138 I. C. R.msell — Expedition to Mount St. Ellas. 



east of our station there was a broad, level-floored amphitheatre, 

 bounded on the south by the cliffs of Pinnacle pass and on the 

 east by long snow-slopes Avhich stretch up the gorges in the side 

 of Mount Cook. The amphitheatre opens toward the northwest, 

 and discharges its accumulated snows into the Seward glacier. 

 Beyond this, on the north, stood the great curtain-wall named 

 the Corwin cliffs, west of which rose Mount Eaton, Mount Au- 

 gusta, Mount Malaspina, and other giant summits of the main 

 St. Elias range. Toward the west the view culminated in St. 

 Elias itself, ruggedly outlined against the sky. As the reader 

 will become more and more familiar Avith the magnificent scenery 

 of the St. Elias region as we advance, it need not be described in 

 detail at this time. 



All clay the skies were clear and l^right, giving abundant op- 

 portunity for making a detailed survey of the principal features 

 in view, and for reading the history written in cliffs and glaciers. 

 When the long summer day drew to a close, we returned to our 

 tent and watched the great peaks become dim and generalized in 

 outline as the twilight deepened. The fading light caused the 

 mountains to recede farther and farther, until at last they seemed 

 ghostly giants, too far away to be definitely recognized. With 

 the twilight came soft, gray, uncertain clouds drawn slowly and 

 silently about the rugged precipices by the summer winds from 

 the sea. St. Elias became enveloped in luminous clouds, with 

 the exception of a few hundred feet of the shining summit; and 

 a glory in the sky, to the left of the veiled Saint, marked the 

 place where the sun went down. The shadows crept across the 

 snow-fields and changed them from dazzling white to a soft gray- 

 blue. Night came on silently, and with but little change. There 

 was no folding of wings ; no twittering of birds in leafy branches ] 

 no sighing of Avinds among rustling leaves. All Avas stern and 

 wild and still ; there was not a touch of life to relieve the deso- 

 lation. A HiidAvinter night in inhabited lands was never more 

 solemn. Man had ncA^er rested there before. 



The air grcAV chill Avhen the shadows crossed our tent, and 

 delicate ice crystals began to shoot on the still surface of our 

 little pond. We bade good night to the stern peaks, about 

 which there Avere signs of a coming storm, and sought the shelter 

 of our tent. Small and comfortless as Avas that shelter, it shut 

 out the wintry scene and afforded a welcome retreat. Sound, 

 refreshing sleep, with dreams of loved ones far away, renewed 

 our strength for another advance. 



