiting for us near the mouth 9* 202 OUR SAIL HOMEWARD IN A GALE. of tho chasm. The fishing-fleet is dispersing, homeward- bound, and we are now ready to put up paint and pencil, and join in the general run. There is nothing like a dash of peril to wake one up. Now that I am quietly sitting by the cabin candles, I will sketch you our passage in. These notes are usually taken on tho spot ; upon the occasion of which I am at present speaking, my note-book was buttoned in pretty tightly in its pocket. It was blowing a gale, but, fortunately for us, from the land. In from sea, the same wind would have driven all into the surf. Close-reefed as we were, and under the island, with a capital craft, and Captain Knight, tho very best of sailors, it was quite enough for us. Wo were almost over at times. The sharp, short seas thumped our bows like sledge-hammers. The spray flashed across like water from an engine. There were the hum and trembling of a swiftly revolving wheel. When she came into the wind for a tack, all shook and cracked again, and then sang on shrill and wildly as shuttle-like we shot to the next point of turning. A few small islands make a net-work of channels. Through this entanglement wo and the fishing-fleet were now making our way home, crossing and recrossing, shooting here and there, singly and in pairs, with sails black, white, and red — a lively and OUR SAIL IlOMEWAllD IN A GALE. 203 picturesque sight, and just the prettiest play in all the world. In a narrow strait leading into the harbor, wo were nearly baffled. The tempest, for to such it had in- creased, at some moments, seemed to fall upon us from above, flattening the swells, and sweeping the spray about as a whirlwind sweeps the dust. Back and forth we dart- ed between the iron shores, wheeling in the nick of time, and losing nearly as often as wo gained. C and I lay close below the booms, and watched the strife as ono might watch a battle round the corner of a wall. Wrap- ped in heavy overcoats, and wet and chilly, we came, not- withstanding, to enjoy it vastly. C fairly overflowed with fun and humor. But what admirable sailors arc these northern seamen, in their schooner whaleboats I the very Tartars and Camanches of the ocean ! They go off to the fishing-grounds in stormy weather, and stay with unconquerable patience at their hard and dangerous labor. Under the cliffs of Cariboo we glided into calm water, and looked back at the dark and troubled deep, in broad contrast wHh the clouds and icebergs resplendent with rosy sunlight. I CIIArTER XLII. AFTER THE ICKnEUO OP IIKLLK ISLK— THE RETREAT TO OART- WIUGHT'S TICKLE.— imi 1)0 ET KENNEDY'S COTTAOE, AND TllliS LONELY STROLL OVER CARIBOO. Wednesday, Juhj 13. Wo riso with tlio inten- tion of spending the day in Belle Isle water to the south, around what wo call the Great Castle Berg — an ohjcct, from the first, of our particular regard. The breeze freshens from the north, hut the Captain tliinks we may lie safely to the leeward of the ice, and so sketch and write. Battle Harbor has a narrow and shallow pas- sage into the south water. We have slipped through that, and are now scudding before a pleasant north- easter, directly toward the castle, and the northern capo of Bell Isle. We arc having a long ground-swell, rough- ened with a "lop" or short sea, and the promise of high wind. The fishing boats, more out to sea, are put- ting in — a signal for our retreat. We confess ourselves beaten for the day, and run for Cartwright's Tickle, a TUE IIETIIEAT TO CAllTWiaUIlT B TICKLE. 205 Binall inlot, a mile or bo distant. And a merry run of it • wo aro having ; a kind of cxperionco to which wo wore put yesterday afccmoon. Wet with spray, and chilly, wo aro glad to jump ashore at Mrs. Bridget Kennedy's fishing-flake. Kind woman, sho was on the spot to ask us up "to warm, and take a drop of tea," although no later "^ than 10 o'clock. Mrs. Kennedy, a smati -Irish widow of Newfoundland, is " the fisherman : " and 'has men and maidens in her employ. While the tea was really refreshing, and tho fire acceptable, the smoko was ter- rible — a circumstance over which I wept bitterly, wiping away tho tears with one hand, while I plied the hot drink wiili tho other. From this painfully affecting sceno I was presently fain to retire to a sunny slope near by, where I was soon joined by my companion in suffering, who indulged himself, perhaps too freely, in remarks that reflected no great credit on the architect and builder of Mrs. Kennedy's summer-hcuse and chim- ney. I cannot say that we wasted, but we whiled away, not ovorwillingly, the best part of two hours, looking around — ^looking across a bight of water, at a nest of flakes and huts on the hill-side, to which Swiss cottages are tame — looking over upon the good woman's garden, the merest spot of black, in which there is nothing but 206 BBIDa£T KENNEDY'S COTTAGE. i soil slightly freckled with vegetation, fenced in with old fish-net to keep out the fowls, and a couple of goats — looking at the astonishment of our sailors over a syphon, made from the pliant, hollow stalk of a sea-weed, through which water flowed from the surface of the sea into a hasin placed upon the beach ; quite a magical per- formance they fancied it, until explained. Tired of waiting for the wind to lull sufficiently for an escape back by sea, I resolved to foot it over the hills to Battle Harbor, and have come off alone. I am sit- ting on the moss, out of the breeze, on the warm side of a crag, " basking in the noontide sun ; disporting here like any other fly/' A part of the aforesaid amusement consists in scribbling these notes, and especially the ones relating our enjoyments and trials at hospitable Bridget Kennedy's. From the hill-top above me I had a wide prospect of the dark, rough ocean ; and of darker and rougher land. Looking westerly, what should I discover but the painter, silent and motionless, looking out from another hill-top ? Beyond him, far inland, is a chain of purple mountains, lording it over the surrounding tumult of brown and sterile hills, in the mossy valleys of which, they say, are dwarf woods of birch and spruce, pretty brooks, and reaches of blue sea- water. TU£ LONELY STROLL OVER CARIBOO. 207 I have turned my walk back to the vessel, into a regular holiday stroll, jotting down from time to time whatever happens to please me. These deep amphi- theatres opening out of the hills to the sea, are quite charming, and novelties in landscape. And how almost painfully still they are ! But for the dull roar of the surf, they would he silent as paintings. The cloudless sun, pouring its July brightness into them, gives them a hot-house sultriness ; and, in their moist places, almost a hot-house growth. The universal moss, the turf of the country, carpets their depths and graceful slopes, and lies upon their shelves like the richest rugs ; bright red, green, and yellow, and sprinkled with small, sweet- smelling flowers. Along the margin of the sea all is cracked and slashed, and has no pretty beach. Here now is a fast little brook, eagerly driving its spirited steed down one of these rocky cuts. Pleased with its speed, it hurras and cracks its whip, and swings its white-plumed cap, all in its way, as if rivers were look- ing on, and cataracts were listening with delight. Silly rivulet ! it sounds like water in a mill-wheel, and will in a moment more be lost in the great deep. Here again, a few steps higher up the vale, the rill expands into a pool, daintily cushioned round its edges. I he down and drink j kneel down and wash my hands ; wash my 208 TUB LONELY BTROLL OVEll CAUIBOO. handkerchief and spread it in the sun to dry. Poor littlo fishes 1 They dart and dodge about, as if they had never felt before the look of a human face. Over there is a bed of grass, luxuriant as grain, with a sprinkling of those cotton-tufted rushes. And I sing, as I sang in my boy- hood : ^ " Green grow the rushes, 1 'Tis neither you nor I do know, How oats, peas, beans, and barley grow." After this lyrical feat, I straighten up, and look all around, to see if any one hears me, but only catch a glimpse of a tiny waterfall ; a little virgin oU in white, spinning her silvery thread, as she looks out of her cham- ber window among the rocks above. For all the world 1 Hero comes a fly — one of our own house flies— the same careless, familiar fellow, whoso motto is : " The dwelling owes me a living." Now what do you expect, you self- complacent little vagabond, standing here on my hand, and rubbing your head at this rate, looking me in the face, with all the thousand eyes you have, and none of the modesty of bugs finely dressed, and vastly your supe- rior ? I do suppose myself the first Yankee here, and here you are. Away with you ! I have a mind to run up yonder soft and sunny hill-side, and roll over and over to the bottom. I did run up the hill-side, but not to roll TUE LONELY fiXBOLL OVEIi CARIBOO. 209 back to tho foot of it, on this most springy of all turfs. I sat down and panted, wiping the moisture from my forehead, and breathing the cool ocean breeze. A half hour's walk brought me over to the brow of the moun- tain, with the harbor and its vessels at my feet. CHAPTEK XLIII. THE ICEBEEG OF THE FIGURE-nEAD.— THE GLOEY AND THE MUSI^ or THE SEA AT EVENING. Late in tlie afternoon, and the breeze gone down. We are off on the gentle rollers of the Bay of St. Louip, after a low, broad iceberg, covering, say, an acre of sur- face, and grounded in forty fathoms of water. It has upon one extremity a bulky tower of sixty feet, on the other, forty, and in the middle a huge pile of ice blocks of all shapes and sizes, the ruins of some spire. While the outside of this heap of fragments is white, with tints of green, touched here and there with what seems to be the most delicate bronze and gilding ; every crevice, where there is a shadow lurking, is a blue, the purity and softness of which cannot be described nor easily imagined. To one who has any feeling for color, it has a sentiment as sweet as any thing in all visible nature. A pure, white surface, like this fine opaque ice, seen through \ THE ICEBERG OF THE FiaURE-HEAD. 211 HE MUSI^ deep shade produces blue, and such a blue as one sees in the stainless sky when it is full of warmth and light. It is quite beyond the rarest ultramarine of the painter. The lovely azure appears to pervade and fill the hollows like so much visible atmosphere or smoke. One almost looks to see it float out of the crystal cells where it re- poses, and thin away into colorless air. We have just been honored by a royal salute from the walls of the alabaster fortress. Our kind angels will keep us at a safer distance than we are disposed to keep ourselves. A projecting table has fallen with that pecu- liarly startling crack, quick as lightning and loud as thunder. It seems impossible for my nerves to become accustomed to the shock. I tremble, in spite of myself, as one does after a fright. The explosion unquestionably has the voice of the earthquake and volcano. To my surprise, I find myself with cold feet and headache — those unfailing symptoms of sea-sickness. By the painful ex- pression of his face, I suspect the painter is even worse off t!ian myself. It is impossible to avoid feeling both vexed and amutied at this companionship in misery. In his case, the climax has been attained. Laying down hex and brushes with uncommon emphasis, he made a rapid movement to the edge of the boat, and looked over at his own image reflected in the glassy, oily-rolling 212 GLORY AND MUSIC OF THE SEA AT EVENING. swell, with loud and violent demonstrations of disagree- ment with himself. After this unhappy outbreak, he wiped away the tears, and returned subdued and com- posed to the gentler employment of the paint-box. It is nearly nine o'clock in the evening, with the downiest clouds dropped around the retiring sun. What light must be behind them to fill them with such wealth of color, and dye their front with such rich and varied red I The very waves below bloom with a crimson splendor. C has finished his pictures, and we row aroaad the berg, a singularly irregular one, both above and below the surface. The surrounding water, to the eye nearly black, is irradiated, star-like, "v/ith tracts of the clear, tender green. The effect upon us is inde- scribably fine. I think of deep down caverns of light shining up through the dark sea. The blocks and bowl- ders, wrecks of former towers, which lie scattered and in heaps upon the main berg, are like the purest alabaster on their outer and upper sides, but of that heavenly azure in their fissures and spaces, although wrapped in the one great shade of evening. We now pause at the comer of the ice, and look down both its northern and western fronts ; the upper stories, to all appearance, in rough marble — the lower, polished as a mirror. Almost over us, a Greek-like figure-head, sculptured from shin- GLORY AND MUSIC OP THE SEA AT EVENING. 213 ing crystal, gazes "with serene majesty upon the white daylight in the northwest. Possessed with the mournful and nearly supernatural beauty, wo forget the dangers of this intimacy. There is a strange fascination, and par- ticularly at this hour, that draws like the fabulous music of the Sirens. "We are headed homeward, riding silently over the glassy waves. The surf rings in the hollows of the iceberg, and sounds upon the shores like the last blows of the weary day. CHAPTER XLIV. it , CAPE ST. CnAELES.— THE KIP VAN WINKLE BERG.— THE GEEAT CASTLE BERG.— STUDIES OF ITS DIFFERENT FRONTS. Thursday, Juhj 14. Off again for the Great Castle Berg. The passage from Battle Harbor into the south waters is a shallow, rocky lane, and furnishes very rare studies of color in stone. A large agate cut across would serve the painter very well as a sample of much that is seen here along the rough margin of this little strait. Wave-washed, and sparkling with mica and crystalliza- tions, and tinged with green and yellow mosses soft as plush, the rocks are frequently very beautiful. Foremost along the coast, reaching southwest into the straits of Belle Isle, is Cape St. Charles, a brown promontory, rising, as it recedes from the sea, into rocky hills tinged with a pale green, the moss-pastures of the reindeer. Beyond the capo is a bay '» 'ith mountain shores, not unlike those of Lake George. The fine smoke-like shadow along their :e geeat TS. r t i tt Castle tie south ?^ery rare 88 would h that is ie strait, '■stalliza- soft as i'oremost traits of Y, rising, i with a I'^ond the those of ng their p <^' m / ! • aLV. CAVE ST. cnr.vin.ES.— Tiiu luv \xh wenkle n.Euc;,— the okf-at OASTLi: BEllCi.— STUDIES OF ITS DIFFERENT FRONTS. Thuk8t>ay, Ju^i/ 14. Oir again lor the Great Castle nor:/ Tlia j:ij.t.;y%gu from BaUlo- Harbor into tho ^outli ^- ■ ■: ■ . ■ 'I •■■ >• kj kmif.^ r*Tid furiijjha*, vgdy rave -■■■- .■' ':-' ■ ■ • -■ ta* J^aw»«8i woitid ;• ;.' . ' -'i'/txm.y r,'.- ,:■'. K, /Miiimili? ^' -aM:ieii thift iH • . . :■ ■: tTSSi^^^k of tljm little strait. ■% witli mm^ mid crystalliza- ' .. , i ke-like sluadow alon*? tiieir liOiiN, and tiny ■; •. i'elle Isle, J3 Car M it recedes ikim pale green, the mo-: ' n 'bay broken cliffs. They resemble the hiUs of Maine and Canada after April thaws, while the heavier snow-drifts yet re- main^ and the yellow brown sod is patched with faint green. Forsaken country ! if that can be called forsaken which appears never to havo been possessed. Doleful and neglected land ! Chilly ?;o5J( ide keeps watch over your unvisited fields, and frightens away the glory of the fruit- ful seasons. The loving sunshine and the healing warmth wander hand in hand tenderly abroad, calling upon the lowly moss to wake up and blossom, and to the tiny, half-smotheredj flattened willows to rise and walk along the brook banks. But the white-coated police of winter, the grim snow-drifts, watch on the craggy battlements of desolation, nnd luxuriance and life peep from their dark 'ells only to sink back pale and spiritless. To a SIW^'V r*'.^ LABRADOR LANDSCAPES. 239 traveller there is real beauty on the tawny desert aud the wild prairie ; but there is to me an awful lonesomeness and gloom in these houseless wastes where the eye with an insane perverseness will keep looking for cottage smokes and pasture fences. I think of landscapes drying off after the flood. The bergs are in part behind us, and we are rocking on the easy swells of Henly Harbor, where we can glean no more signs of human " toil and trouble " than are just enough to tie a name to, and quite a pretty name too. The lazy sails flap idly in the sunshine, and the cold air cuts with the sharpness of a frosty October morning. I sit in the July heat with overcoat, and cloak over the over- coat, woollen mittens and woollen stockings, and with cold feet at that. And yet this miserable shore has, in its cod and salmon, attractions for thousands of people during the transient summer. Even the long and almost arctic winter with its seals and foxes detains hundreds. But, as a fisherman told me one day, while tossing upon the dock with his pitchfork a boat-load of cod, " It is a poor trade." It is a little trying to patience to be rolling in this idle way, with the creak of spars and the rattling of blocks and rigging, especially as a, breeze has been winging the blue water for an hour not more than a mile ahead of us. We do move a little, just a 1 .ttle, enough ^w\ 240 THE WRECK OF THE FIPHERMEN. to keep the hope breathing that we shall soon move off with reasonable speed. The current is almost a river stream, and we are drift- ing rapidly, which is not a pleasant thing to be thinking about, with these waters scouring the very banks, and a short cable. I am gazing back upon the southern point of Belle Isle with a mournful interest. It was only the night of the second, the same night we ran into Twillin- gate to escape a gale, that a vessel was lost there, and all, or nearly all, on board perished. At this moment there is a faint line of white, but not a murmur. All looks quiet there and peaceful^ as if the lion was going up to lie down with the lamb. move off 3 are drift- e tliiiiking nks, and a hern point IS only the to Twillin- re, and all, ment there All looks 5oing lip to f r :'>?^' S ',] • ■"^Ij'.yiH mmmm o- 5 I I •8 1 CO U] M Hi O W tn J H !2i 1— < e) ih a; w ift^' w w t/i u ? I •a Bi' w Hi m O Eh CHAPTER Xh'lU KCToniN'a 'iiiii imbsim; Ki::K0f«.-r*4v »roj:v of an TCJEBrim,. The paintc: is a luodtd of iudusti-y, sketch'mpj and r-'ti'^tijig t'lO bergfc m we pass th^vM Tir.sv are vow <.'iu.s- •..tJk-.-U on tivu iJortlMiu huUiiuu, -viiU ii u'vv- t....eg;'pti<»j>.!:. W*'' l;.iye botm lor ;scine time n\;ar one, out o^ which •iig-i^t be cufc an entire. block of Broadway ' aiildinjo^s, cvi- de7!)']y r'-esonting tiio s.M,me v.];p ■ e^rfof*'- thvit ;L had wii<7i iJ siid as a glacier livin iua pkMii' yiv.;ro» It* such is tM iaof, we infer tlmt in m ling j^Jucial ox7iertorif:e it <^«>t^,i not have rorriained lottir nejiv auv mass of oar^h highm- than Itiiclf, ioy ther<- ib not a stono or |;a'iiiJ * •■' dust dr e;-t.rthy stain upon it. It in as spolloBs .13 a v.*.^*.-) ''ax^ei- *li« tetnpr>f;t " How beautiful m the frentiiaez. .; lof it' l'> wiJaosf '0 irnnwiUition awpy I0 thov' l-soav ,' vva:!:'i << '.punod in licvelation, and gen:!© ir, Ijuci.. iip<«"» *rack <>f its own fltory. I' tfAj s *W' \^ 'SM'^^i,. '!■• ■{... ■ I' :■ |.b CHAPTER XLVIII. m:. P? ™v pi: 8KETCIIIN0 THE PASSING BERGS.— TIIK STORY OF AN ICE3ER0. The painter is a model of industry, sketching and painting tlie bergs as we pass them. They are now clus- tered on the northern horizon, with a few exceptions. We have been for some time near one, out of which might be cut an entire .block of Broadway buildings, evi- dently presenting the same upper surface that it had when it slid as a glacier from the polar shore. If such is the fact, we infer that in its long glacial experience it could not have remained long near any mass of earth higher than itself, for there is not a stone or particle of dust or earthy stain upon it. It is as spotless as a cloud " after the tempest.*' How beautiful is the sentiment of it ! It carries the imagination away to those heavenly walls depicted in Revelation, and sends it back upon the track of its own story. 11 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) f/^i/7^ <. ^^.M 1.0 I.I [f: l^ IIIIM ■^ 1^ III 2.2 i -- IIIIM 118 - 6" 11.25 11.4 IIIIII.6 V] <^ n ol 7: ^>- y /^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ErV ^Uis ^ * \ \ o^ 242 THE STORY OP AN ICEBBRO. The story of an iceberg 1 yes, indeed ; and a most wonderful tale would it be, could it be truthfully written, It would run up into, and become lost in the story of the great glaciers of Greenland ; the half of which science it- self has not learned, profoundly as it has penetrated the mysteries of the Alpine glaciers. There are valleys reaching from the interior to the coast, filled with glaciers of great depth and breadth, which move forward with an imperceptible but regular motion. The continent, as one might call Greenland, does not shed the bulk of its central waters in fimd rivers, but discharges them to the ocean in solid, crystalline, slow- ly progressing streams. They flow, or rather march, with irresistible, mighty force, and far-resounding footsteps, crossing the shore line, a perpetual -procession of block- like masses, flat or diversified with hill and hollow on the top, advancing upon the sea until too deeply immersed longer to resist the buoyant power and pressure of the surrounding waters, when they break upwards, and float suspended in the vast oceanic abyss. The van of the gla- cial host, previously marked off by fissures into ranks, rushes from the too close embrace of its new element, and wheels away, an iceberg — the glistening planet of the sea, whose mazy, tortuous orbit none can calculate but Him who maps the unseen currents of the main, THE STORY OF AN lOEBERG. 243 When and where, on the lengthy Greenland coast, did this huge block make the grand exchange of ele- ments ? Which, if any of these great buildings " not made with hands," now whitening the blue fields of Nep- tune, followed or preceded it ? What have been its sol- emn rounds ? Through what winters has it slept, and caught the snows upon the folds of its sculptured draper- ies ? How many summers has it bared its spotless bosom to the sun and rains ? What nights of auroral splendors have glassed their celestial countenance in its shining mir- rors ? What baths and vases of blue water have opened their pure depths to moon and stars ? What torrents and cascades have murmured in its glassy chasms, crystal grottoes, Alpine dells ? And who shall count its battles with the waves and tempests, when with the surf about its shoulders and among its locks, and the clouds around its brow, it stood far up from the unsounded valleys of ocean " tiptoe on the mountain top " ? In the defiles and gorges of the Arctic coast are pro- digious accumulations of ice — the congelation of small streams flowing from the adjacent mountains — the glaciers of the coast range, in short. These gradually encroach upon, and overhang the sea ; and are continually breaking off, from the undermining of the waves which beat at their base. Such is the depth of water, that the hugest ava- 244 THE STORY OP AN ICEBERG. lancbe of ice can fall with safety to itself^ and float away. When, and in what bay or inlet, may this Great Northern have been launched ? Out of what gloomy fiord may have rolled the billows, after its icy fastenings were loosed, and it slid, with the thunder of an earth- quake, down its slippery ways, and plunged into the black deep ? Until science have her beaten pathway over polar waves and hills, and measure the rain-falls and the snow- falls, and the freezings of the one and the compactings of the other, the story of the glacier and the iceberg, in their native land and seas, will be left, in part, to the imagination — a faculty, after all, that will ever deal with those wonderful ices about as satisfactorily as the faculty that judges according to the sense, as Bishop Leighton calls the mere scientific faculty. The truth of this is illustrated by the very icebergs about us. Emphatically as they speak to the naturalist with his various instru- mentalities, they speak, at the same moment, with mar- vellous eloquence to the poet and the painter. There are forces, motions, and forms, voices, beauties, and a senti- ment, which escape the touch of science, and are scarcely caught by the subtle, poetic mind. Icebergs, to the imaginative souJ, have a kind of individuality and life. THE STORY OF AN ICEBEBQ. 245 They startle, frighten, awe ; they estonish, excite, amuse, delight and fascinate ; clouds, mountains and structures, angels, demons, animals and men spring to the view of the beholder. They are a favorite playground of the lines, surfaces and shapes of the whole world, the heavens above, the earth and the waters under : of their sounds, motions and colors also. These are the poet's and the painter's fields, more than they are the fields of the mere naturalist, much as they are his. Do not these fifty bergs, in sight from any crag frowning in its iron strength above the surf, speak more a living language to the crea- tive, than to the mensural faculty ? Let us see. They have a daily experience, and a current history more remarkable now than ever. Whatever may have been the wonders of their conception, birth and growth ; however iengthy and devious their voyage, they are present in these strange seas, in these tepid waters and soft airs, to undergo their last, fatal changes, and dissolve forever into their final tomb. There are fifty icebergs, more or less. Apparently similar in appearance, yet each differs widely from all others. Exhibiting similar phenomena, yet each has complexions, movements, sounds and won- ders of its own. If we choose, though, to add to the per- formances of to-day, those of yesterday and to-morrow, we shall find that the experience of any- one berg closely 246 THE STORY OP AN ICEBERG. resembles that of all. The entire circle of its looks and doings corresponds with the circle of nearly every other berg, and so of all together, differing merely in the mat- / ter of time — ^as to when the changes take place. The de- scription upon which I will venture, and which might be gleaned from the foregoing pages, is, therefore, strictly true, except that the phases and accidents are supposed to occur in rapid succession. In a word, what you would behold in all of these fifty, within twenty-four hours, you are to fancy of one, in the course of an afternoon. * I have before me, in my mind's eye, the "Windsor Castle berg, fresh from the north, and the Great Castle berg, of Belle Isle water, which it entered early last May, and as large, at the time of its arrival, as both of them at present combined. And so I am looking at a verita- ble berg of Cape St. Louis, small, though, in comparison with the berg of Cape St. Francis, " a vast cathedral of dazzling white ice, with a front of 250 feet perpendicular from the sea," visited by the Bishop of Newfoundland in the summer of 1853. I will describe, first, the figure of the berg. It is a combination of Alp, castle, mosque, Parthenon and cathe- dral. It has peaks and slopes ; cliffs, crags, chasms and caverns ; lakes, streams and waterfalls. It has towers, battlements and portals. It has minarets, domes and THE STORY OF AN ICEBEBa. 247 steeples ; roofs and gables ; balustrades and balconies ; fronts, sides and interiors ; doors, windows and porches ; steps and entrances ; columns, pilasters, capitals a^.d en- tablatures ; frieze, architrave and cornice ; arches, clois- ters, niches, statuary and countless decorations ; flutings, corrugations, carvings, panels of glassy polish and in the rough ; Greek, Boman, Gothic, Saracenic, Pagan, Sav- age. It is crested with blades and needles ; heaped here and there with ruins, blocks and bowlders, splintered and crumbled masses. This precipice has a fresh, sharp frac- ture ; yonder front, with its expanse of surface beautifully diversified with sculptured imagery and other ornament, has the polish of ivory — the glassy polish of mirrors — the enamel of sea-shells — the fierce brightness of burnished steel — the face of rubbed marble — of smoothest alabaster — of pearl — porcelain — ^lily-white flesh — lily-white wax — the flesh-finish of beauty done in the spotless stone of Italy. This, though, is but the iceberg of the air ; the head and crown only of the iceberg of the deep sea. From the figure of the berg, I will come to describe an important feature of its life and history : its motion ; not its movement from place to place, but upon its cen- tre — its rotation and vibration. Where the berg is not grounded — in which case it only beats and sways to and fro, vibrating through the arc of a circle like an inverted 24G THE BTOBY OF AN lOEBEBO. pendulum — when it is not grounded, it must be supposed to hang suspended at the surface — all but the topmost part — just under the surface of the ocean^ yery much as a cloud, a great white thunder-head, hangs suspended in the upper air. Balanced around its heart, far down in the deep, and in its cold solidity " dry as summer dust " — poised upon its centre with perfect exactness, it is evident that the loss of a single ton of ice shifts that cen- tre, shifts it an ounce-notch on the bar of the mighty scale, destroys the equilibrium, and subjects the whole to the necessity of some small movement in order to regain its rest. When, instead of one ton, thousands fall off, it sots a rolling the whole clifted and pinnacled circumfer- ence. And here begins that exhibition of novel forms and shapes, and of awful force, and the sublimity of stupen- dous masses in motion, that so impresses, awes, startles, and fascinates the beholder. A berg in repose, wondrous as it is to him that dares to linger in its presence, differs from itself in action, as a hero in his sleep differs from himself upon the field of battle. With regard to the motions of the berg, it must be borne in mind, that, from the fact of its centre being not on a level with the surface of the sea, but at depths below, they are quite different from what might at first THE STOBY OF AN ICEBERQ. 249 be imagined. A rough globe, revolving upon its axis, with but a small portion of its bulk, say a twelfth, above the water ; or, better still, the hub and spokes merely of a common wagon wheel, slowly rolling back and forth, will serve for illustration. The uppermost spoke, in its vibrations to the right and left, describes a lino of some extent along the surface, not unlike an upright stick moving to and fro, and gradually rising and sinking as it moves. In this movement back and forth, the two adjacent spokes will be observed to emerge and disappear correspondingly. In this way, a berg of large diameter, instead of falling over upon the sea like a wall or pre- cipice, appears to advance bodily, slowly sinking as it comes, with a slightly increasing inclination toward you. In its backward roll, this is reversed. It seems to be retreating, slowly rising as it floats away, with a slightly increasing inclination from you. In these grand vibra- tions, projecting points and masses of opposite sides correspondingly emerge and disappear, rising apparently straight up out of the sea on this side, going down as straight on the other. From the figure and motion of the berg, I come to describe the motive power, rather the explosive power, through which the delicate balance is destroyed, and mo- tion made a necessity in order to gain again equilibrium 11* 250 THE 8T0BY OF AN ICEBEBQ. and rest. Whatever may be the latent heat of ice, is a question for the professed naturalist. Two things are evident to the unlearned observer : an iceberg ir as solid as ivory, or marble from the lowest depths of a quarry, and cold apparently as any substance on the earth can be made. This compact and perfectly frozen body, im- mersed in the warm seas of summer, and warmer atmos- phere, finds its entire outside, and especially that portion of it which is exposed to the July sun, expanding under the influence of the penetrating heat. The scrutiny ofi science would, no doubt, find it certain that this heat, in some measure, darts in from all sides in converging rays to the very heart. The expanding power of heat be- comes at length an explosive force, and throws oflF, with all the violence and suddenness of gunpowder, in suc- cessive flakes, portions of the surface. The berg, then, bursts from expansion, as when porcelain cracks with sharp report, suddenly and unequally heated on the winter stove. Judge of the report when the porcelain of a great cliff cracks and falls, or when the entire berg is blasted asunder by the subtle, internal fire of the summer sun I If you would hear thunders, or whole broadsides and batteries of the heaviest ordnance, come to the iceberg then. Speaking incidentally of noises, reminds me of the THE BTORY OF AN ICEBERO. 251 hues aud tints of the iceberg. Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like the flowers of the field. Would you behold this berg apparelled with a glory that eclipses all floral beauty, and makes you think, not only of the clouds of heaven at sunrise and sunset, but of heaven itself, you must come to it at sunrise and at sunset. Then, too, you would hear its voices and its melodies, the deep and mournful murmuring of the surf in its caverns. Hark 1 In fancy I hear them now, half thun- der, and half the music of £ me mighty organ. And this reminds me of the sea, which shares with the iceberg something of the glory and the power. In the first place, from the white brightness of the ice, the eye is tuned to such a high key, or so stimulated and be- dazzled, that the ocean is not only dark by contrast, but dark in reality. It is purple, so deep as to amount al- most to blackness — an evening violet I would call it, a complexion magnificent and rich exceedingly in the blaze of noon, and at late and early hours when the skies are full of brilliant colors. What heightens the effect of this dye of the ocean, is the pale emerald water around the berg, and in which it floats as in a vast bath, the loveliness, clarity and divine beauty of which no language can paint in a way to kindle the proper feeling and emotion. From ten to fifty feet in breadth, it encircles 252 THK bTUIlY OF AN JOBUKAQ. \ iho borg, a zone or girdlo of Hky-groon, thut inost deli- cate tint of thu HUiiBot heuvuns, und lioa, or plays with a kind of Borpont play, botwoon tho groonish whito ico and the violet watur, aa tho bright deepg of air Ho boyond tho odgo of a blue-black cloud. There h no jwrceptible blonding, but a sharp lino which follows, botwoon tho bright and tho dark, tho windings »of tho berg, across which you may, if you have tho tomority, row tho bow of your whale-boat, and gaze down, down the fearfully transparent abyss, until tho dim ico-cliils and tho black deeps aro lost in ooch other's awful embrace. I have spoken of tho figure, motion, and tho breaking of tho iceberg, incidentally mentioning its sounds, its colors, and tho surrounding waters. You nro now ready to go with us, and spend tho afternoon about it. Early in tho morning, and for tho last hour, all but its heights and peaks has been wrapped in cloud-like fog. That, you discover, is thinning off, and will presently all pass uway. The brcezo is fresh from tho north, and wo will Bail down upon tho north-eastern side, until we have it between us and tho 3 o'clock sun. Wo aro upon sound- ings, and, as wo glide from the broad sunny tract into tho shadow of tho berg, tho ocean should be green, a deep green. But we have been sailing with the white ice in our eyes, and you sfo the ocean a c'"rk purple. The TUF HTORY OV AN ICKUKaU. 253 ctiptuiu (lru|)H sail, and BotB tho men at thoir oars. Ah tho current vots back from tho berg — the ruvcrao of tho current boh)w — you notice tliat thoy arc pulling alowly, but Btuiidily forward without any perceptible advance. Wo are diutunt a good hundred yards, as near again an wo ought to bo for safety. But this ia tho position for the painter, and it will be tho care of tho captain to keep it| the required time, as nearly as possiblo. As tho broad roller lifts us lightly and gracefully, and loaves us sinking on its after-slope, how majestic is tho silent march of it, tho noiseless flight of it 1 But look 1 — look 1 — as it flees in all its imposing breadth of dark- ness, BOO the groat, green star upon its breast — a spangle green as grass, as tho young spring grass in tho sunshine, gleaming like somo skylight of tho deep, some emerald window in the dome of tho sea-palace, letting up tho splendor. What do you suppose that is ? It is ice, a point of the berg pricking up into tho illuminated sur- iaco and reflecting the light. You will understand that bettor, perhaps, by and by. But wait an instant. Now I — now ! — Beauty strikes the lillow with her magic rod, and, presto — change ! — all is glittering green. A thousand feet of purple, cloud-like wave passes, in the twinkling of an eye, into the brightness of an emerald gem, and thus rolls up and smites the 254 THE STOBT OF AN ICEBEBG. iceberg. And thus, like night pei^etually bursting into the splendid noon, roll up the billows, and strike the minutes of the hour. How beautiful is the transfigura- tion ! See them split upon this angle of the castle ; and as they run along the walls, with the whispery, hissing sound of smoothly sliding waters, mark how high they wash, and sweep them with their snowy banners, here and there bending over, and curling into long scrolls of molten glass, which burst in dazzling foam, and plunge in many an avalanche of sparkling jewelry* Into the great porch of yonder Parthenon they rush in crowds, and thunder their applause upon the steps. Is not ail this very grand and beautiful ? Have you ever seen the like before ? The like of it is not to be seen upon the planet, apart from the icebergs. With cold, fixed, white death, life — warm, elastic, palpitating, glorious, powerful life — ^is wrestling, and will inevitably throw. Do you see " the witchery of the shadows " ? Pray look aloft. Castle, temple, cliff, all built into one, are draped with shadows softer than the tint of doves, the morning's early gray, dappled with the warm pearly blues of heaven, and edged with fire. The sun is behind the ice, and the light is pouring over. A flood of light is pouring over. All is edged with fire, streaming with lightning ; all its notched and flowing edges hemmed THB STORY OF AN ICEBERG. 255 with live, scintillating sunshine, ruby, golden, green, and blue. See you below that royal sepulchre through its crystal door ? Beauty hangs her lamp in there, and the sky-blue shadow looks like the fragrant smoke of it. Now tell me, was there ever any thing more lovely ? Have the poets dreamed of rarer loveliness ? The surf springs up like an angel from, the tomb, and, with a shout of triumph, strikes it with its silvery wings. Ha ! you start. But do not bo frightened. It was only the cracking of the iceberg. But was there ever such a blow ?— quick — tremulous — ringing — penetrat- ing. Why, it jarred the sea, and thrilled the heart like an electric shock. One feels as if the berg had dropped, instantly dropped an inch, and cracked to the very core. Captain Knight, shall we not fall back a little ? we are surely getting too close under. While I have been talking, the painter, who sits midship, with his thin, broad box upon his knees, making his easel of the open lid, has been dashing in the colors. The picture is finished, and so, at the word, the men pull heavily at their oars, and we come round upon tho south-eastern, or the cathedral front, as I will caU it, from tho fact that the general appearance is architectural, and the prevailing style, the Gothic. A dome and minaret, curiously thrown in upon one wing 256 THE STORY OF AN ICEBERG. of the berg, and some elaborately cut arches opening through the water-line into the cloister-like cavern, would suggest the Saracenic. But the pointed and the perpendicular prevail, springing up full of life and energy, vivid and flame-like in their forms. As the berg faces, we are getting the last glances of the 4 o'clock sun, and have broad sheets of both light and shadow. You see how spirited the whole thing is. It is full of brilliant, strong effects. While the hollows and depressions harbor the soft, slaty shadows, points an