242 



SCIENCE-GOSSIP. 



[Nov. 1, 1865. 



lent their robes to keep them warm. The oysters 

 that have gasped and yielded shells to make them 

 buttons. The skins taken from the backs of kids, 

 lambs, and other subservient animals, to furnish 

 gloves and boots ; and the silken thread spun from 

 the entrails of a little grub, dyed with the product 

 of gas tar, or the galls produced by a minute 

 'Cynips. 



Rather let us say that we are dependent upon the 

 whole of creation, and that much depends upon us ; 

 that there is a mutual dependence one upon the 

 other, and all have their duties to perform " in that 

 station of life unto which it has pleased God to call 

 them." To talk of independence, in this sense, is 

 but to lay bare our ignorance, and to deny the great 

 fact upon which all the operations of nature are 

 based, of mutual dependence for the good of all. 

 " All the parts incessantly work into each other's 

 hands for the profit of man. The wind sows the 

 seed ; the sun evaporates the sea ; the wind blows 

 the vapour to the field ; the ice on the other side of 

 the planet, condenses rain on this ; the rain feeds 

 the plant ; the plant feeds the animal ; and thus 

 the endless circulations of the Divine charity nourish 



THE EOCK WHISTLER. 



THE Hoary Marmot {ArctomysoJcanagamis), or, 

 as styled by the trappers and fur-traders, 

 the " Rock Whistler," lives on the very summit of 

 the Rocky Mountains. 



If there is a spot, on the face of the globe, more 

 dismal, solitary, inhospitable, and uninviting than 

 another, that spot is where this most accomplished 

 siffleur resides ; and it is not by any means a matter 

 to be wondered at, that so very little is to be found, 

 in works on natural history, relating to this little 

 anchorite's habits. 



Years have rolled by since I first heard, and 

 then saw, the Rock Whistler at home, but the scene, 

 in its every detail, is still vividly impressed on my 

 memory ; and the story may be worth relating. 



Our camp — the camp of the Boundary Commis- 

 sion—was placed in a snug gap, a little distance 

 from the Kootanir Pass, on the west side of the 

 Rocky Mountains; altitude, 8,000 feet above the 

 sea-level. About a mile from the camp was the 

 terminal point of the Boundary line (as far as our 

 Commission were concerned), the Lake of the 

 Woods being its real termination— a line not yet 

 marked and defined. 



It was near midsummer, yet the mornings were 

 cold and chilly, though the midday was scorching 

 hot. I started soon after sunrise, to have the 

 benefit of the cool, fresh morning air, my purpose 

 being to climb the craggy ascent that led up to the 

 actual summit, or watershed. 



It was not by any means a dangerous thing to do, 



— "clinging to beetling cliffs, overhanging giddy 

 heights, a single false stfep, and the daring 

 adventurer plunges into unfathomable space," — 

 nothing half so sensational or romantic in my case. 

 It was simply leg-aching, tiresome, scrambling work. 

 The grass, being dry, it polished the soles of my 

 mocassins, until they became like burnished metal, 

 so that progression, up the long green slopes, was 

 much the same as it would be, up an ice slant, at an 

 angle of 45° with skates on. I got up at last, and, 

 feeling somewhat fagged, seated myself on a flat 

 rock, unslung my rifle, lighted my pipe, and had a 

 good look at everything round about me. 



The sun had crept steadily up into the clear 

 sky, unfleeked by a single cloud; the mists that 

 in early morning hung about the ravines, and 

 partially veiled the peaks and angles of the vast 

 piles of rocks, had vanished, revealing them in all 

 their naked immensity. Below me was a lake, 

 smooth as a mirror, but the dark, green, cold look 

 of the water hinted at unfathomable depth. To my 

 left, and almost hanging over me, was an immense 

 glacier, and as the glowing sun-rays slanted down 

 on its crystal surface, each ray seemed at once 

 reduced to its prismatic colours, giving the entire 

 mass the appearance of being a heap of broken 

 rainbows. Tiny rivulets, fed by its drip, wound their 

 way, like threads of silver, between the rocks and 

 through the grass, to reach the lake ; the outflow of 

 which eventually found its way into the Atlantic 

 Ocean. Behind me rose a sharp ridge of rocks, 

 clothed in snow, which, as it thawed, grew into 

 mountain streams ; these into rivers, that, mingling 

 eventually into one great whole, become the 

 mighty Columbia, that finds its home in the blue 

 Pacific. 



I was not so much impressed with the beauty of 

 the landscape, as awed by its solemn, substantial, 

 massive magnificence. It seemed to absorb me ; 

 I felt as a minute marine zoophyte might be 

 supposed to feel if eugulphed in the capacious 

 mouth of a Greenland whale. Few living things 

 were to be seen, save a gi-oup of Ptarmigan, sun- 

 ning themselves on a ledge of rock; a couple of 

 Mountain Goats {Antilocapra Americana), browsing 

 by the lake ; and a few Grey-crowned Linnets, — birds 

 seldom seen but at great altitudes. There were also 

 the recent traces of a Grizzly or Black Bear, that 

 had been munching down the wild Angelica. A 

 solemn stillness, that appeared almost tangible, 

 intensified the slightest sound to a supernatural 

 loudness : even a loosened stone rattling down the 

 hill-side made me start ; there was no buzz and hum 

 of busy insects, or chirp of birds, or splash of torrents 

 to break the silence ; the very wind seemed afraid 

 to moan : it was death-like silence to the very 

 letter. 



As I puffed away, silent as all about me, suddenly 

 a sharp, ringing, clear, piercing whistle that awoke 



