214 
LETTERS FROM HIGH LATITUDES. 
from underneath whose floating folds seven enormous 
glaciers rolled down into the sea! Nature seemed to 
have turned scene-shifter, so artfully were the phases 
of this glorious spectacle successively developed. 
Although—by reason of our having hit upon its 
side instead of its narrow end—the outline of Mount 
Beerenberg appeared to us more like a sugar-loaf than a 
spire—broader at the base and rounder at the top than 
I had imagined,—in size, colour, and effect, it far 
surpassed anything I had anticipated. The glaciers 
were quite an unexpected element of beauty. Imagine 
a mighty river of as great a volume as the Thames— 
started down the side of a mountain,—bursting over 
every impediment,—whirled into a thousand eddies,— 
tumbling and raging on from ledge to ledge in quiver¬ 
ing cataracts of foam,—then suddenly struck rigid 
by a power so instantaneous in its action, that 
even the froth and fleeting wreaths of spray have 
stiffened to the immutability of sculpture. Unless you 
had seen it, it would be almost impossible to conceive 
the strangeness of the contrast between the actual 
tranquillity of these silent crystal rivers and the violent 
descending energy impressed upon their exterior. You 
