go JOHN BURROUGHS 



slopes, and white of the lofty peaks and volcanic cones 

 — they are mingled and contrasted all the way. 



Was it on this day also that my eye dwelt so long and 

 so fondly upon what appeared to be another architectural 

 ruin, abutting on the sea and bathed in the soft light of 

 the late afternoon sun ? Was it some old abbey, or was 

 it some unfinished temple to the gods of the mountain? 

 Two spires, one at either end, stood up many hundred 

 feet, one slender and tapering to a blunt point, with the 

 suggestion of a recess for a bell, the other heavy and mas- 

 sive, and evidently only a stump of what it had been; the 

 roof vast and sloping, the upper story with its windows 

 rudely outlined, and the lower merged in a mass of gray 

 uncarved rock. 



Before nightfall we passed two more notable volcanic 

 peaks, Isanotski and Shishaldin, both of which penetrate 

 the clouds at an altitude of nearly 9,000 feet. These are 

 on Unimak Island at the end of the peninsula. Our first 

 glimpse was of a black cone ending in a point far above a 

 heavy mass of cloud. It seemed buoyed up there by the 

 clouds. There was nothing visible beneath it to indicate 

 the presence of a mountain. Then the clouds blotted it 

 out; but presently the veil was brushed aside again, and 

 before long we saw both mountains from base to summit 

 and noted the vast concave lines of Shishaldin that swept 

 down to the sea, and that mark the typical volcanic form. 



The long graceful curves, so attractive to the eye, re- 

 peat on this far off island the profile of Fuji-Yama, the 

 sacred peak of Japan. Those of our party who had seen 

 Shishaldin in previous years described it as snow white 

 from base to summit. But when we saw it the upper part, 

 for several thousand feet, was dark — doubtless the result 

 of heat, for it is smoking this year. 



On the morning of the 8th we were tied up at the pier 

 in Dutch Harbor, Unalaska, amid a world of green hills 



