THE VOYAGE OF THE HASSLER 143 
a little anxious for a while: Provisions are low; we 
vibrate between mussel soup, mussel currie, mussels 
on the shell, and pork and beans; salt beef out, pota- 
toes very nearly so, butter has not been heard of for 
along time. Once in a while a very fishy duck or goose 
varies our fare, but our larder is really not in such a 
condition that we could be caught here for two or 
three weeks without being somewhat at a loss even 
for bread, since flour too is getting very near the bot- 
tom of the barrel. However, after an hour’s delay the 
engine was so far repaired that we could proceed, the 
weather cleared, and we had a beautiful afternoon for 
the most imposing scenery we have yet seen. My de- 
scriptions would be mere repetition. You must imag- 
ine a river repeating on its shores mile after mile and 
hour after hour a panorama of which the foreground 
is of low hills forest-covered, then a line of very 
rugged precipitous rocky heights, then a chain of 
snow mountains behind with very many glaciers in 
which even with the naked eye you can see the blue 
color of the ice and the rifts and crevasses that trav- 
erse it. Through scenes like these we have come to 
our harborage tonight, a romantic inlet full of islands 
and coves and windings, in what is called “Owen’s 
Island.”’ A boat has just returned from a shooting 
expedition, bringing what Agassiz has exceedingly 
desired, a ‘“‘steamer duck,” many of which were 
swimming about when we came in. They shoot 
through the water with wonderful rapidity, going 
long distances at a time, and leaving trails behind 
them like a little boat. They are immense birds, the 
