IN GREEN ALASKA 



force had plowed or rubbed over the surface of this 

 ground. 



While at the Muir we had some cloud and fog, but 

 no storms, and we had one ideal day. That was 

 Sunday, the 11th of June, a day all sun and sky, — 

 not a cloud or film to dim the vast blue vault, — 

 and warm, even hot, on shore ; a day memorable to 

 all of us for its wonderful beauty, and especially so 

 to two of us who spent it on the top of Mt. Wright, 

 nearly three thousand feet above the glacier. It was 

 indeed a day with the gods ; strange gods, the gods 

 of the foreworld, but they had great power over us. 

 The scene we looked upon was for the most part 

 one of desolation, — snow, ice, jagged peaks, naked 

 granite, gray moraines, — but the bright sun and 

 sky over all, the genial warmth and the novelty of 

 the situation, were ample to invest it with a fasci- 

 nating interest. There was fatigue in crossing the 

 miles of moraine ; there was difficulty in making 

 our way along the sharp crests of high gravel-banks; 

 there was peril in climbing the steep boulder-strewn 

 side of the mountain, but there was exhilaration in 

 every step, and there was glory and inspiration at the 

 top. Under a summer sun, with birds singing and 

 flowers blooming, we looked into the face of winter 

 and set our feet upon the edge of his skirts. But the 

 largeness of the view, the elemental ruggedness, and 

 the solitude as of interstellar space were perhaps 

 what took the deepest hold. It seemed as if the old 

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