FIORDS OF THE INSIDE PASSAGE 



21 



white surface. It is the 2d of June, but the wind that 

 sweeps down the channel is as cold as that of an October 

 morning at home. The event of this day was the sunset 

 at 8:30 o'clock. I had often seen as much color and bril- 

 liancy in the sky, but never before such depth and richness 

 of blue and purple upon the mountains and upon the water. 

 Where the sun went down the horizon was low, and but a 

 slender black line of forest separated the sky from the 

 water. All above was crimson and orange and gold, and all 

 below, to the 

 right and left, 

 purple laid up- 

 on purple un- 

 til the whole 

 body of the 

 air between us 

 and the moun- 

 tains in the 

 distance seem- 

 ed turned to 

 color. 



As we go north the scenery becomes more and more like 

 that of the fiords on the coast of Norway, except that the 

 mountains there are mostly deforested. Deep sea-blue 

 water about us, dark spruce- and cedar-clad and torrent- 

 furrowed mountains rising above us, touched with snow on 

 their summits. Now and then a bald eagle flaps heavily 

 along the mountain side, or a line of black oyster-catchers 

 skim swiftly over the surface. We see Mount Palmerston 

 on our left, five thousand feet high, covered with a heavy 

 snow mantle in which his rocky bones have worn many 

 holes. The brilliant sun brings out every line and angle. 



At noon we stop in a deep cove with a rapid stream 

 coming into the head of it, to give some of our party an 

 hour on shore. While we are waiting for them, two deer 











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