Aug. 1857. GEEAT GLACIER OF GREENLAND. 35 



cliffs, about 5 or 6 miles from us, appear compa- 

 ratively low, yet the icebergs detached from it 

 are of the loftiest description. Here, on the 

 spot, it does not seem incorrect to compare the 

 icebergs to mere chippings off its edge, and the 

 floe-ice to the thinnest shavings. 



The far-off outline of glacier, seen against the 

 eastern sky, has a faint tinge of yellow : it is 

 almost horizontal, and of unknown distance and 

 elevation. 



There is an unusual dearth of birds and seals : 

 everything around us is painfully still, excepting 

 when an occasional iceberg splits off from the 

 parent glacier ; then we hear a rumbling crash 

 like distant thunder, and the wave occasioned 

 by the launch reaches us in six or seven minutes, 

 and makes the ship roll lazily for a similar 

 period. I cannot imagine that within the whole 

 compass of nature's varied aspects there is pre- 

 sented to the human eye a scene so well adapted 

 for promoting deep and serious reflection, for 

 lifting the thoughts from trivial things of every- 

 day life to others of the highest import. 



The glacier serves to remind one at once of 

 Time and of Eternity — of time, since we see 

 portions of it break off to drift and melt away ; 

 and of eternity, since its downward march is so 

 extremely slow, and its augmentations behind so 



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