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Title: The National Geographic Magazine, Vol. III. (Complete), 1891

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NATIONAL
GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE, VOL. III. (COMPLETE), 1891 ***

THE

NATIONAL

GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE

VOLUME III, 1891

WASHINGTON

PUBLISHED BY THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY

1892

OFFICERS OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY
1891

GARDINER G. HUBBARD, President
HERBERT G. OGDEN
EVERETT HAYDEN
A. W. GREELY Vice-Presidents
C. HART MERRIAM
HENRY GANNETT
CHARLES J. BELL, Treasurer
MARCUS BAKER
Secretaries
C. A. KENASTON
ROGERS BIRNIE, JR.
G. K. GILBERT
G. BROWN GOODE
WILLARD D. JOHNSON
Managers
W J MCGEE
T. C. MENDENHALL
W. B. POWELL
B. H. WARDER

PRINTERS
JUDD & DETWEILER
WASHINGTON

ENGRAVERS
MOSS ENGRAVING CO.
NEW YORK

CONTENTS.

South America: Annual Address by the President, GARDINER G. HUBBARD

Geography of the Land: Annual Report by Vice-President HERBERT G.
OGDEN

Geography of the Air: Annual Report by Vice-President A. W. GREELY

An Expedition to Mount St. Elias, Alaska; by ISRAEL C. RUSSELL
Introduction—The Southern Coast of Alaska
Part I—Previous Explorations in the St. Elias Region
Part II—Narrative of the St. Elias Expedition of 1890
Part III—Sketch of the Geology of the St. Elias Region
Part IV—Glaciers of the St. Elias Region
Part V—Height and Position of Mount St. Elias
Appendix A—Official Instructions governing the Expedition
Appendix B—Report on topographic Work; by MARK B. KERR
Appendix C—Report on auriferous Sands from Yakutat Bay; by J.
STANLEY-BROWN
Appendix D—Report on fossil Plants; by LESTER F. WARD
Index

The Cartography and Observations of Bering's First Voyage; by A. W.
GREELY

Height and Position of Mount St. Elias; by ISRAEL C. RUSSELL

The Heart of Africa; by E. C. HORE

Report of Committee on Exploration in Alaska

Notes—La Carte de France, dite de l'Etat Major, par M. J. COLLET

Polar Regions

The Crossing of Tibet

Statistics of Railways in United States

Index to volume III

Title-page and Imprimatur of Board of Managers

Contents and Illustrations

Publications of the National Geographic Society

Proceedings of the National Geographic Society

Officers of the Society for 1892

Members of the Society

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Plate 1—South America (map)
2—Sketch Map of Alaska
3—Map of the St. Elias Region, after La Pérouse
4—Map of the eastern Shore of Yakutat Bay, after Dixon
5—Map of the St. Elias Region, after Malaspina
6—Map of Bay de Monti, after Malaspina
7—Map of Disenchantment Bay, after Malaspina
8—Sketch Map of St. Elias Region, by MARK B. KERR
9—The Hubbard Glacier
10—Wall of Ice on eastern Side of Atrevida Glacier
11—View on Atrevida Glacier
12—Entrance of an Ice Tunnel
13—Deltas in an abandoned Lake Bed
14—A River on the Lucia Glacier
15—Entrance to a glacial Tunnel
16—View of Malaspina Glacier from Blossom Island
17—Moraines on Marvine Glacier
18—View of the Hitchcock Range from near Dome Pass
19—View of Mount St. Elias from Dome Pass
20—View of Mount St. Elias from Seward Glacier
21—Carte Générale des Découvertes de l'Amiral de Fonte (1752)

RUSSELL: Figure 1—Diagram illustrating the Formation of Icebergs
2—View of a glacial Lakelet
3—Section of a glacial Lakelet
4—Diagram illustrating the Formation of marginal
Crevasses
5—Crevasses near Pinnacle Pass
6—Snow Crests on Ridges and Peaks
7—Faulted Pebble from Pinnacle Pass
8—Faulted Pebble from Pinnacle Pass

PUBLICATIONS OF THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC
SOCIETY.

REGULAR PUBLICATIONS.

In addition to announcements of meetings and various circulars sent to
members from time to time, the Society issues a single serial publication
entitled THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE. During the first two years
of the existence of the Society this serial was issued in quarterly numbers.
With the beginning of the third year of the Society and the third volume of
the Magazine the form of publication was changed, and the serial now
appears at irregular intervals in parts or brochures (designated by pages and
designed either for separate preservation or for gathering into volumes)
which consist either of single memoirs or of magazine brochures made up
of articles, notes, abstracts, and other geographic matter, together with the
Proceedings and other administrative records of the Society.

The Magazine is mailed free to members of the Society and to exchanges.
The first two volumes, as well as the separate brochures of the third and the
complete volume, are sold at the prices given below by the Secretary, Mr. F.
H. Newell, U. S. Geological Survey, Washington, D. C.

To To the
Members. Public.
Volume I, 1889: 4 numbers, 334 pages, 16 plates and 26 $2
$1 40
figures 00
Volume II, 1890: 5 numbers, 344 pages, 10 plates and 11
1 40 2 00
figures
Volume III, 1891: Comprising:
South America; Annual Address by the President, $0
$0 15
Gardiner G. Hubbard: pp. 1–30, pl. 1, March 28, 1891 25
Geography of the Land; Annual Report by Vice-
0 10 0 25
President Herbert G. Ogden: pp. 31–40, April 30, 1891

Geography of the Air; Annual Report by Vice-President
0 10 0 25
A. W. Greely: pp. 41–52, May 1, 1891
An Expedition to Mount St. Elias, by I. C. Russell: pp.
0 85 1 50
53–204 (with 8 figures), pls. 2–20, May 29, 1891
Magazine brochure, pp. 205–261, i–xxxv, pl. 21,
0 40 0 75
February 19, 1892
1 60 3 00

IRREGULAR PUBLICATIONS.

In the interests of exact bibliography, the Society takes cognizance of all
publications issued either wholly or partly under its auspices. Each author
of a memoir published in THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE receives
25 copies, and is authorized to order any number of additional copies at a
slight advance on the cost of press-work and paper; and these separate
brochures are identical with those of the regular edition issued by the
Society. Contributors to the magazine brochures are authorized to order any
number of copies of their contributions at a slight advance on cost of press-
work and paper, provided these separates bear the original pagination and a
printed reference to the serial and volume from which they are extracted;
but such separates are bibliographically distinct from the brochures issued
by the Society. The Magazine is not copyrighted, and articles may be
reprinted freely; and a record of reprints, so far as known, is kept.

The following separates and reprints from volume III have been issued:

Editions uniform with the Brochures of the Magazine.

Pages 1–30, plate 1: 150 copies,March 28, 1891.
Pages 31–40, 25 copies,May 2, 1891.
Pages 41–52, 25 copies,May 2, 1891.

Pages 53–204, plates 2–20: 250 copies,May 29, 1891.

Special Editions.

Pages 205–230, plate 21: 50 copies,February 18, 1892.
Pages 231–237, 100 copies,February 16, 1892.
Page v, 1000 copies,February 19, 1892.
Pages xv–xxxv, 50 copies,February 13, 1892.

Reprints.

Pages 196–198, 100 copies,January 3, 1892.

PROCEEDINGS

OF THE

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY.

(Abstract of Minutes.)

March 6, 1891. 49th meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 50.

Captain E. C. Hore, master mariner, delivered an address on "A narrative of
ten years' work and travel in the African lake region." Abstract entitled "The
Heart of Africa" printed in this volume, pp. 238–243.

March 13, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Room of the National Museum. Vice-President
Ogden in the chair. Attendance, 850.

Captain E. C. Hore repeated his former lecture with additions. Abstract
printed in this volume, pp. 243–247.

March 20, 1891. 50th meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. Mr. G. K. Gilbert
in the chair. Attendance, 35.

Vice-President Greely read a paper on "The cartography and observations
of Bering's first voyage." The paper was discussed by Messrs Dall,
Blodgett, Littlehales, and Vice-President Hayden. Printed in this volume,
pp. 205–230, pl. 21.

Mr. J. Stanley-Brown presented a paper on "Auriferous sands from Yakutat
bay." Printed in this volume, pp. 196–198.

Mr. I. C. Russell read a paper on "The geology of the Mount St. Elias
region, Alaska." The paper was discussed by Messrs Gilbert (who had
resigned the chair to Vice-President Hayden), Dall, Johnson, and Russell.
Incorporated in the memoir forming pp. 53–204, pls. 2–20, of this volume.

March 31, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Law Lecture Room of Columbian University. Vice-
President Ogden in the chair. Attendance, 300.

Mr. Sergius Stepniak delivered an address on "The Russian peasantry."

April 3, 1891. 51st meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club, Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 35.

A paper on "The Mackenzie river and Colinson," by Vice-President Greely,
was read by title in the absence of the author.

Ensign J. A. Hoogewerff, U. S. N., presented an account of the "Magnetic
work of the United States Naval Observatory." The paper was discussed by
Messrs Baker, Abbe, Ogden, Hayden, and Hoogewerff.

Mr. F. H. Bigelow presented a paper on "Auroral streamers."

Mr. Cleveland Abbe made some remarks on "Theories of magnetic
phenomena."

April 11, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of the National Museum. President
Hubbard in the chair. Attendance, 750.

Major J. W. Powell delivered an address on "The Grand cañon of Colorado
river."

April 17, 1891. 52d meeting.

Meeting held in Lincoln Hall. President Hubbard in the chair. Attendance,
1,000.

Mr. Geo. W. Melville, Engineer-in-Chief, U. S. N., briefly explained the
purposes of arctic exploration.

Civil Engineer R. E. Peary, U. S. N., addressed the Society on the subject of
his proposed northern Greenland expedition of 1891–92. The lecturer

exhibited and explained a number of lantern-slide views illustrating arctic
scenery and modes of traveling.

On the conclusion of the address a United States flag, provided for the
purpose by Miss Ulrica Dahlgren, was presented by the President on behalf
of the Society to Lieut. Peary, who responded feelingly.

April 24, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Room of the National Museum. Attendance,
400.

Mr. H. M. Wilson, of the United States Geological Survey, delivered an
address on the subject "India: Its geography and people." At the close of the
lecture Mr. Wilson exhibited and explained a number of lantern-slides made
from views taken by him while traveling in India.

May 1, 1891. 53d meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of the National Museum. Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 600.

Mr. Courtenay De Kalb delivered an address on "The great Amazon:
Personal investigations on the Great River and in its upper valley." At the
close of the lecture Mr. De Kalb exhibited a number of lantern-slide views,
which he described.

May 15, 1891. 54th meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 25.

At the request of the Board of Managers, Mr. Marcus Baker made a
statement relative to plans by the Board for further Alaskan exploration in

the vicinity of Mount St. Elias under the conduct of Mr. I. C. Russell, to be
prosecuted the coming season.

Mr. Gilbert, complying with the request of the Chairman, addressed the
Society upon some of the questions involved in Alaskan geology.

Dr. Sheldon Jackson, at the invitation of the Society, spoke on the general
aspects of the Alaskan coast and the inhabitants of the country.

Remarks were made, following Dr. Jackson's address, by the Chairman, Mr.
J. H. Blodgett, and others.

In connection with the announcement of the proposed Field Day, June 3 and
4 next, to the grottoes near Shendun, in the Shenandoah valley, Virginia,
Major Jed. Hotchkiss gave an interesting account of the topography of the
valley.

An exhibition of lantern-slide views of Alaskan coast scenery followed, the
pictures being explained by Mr. I. C. Russell.

May 29, 1891. 55th meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Room of the National Museum. Attendance,
800.

Reverend Dr. H. C. Hovey delivered an address on "Subterranean scenery
as found in the grottoes of the Shenandoah and other caverns of Virginia,"
with illustrations from lantern-slide views exhibited for the first time.
Following the address, Major Hotchkiss illustrated with free-hand sketches
on the blackboard the topography of the valley of Virginia, interspersing his
remarks with war reminiscences.

June 3 and 4. Field meeting.

About 80 members left Washington on special train June 3, arriving at 3
p.m. at Shendun, Virginia, where they were entertained by the Grottoes

company. Weir cave was visited that afternoon, and in the evening a
meeting was held in the hotel parlor, at which remarks were made by Mr. G.
K. Gilbert, Reverend Dr. H. C. Hovey, Major H. E. Alvord, Captain
Morton, General J. J. Reynolds, and Hon. J. Randolph Tucker. The next
morning Major Hotchkiss entertained the company with a description of the
resources of the Valley of Virginia, his remarks being illustrated by free-
hand sketches. The Cave of the Fountain was then visited, and, after
presenting a testimonial to Major Hotchkiss for the hospitality of the
Grottoes company, the party left for Washington.

October 15, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. President Hubbard
in the chair. Attendance, 50.

Professor T. McKenney Hughes, professor of geology at Cambridge
University, England, gave a sketch of geological problems and the larger
questions of geology in England.

Messrs Powell, McGee, and Gilbert made remarks on the geologic subjects
touched upon by Professor Hughes.

November 13, 1891. 56th meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of Columbian University. President
Hubbard in the chair. Attendance, 400.

The exercises consisted of an exhibition of Arctic photographs by General
A. W. Greely, U. S. A., comprising lantern-slide views from photographs
taken during the expedition to Lady Franklin bay in 1881, and never before
exhibited in the city.

November 27, 1891. 57th meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 65.

Mr. Herbert G. Ogden made an oral communication on "The geographic
position of Mount St. Elias," illustrated by a chart exhibiting the position of
St. Elias, Icy bay, Yakutat bay, and the adjacent coast as determined (1)
from various surveys compiled by the United States Coast and Geodetic
Survey, (2) by Mark B. Kerr during the first expedition of the Society, and
(3) by I. C. Russell during the second expedition.

The communication was discussed by Messrs Mendenhall, Douglas, and
Vice-President Hayden.

Mr. E. E. Howell then exhibited and briefly described a relief model of the
United States, constructed on the natural curvature, the vertical scale being
three times that of the horizontal.

Remarks were made by Messrs Ogden, McGee, Johnson, Mendenhall,
Howell, Hayden, and others.

December 4, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of Columbian University.

Mr. William Eleroy Curtis delivered an address on "Portraits of Columbus."
The lecturer exhibited copies of all Columbus' portraits extant, these having
been prepared for the World's Columbian exposition.

December 11, 1891. 58th meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of Columbian University. Vice-President
Greely in the chair. Attendance, 400.

Mr. I. C. Russell gave an account of the Mount St. Elias exploration of last
summer, illustrated by a map and lantern slides.

December 18, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of Columbian University. Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 100.

Mr. F. H. Newell delivered an address on "Petroleum and natural gas." The
lecture was illustrated by lantern slides made from photographs taken in the
oil regions of the United States.

December 23, 1891. 59th (4th annual) meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. Vice-President
Greely in the chair.

The annual report of the Secretaries was presented, amended, and adopted.

The annual report of the Treasurer was presented and referred to an auditing
committee consisting of Messrs P. H. Christie, Middleton Smith, and E. E.
Haskell.

The annual election of officers for the year 1892 was then held, with the
following result:

President—Gardiner G. Hubbard.

Vice-Presidents—H. G. Ogden (land).
Everett Hayden (sea).
A. W. Greely (air).
C. Hart Merriam (life).
Henry Gannett (art).

Treasurer—C. J. Bell.

Recording Secretary—F. H. Newell.

Corresponding Secretary—E. R. Scidmore.

Managers—Marcus Baker.
H. F. Blount.
G. K. Gilbert.
John Hyde.
W J McGee.
T. C. Mendenhall.
W. B. Powell.
Edwin Willits.

The following resolution was adopted:

Resolved, That the Board of Managers be requested to consider
whether, instead of the present policy of publishing only a few selected
articles, these might not advantageously be replaced by a greater
variety of less lengthy and expensive works, and whether a few pages
of geographic notes might not be inserted.

Mr. Hayden gave notice of the following proposed amendment to the By-
laws:

In article IV, instead of five vice-presidents, read six vice-presidents,
and insert at the end of list of departments of geographic science, after
geographic art, the words "commercial geography."

December 30, 1891. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of the National Museum. President
Hubbard in the chair. Attendance, 200.

Professor Benjamin Sharp of the Academy of Natural Sciences of
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, made an address upon Peary and the western
Greenland expedition. The lecture was illustrated by lantern slides from
photographs taken on the expedition while along the shores of Greenland
and at Peary's camp.

January 8, 1892. 60th meeting.

Meeting held in the Assembly Hall of the Cosmos Club. Vice-President
Merriam in the chair. Attendance, 150.

Mr. W J McGee delivered an address on "The Eastern Sierra Madre of
Mexico," his lecture being illustrated by lantern slides made from
photographs taken in the vicinity of Monterey, Saltillo, Matehuala,
Miquihuana, Doctor Arroyo, and the hacienda El Carmen. Professor R. T.
Hill described the similarity of topographic features of that region to those
of the Great Basin of the United States.

January 15, 1892. Special meeting.

Meeting held in the Lecture Hall of Columbian University. Vice-President
Hayden in the chair. Attendance, 100.

The President, Mr. Gardiner G. Hubbard, delivered his annual address on
the subject of "The Evolution of Transportation." Major J. W. Powell
prefaced the President's address by brief introductory remarks.

OFFICERS OF THE SOCIETY.

1892.

President.

GARDINER G. HUBBARD.

Vice-Presidents.

HERBERT G. OGDEN.
EVERETT HAYDEN.
A. W. GREELY.
C. HART MERRIAM.
HENRY GANNETT.

Treasurer.

CHARLES J. BELL.

Secretaries.

F. H. NEWELL.
E. R. SCIDMORE.

Managers.

MARCUS BAKER.
HENRY F. BLOUNT.
G. K. GILBERT.
JOHN HYDE.
W J MCGEE.
T. C. MENDENHALL.
W. B. POWELL.
EDWIN WILLITS.

MEMBERS OF THE SOCIETY.

1892.

a, original members. c, corresponding members.
l, life members. * Deceased.
In cases where no city is given in the address, Washington, D. C., is to be understood.

ABBE, PROF. CLEVELAND, a, l,
Weather Bureau.

ABERT, S. T.,
722 Seventeenth Street.

ACKERMAN, ENS. A. A., U. S. N., c,
Navy Department.

ACKLEY, LIEUT. COMDR. S. M., U. S. N.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

ADDISON, A. D.,
808 Seventeenth Street.

AHERN, LIEUT. GEORGE P., U. S. A., c,
College of Montana, Deer Lodge, Mont.

AHERN, JEREMIAH,
U. S. Geological Survey, Los Angeles, Cal.

ALLEN, DR. J. A.,
American Museum Natural History, New York, N. Y.

ALTON, EDMUND,
Wormley's Hotel.

ALVORD, MAJ. HENRY E., c,
Md. Agricultural College, College Park, Maryland.

ANDREWS, ENS. PHILIP, U. S. N.,
Navy Department.

APLIN, S. A., JR.,
Geological Survey.

ASPINWALL, REV. J. A.,
17 Dupont Circle.

AYRES, MISS SUSAN C., a,
1813 Thirteenth Street.

BABB, CYRUS C.,
Geological Survey.

BABER, HON. GEORGE,
1416 K Street.

BAKER, DR. FRANK, a,
Smithsonian Institution.

BAKER, LUCIUS, c,
P. O. Drawer T, Fresno, Cal.

BAKER, MARCUS, a,
Geological Survey.

BALDWIN, H. L., JR., a,
Geological Survey.

BALL, CHAS. B.,

942 T Street.

BANCROFT, REV. DR. CECIL F. P., c,
Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass.

BARKER, COMDR. ALBERT S., U. S. N.,
Navy Department.

BARNARD, E. C., a,
Geological Survey.

BARNES, CHARLES A., c,
P. O. Box 1198, Seattle, Wash.

BARROLL, LIEUT. HENRY H., U. S. N., c,
Navy Department.

BARTLE, R. F.,
947 Virginia Avenue SW.

BARTLETT, COMDR. J. R., U. S. N., a,
Navy Department.

BARTLETT, P. V. S.,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

BASSETT, C. C., a,
Geological Survey.

BATCHELDER, C. F., c,
7 Kirkland Street, Cambridge, Mass.

BAUER, LOUIS A.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

BAYLEY, DR. W. S., c,
Colby University, Waterville, Me.

BEAMAN, W. M.,
Geological Survey.

BELL, A. GRAHAM, a,
Volta Bureau, 3414 Q Street.

BELL, PROF. A. MELVILLE,
1525 Thirty-fifth Street.

BELL, C. J., a,
1406 G Street.

BERGMANN, H. H.,
511 Seventh Street.

BERNADOU, ENS. JOHN B., U. S. N., c,
Navy Department.

BIEN, JULIUS, a,
P. O. Box 3557, New York, N. Y.

BIEN, MORRIS, a,
Geological Survey.

BIGELOW, PROF. FRANK H.,
1416 K Street.

BIRCH, CHARLES E.,
Hydrographic Office.

BIRNEY, GEN. WILLIAM,
458 Louisiana Avenue.

BLAIR, H. B., a,
Geological Survey.

BLODGETT, JAMES H., a,
1237 Massachusetts Avenue.

BLOUNT, HENRY F.,
1405 G Street.

BODFISH, SUMNER H., a,
58 B Street NE.

BOURSIN, HENRY,
Douglas, Alaska.

BOWERS, DR. STEPHEN, c,
Ventura, Cal.

BRECKINRIDGE, GEN. J. C., U. S. A.,
War Department.

BRIGHT, RICHARD R.,
Navy Department.

BRITTON, A. T.,
1405 G Street.

BROWNELL, ERNEST H., c,
Bristol, R. I.

BUCKLEY, MISS M. L.,
Bureau of Pensions.

BURNETT, CHARLES A., c,
620 Burke Building, Seattle, Wash.

BURTON, PROF. A. E., a,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.

CAMPBELL, M. R.,

Geological Survey.

CANNON, H. B.,
Department of Agriculture.

CANTWELL, LIEUT. J. C., U. S. R. M., c,
1818 Sacramento Street, San Francisco, Cal.

CARMAN, MISS ADA,
1351 Q Street.

CARROLL, CAPT. JAMES, c,
Juneau, Alaska.

CHAMBERLIN, PROF. T. C., c,
772 Langdon Street, Madison, Wis.

CHAPIN, FREDERICK E.,
3043 P Street.

CHAPIN, DR. J. H.,
Meriden, Conn.

CHAPMAN, R. H., a,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

CHATARD, DR. THOMAS M., a,
Geological Survey.

CHENERY, LIEUT. COMDR. LEONARD, U. S. N., c,
University Club, New York, N. Y.

CHESTER, COMDR. C. M., U. S. N., c,
U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md.

CHRISTIE, JAMES II., c,
Olga, Wash.

CHRISTIE, P. H.,
Geological Survey.

CLARK, E. B., a,
Geological Survey.

CLARK, DR. WM. B., c,
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

CLOVER, LIEUT. COMDR. RICHARDSON, U. S. N.,
Hydrographic Office.

COLE, T. L.,
12 Corcoran Building.

COLONNA, B. A.,
138 B Street NE.

COLTON, FRANCIS,
The Shoreham.

COMSTOCK, MRS. SARAH C.,
1464 Rhode Island Avenue.

COOK, FRED. W., c,
P. O. Box 140, Sault de Ste. Marie, Mich.

COURT, E. E.,
Hydrographic Office.

CRAIGHEAD, REV. DR. J. G.,
1223 Eleventh Street.

CROFFUT, W. A.,
Geological Survey.

CUMMIN, ROBT. D., a,
Geological Survey.

CUMMINGS, PROF. GEO. J.,
Howard University.

CUNNINGHAM, JOHN M., c,
Cosmos Club, San Francisco, Cal.

CURTIS, WILLIAM E., a,
2 Lafayette Square.

DALL, MRS. CAROLINE H.,
1526 Eighteenth Street.

DALL, WM. H.,
National Museum.

DALY, HON. CHAS. P.,
84 Clinton Place, New York, N. Y.

DARTON, N. H.,
Geological Survey.

DAVIDGE, WALTER DORSEY, JR.,
1 Corcoran Building.

DAVIDSON, PROF. GEORGE, a, c,
U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey, San Francisco, Cal.

DAVIS, ARTHUR P., a,
U. S. Geological Survey, Los Angeles, Cal.

DAVIS, PROF. W. M., a,
2 Bond Street, Cambridge, Mass.

DAWSON, MISS A. B.,

Geological Survey.

DAY, DR. DAVID T.,
Geological Survey.

DAY, E. WARREN,
War Department.

DENNEY, MISS L. A.,
707 Thirteenth Street.

DENNY, A. A., c,
1328 Front Street, Seattle, Wash.

DIEBITSCH, EMIL,
U. S. Naval Station, Port Royal, S. C.

DILLER, J. S., a,
Geological Survey.

DOBBINS, J. W.,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

DOUGLAS, E. M., a,
Geological Survey.

DOW, CAPT. JOHN M.,
83 W. Seventy-first Street, New York, N. Y.

DUNCKLEE, JOHN B.,
912 French Street.

DUNNINGTON, A. F., a,
Geological Survey.

DURAND, JOHN,
164 Bd. Montparnasse, Paris, France.

DUTTON, MAJ. C. E., U. S. A., a,
San Antonio, Tex.

DYER, LIEUT. G. L., U. S. N.,
Navy Pay Office, San Francisco, Cal.

EDMANDS, PROF. J. RAYNER,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

EDSON, JOHN JOY,
1003 F Street.

EDSON, JOSEPH R., a,
1003 F Street.

EIMBECK, WILLIAM,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

ELDRIDGE, G. H.,
Geological Survey.

ELIOT, CHARLES,
Room 50, 50 State Street, Boston, Mass.

ELLICOTT, ENS. JOHN M., U. S. N.,

2023 I Street.

ELMORE, HERBERT W.,
Geological Survey.

ERBACH, JOHN,
Geological Survey.

EVANS, H. C.,
804 Eleventh Street.

FAIRCHILD, PROF. H. L., c,
University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y.

FAIRFIELD, GEORGE A., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

FAIRFIELD, W. BROWNE, a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

FARMER, R. A.,
Geological Survey.

FERNOW, B. E., a,
Department of Agriculture.

FEUSIER, H. E. CLERMONT,
819 Grove Street, San Francisco, Cal.

FISCHER, E. G., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

FISCHER, L. A.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

FITCH, C. H., a,
3025 N Street.

FLEMER, J. A.,
412 A Street SE.

FLETCHER, L. C., a,
Geological Survey.

FLETCHER, DR. ROBERT, a,
Army Medical Museum.

FLINT, CHARLES,
1519 O Street.

FLINT, COL. WESTON,
1101 K Street.

FLOYD, FRED. W.,
539 W. Twentieth Street, New York, N. Y.

FOGG, LINDLEY,
Sixth Auditor's Office.

FOSTER, PROF. RICHARD,
Howard University.

FRASER, DANIEL,
458 Pennsylvania Avenue.

FREER, DR. JAMES A.,
1523 I Street.

FULLER, MISS ADELAIDE H.,
1321 Rhode Island Avenue.

GAGE, N. P., a,
Seaton School.

GANE, H. S., c,
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

GANNETT, HENRY, a,
Geological Survey.

GANNETT, S. S., a,
Geological Survey.

GARDNER, C. L.,
1710 Sixteenth Street.

GARRISON, MISS CARL L.,
Phelps School.

GILBERT, G. K., a,
Geological Survey.

GILL, WILSON L., c,
Room 57, 115 Broadway, New York, N. Y.

GILMAN, DR. DANIEL C., a,
Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.

GOLDIE, R. H., c,
P. O. Box 1110, Seattle, Wash.

GOODALL, F. H.,
Second Auditor's Office.

GOODALL, OTIS B.,
932 P Street.

GOODE, DR. G. BROWN, a,
Smithsonian Institution.

GOODE, R. U., a,

Geological Survey.

GOODFELLOW, EDWARD, a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

GOODISON, PROF. JOHN,
State Normal School, Ypsilanti, Mich.

GORHAM, GEO. C.,
1763 Q Street.

GRAHAM, MISS A. M.,
1234 Massachusetts Avenue.

GRAHAM, ANDREW B.,
1230 Pennsylvania Avenue.

GRANGER, F. D.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

GRAVES, WALTER H.,
Geological Survey.

GREELY, GEN. A. W., U. S. A., a,
1914 G Street.

GRIFFITH, G. BERKELEY,
1630 Rhode Island Avenue.

GRISWOLD, W. T., a,
U. S. Geological Survey, Boise, Idaho.

GROEGER, G. G., c,
310 Chamber of Commerce Building, Chicago, Ill.

GULLIVER, F. P., c,
Norwich, Conn.

GUNION, MRS. REBECCA E.,
927 O Street.

GURLEY, CHARLES L.,
1401 Sixteenth Street.

HACKETT, M., a,
Geological Survey.

HAGADORN, LIEUT. CHAS. B., U. S. A., c,
Fort Leavenworth, Kans.

HALE, L. P., c,
Canton, N. Y.

HARRINGTON, PROF. MARK W.,
Weather Bureau.

HARRIS, DR. T. W.,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

HARRISON, D. C., a,
Geological Survey.

HARRISON, PROF. THOS. F., c,
221 W. Forty-fifth Street, New York, N. Y.

HARROD, MAJ. B. M.,
City Engineer's Office, New Orleans, La.

HART, PROF. ALBERT BUSHNELL,
15 Appian Way, Cambridge, Mass.

HART, JUAN, c,
El Paso, Tex.

HASBROUCK, E. M.,
1610 Fifteenth Street.

HASKELL, E. E., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

HAWKINS, GEO. T.,
Geological Survey.

HAY, PROF. ROBERT,
P. O. Box 562, Junction City, Kans.

HAYDEN, EVERETT, a,
Hydrographic Office.

HAYDEN, J. J.,
929 K Street.

HAYES, DR. C. WILLARD,
Geological Survey.

HAYES, PROF. ELLEN, c,
Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.

HAYS, J. W.,
Oxford, N. C.

HAZARD, DANIEL L.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

HEATON, A. G.,
1618 Seventeenth Street.

HEILPRIN, GILES F.,
1227 Pennsylvania Avenue.

HENRY, A. J., a,

948 S Street.

HENSHAW, H. W., a,
Bureau of Ethnology.

HERRLE, G., a,
Hydrographic Office.

HERRON, WM. H., a,
Geological Survey.

HILL, PROF. R. T.,
910 Fifteenth Street.

HINDS, DR. CLARA BLISS,
1331 Fourteenth Street.

HINMAN, RUSSELL,
806 Broadway, New York, N. Y.

HITCHCOCK, PROF. C. H., c,
Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H.

HOBBS, DR. WM. H., c,
University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.

HODGKINS, PROF. H. L., a,
Columbian University.

HODGKINS, W. C.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

HOLDEN, PROF. E. S., c,
Lick Observatory, Mount Hamilton, Cal.

HOLDEN, MRS. L. E.,
P. O. Box 1027, Salt Lake, Utah.

HOLDEN, LUTHER L.,
7 Warren Square, Jamaica Plain, Mass.

HOLLERITH, HERMAN,
501 F Street.

HOLMES, PROF. J. A., c,
Chapel Hill, N. C.

HOLT, H. P. R.,
Takoma Park, D. C.

HORE, CAPT. EDWARD C., c,
Royal Geographical Society, London, England.

HORNADAY, W. T., a,
44 Niagara Street, Buffalo, N. Y.

HORNBLOWER, J. C.,
1402 M Street.

HOSKINS, PROF. L. M., c,
University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis.

HOSMER, EDWARD STURGES, l,
1330 L Street.

HOTCHKISS, MAJ. JED.,
Staunton, Va.

HOVEY, REV. DR. H. C.,
60 Crescent Street, Middletown, Conn.

HOWARD, ENS. W. L., U. S. N., c,
Navy Pay Office, San Francisco, Cal.

HOWELL, D. J., a,
918 F Street.

HOWELL, EDWIN E., a,
612 Seventeenth Street.

HUBBARD, GARDINER G., a,
1328 Connecticut Avenue.

HUTCHINSON, JOHN,
933 H Street.

HUTCHINSON, W. J.,
1707 Massachusetts Avenue.

HYDE, G. E.,
Geological Survey.

HYDE, JOHN,
2820 P Street.

IARDELLA, C. T., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

INGRAHAM, PROF. E. S., c,
Seattle, Wash.

JACKSON, REV. DR. SHELDON,
1830 Ninth Street.

JENNEY, DR. W. P.,
Geological Survey.

JENNINGS, J. H., a,
Geological Survey.

JEWETT, W. P., c,

180 E. Third Street, St. Paul, Minn.

JOHNSON, MISS ALICE BURGES,
501 Maple Avenue.

JOHNSON, A. B., a,
Light House Board.

JOHNSON, E. KURTZ,
1600 Massachusetts Avenue.

JOHNSON, DR. H. L. E.,
1400 L Street.

JOHNSON, J. B.,
Howard University.

JOHNSON, REV. J. G.,
381 Dearborn Avenue, Chicago, Ill.

JOHNSON, JEROME F.,
1326 F Street.

JOHNSON, MRS. MARY DAVIS, c,
Sitka, Alaska.

JOHNSON, STUART P.,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

JOHNSON, WILLARD D., a,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

JUDD, JOHN G.,
420 Eleventh Street.

JUDSON, EGBERT, c,
402 Front Street, San Francisco, Cal.

JUNKEN, CHARLES,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

JUNKEN, CHAS. A.,
Ordnance Office, War Department.

JÜSSEN, EDMUND,
In care W. Tudor, Temple, Ga.

KARL, ANTON, a,
1230 Eleventh Street.

KAUFFMANN, S. H., a,
1421 Massachusetts Avenue.

KAVANAUGH, MISS K.,
Sixth Auditor's Office.

KENASTON, PROF. C. A., a,
Room 4, 26 Court Street, Brooklyn, N. Y.

KENDALL, MISS ELIZABETH, c,
Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass.

KENNAN, GEORGE, a,
In care J. B. Pond, Everett House, New York, N. Y.

KENNEDY, DR. GEO. G., l,
284 Warren Street, Roxbury, Mass.

KENNON, LIEUT. L. W. V., U. S. A.,
War Department.

KERR, H. S., c,
Salt Lake, Utah.

KERR, MARK B., a,
402 Front Street, San Francisco, Cal.

KIMBALL, E. F.,
Post Office Department.

KIMBALL, DR. E. S.,
737 Thirteenth Street.

KIMBALL, S. I., a,
Life Saving Service.

KING, PROF. F. H.,
1500 University Avenue, Madison, Wis.

KING, PROF. HARRY, a,
Geological Survey.

KING, WM. B.,
1328 Twelfth Street.

KLAKRING, ALFRED,
Hydrographic Office.

KLOTZ, OTTO J., c,
Interior Department, Preston, Ontario, Canada.

KNAPP, HON. LYMAN E.,
Sitka, Alaska.

KOCH, PETER, a,
Bozeman, Mont.

KRAMER, WILLIAM,

KÜBEL, S. J.,
Geological Survey.

LACKLAND, W. E., a,
Geological Survey.

LADD, GEORGE E.,
Melrose Highlands, Mass.

LAMBERT, M. B.,
Geological Survey.

LAMBORN, DR. ROBERT H.,
32 Nassau Street, New York, N. Y.

LAWSON, PROF. A. C.,
University of California, Berkeley, Cal.

LAWSON, MISS JEANNE W.,
1231 New Hampshire Avenue.

LEACH, BOYNTON,
Hydrographic Office.

LEVERETT, FRANK, c,
U. S. Geological Survey, Madison, Wis.

LIBBEY, PROF. WILLIAM, JR., c,
20 Bayard Avenue, Princeton, N. J.

LINCOLN, JOHN J.,
Geological Survey.

LINDENKOHL, A., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

LINDENKOHL, H., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

LINDSLEY, WM. L., c,
Corner Banner and Republican Streets, Seattle, Wash.

LITTLEHALES, G. W.,
928 Twenty-third Street.

LOOKER, HENRY B.,
918 F Street.

LOOKER, THOS. H., U. S. N.,
1312 Thirtieth Street.

LOOMIS, HENRY B., c,
Seattle, Wash.

LOVELL, W. H.,
Geological Survey.

LYONS, JOSEPH,
1003 F Street.

MCCARTENEY, LIEUT. CHAS. M., U. S. N.,
Hydrographic Office.

MCCRACKEN, R. H., c,
P. O. Box 495, San Antonio, Tex.

MCGEE, MRS. ANITA NEWCOMB,
2410 Fourteenth Street.

MCGEE, W J, a,
Geological Surrey.

MCGILL, MISS MARY C.,
336 C Street.

MCGRATH, JOHN E.,

Coast and Geodetic Survey.

MCKEE, REDICK H., a,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

MCKINNEY, R. C., a,
Geological Survey.

MCLAUGHLIN, DR. T. N.,
1226 N Street.

MACKAYE, J. M., c.
Shirley, Mass.

MAHER, JAMES A., a,
P. O. Box 35, Johnson City, Tenn.

MANNING, VAN. H., JR., a,
Geological Survey.

MARINDIN, HENRY L.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

MARKS, DR. A. J., c,
419 Madison Street, Toledo, O.

MARSHALL, R. B.,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

MASON, PROF. O. T.,
1777 Massachusetts Avenue.

MATTHEWS, DR. W., U. S. A., a,
Fort Wingate, N. M.

MELVILLE, ENG. IN CHIEF GEO. W., U. S. N., a, l,
Navy Department.

MENDENHALL, DR. T. C.,

Coast and Geodetic Survey.

MENOCAL, CIV. ENG. A. G., U. S. N., a,
44 Wall Street, New York, N. Y.

MERRIAM, DR. C. HART, a,
Department of Agriculture.

MERRILL, PROF. J. A., c,
State Normal School, Warrensburg, Mo.

MESTON, R. D.,
1227 L Street.

METZGER, F. P.,
Geological Survey.

MILEY, A. E.,
Sixth Auditor's Office.

MINDELEFF, MME. JULIE,
1401 Stoughton Street.

MINDELEFF, VICTOR,
Ohio National Bank Building.

MITCHELL, PROF. HENRY, a,
18 Hawthorne Street, Roxbury, Mass.

MOSMAN, A. T., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

MUIR, PROF. JOHN,
Martinez, Cal.

MUIR, ENS. W. C. P., U. S. N.,
In care Hon. J. L. Beckham, Shelbyville, Ky.

MUNROE, HERSEY,
Geological Survey.

MURLIN, A. E.,
Geological Survey.

MURRAY, B. P.,
10 Third Street NE.

NELL, LOUIS, a,
Geological Survey.

NEWELL, F. H.,
Geological Survey.

NILES, PROF. WM. H.,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.

NORDHOFF, CHARLES, a,
Coronado, Cal.

NORMAN-NERUDA, L., c,
Devonshire Club, St. James Street, London, England.

NORTHUP, C. G.,
U. S. Senate.

NOYES, CROSBY S.,
1101 Pennsylvania Avenue.

OGDEN, HERBERT G., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

O'HALLORAN, T. M.,
Hydrographic Office.

O'HARE, DANIEL P.,
Geological Survey.

OLDRINI, PROF. ALEXANDER,
1437 L Street.

OLNEY, CHAS. F.,
137 Jennings Avenue, Cleveland, O.

OSBORN, LIEUT. A. P., U. S. N., c,
Navy Pay Office, San Francisco, Cal.

OSBORNE, DR. GEO. L., c,
State Normal School, Warrensburg, Mo.

OTIS, HAMILTON, c,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.

OTIS, WILLIAM H.,
U. S. Geological Survey, Berkeley, Cal.

PALMER, T. S.,
Department of Agriculture.

PARKER, E. W.,
Geological Survey.

PARSONS, FRANCIS H., a,
210 First Street SE.

PEALE, DR. A. C., a,
Geological Survey.

PEARY, CIV. ENG. R. E., U. S. N.,
Navy Department.

PELLEW, HENRY E.,
1637 Massachusetts Avenue.

PENROSE, R. A. F., JR.,

1331 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, Pa.

PERKINS, E. T., JR., a,
Geological Survey.

PETERS, EUGENE,
458 Pennsylvania Avenue.

PETERS, LIEUT. G. H., U. S. N., a,
Navy Department.

PETERS, WILLIAM J., a,
Geological Survey.

PETROFF, IVAN, c,
2148 Pennsylvania Avenue.

PHILLIPS, ASA E.,
District Engineer Department.

PHILLIPS, R. HENRY,
Room 110, 1419 New York Avenue.

PICKERING, PROF. EDWARD C.,
Harvard Observatory, Cambridge, Mass.

PICKING, CAPT. HENRY F., U. S. N.,
Navy Department.

PIERCE, JOSIAH, JR.,
11 South Street, Baltimore, Md.

POLLOK, ANTHONY,
620 F Street.

*POND, EDWIN J.,

POWELL, MAJ. J. W., a,

Geological Survey.

POWELL, PROF. W. B., a,
Franklin School.

PRENTISS, DR. D. WEBSTER, a,
1101 Fourteenth Street.

PRINCE, HON. L. BRADFORD, c,
Santa Fe, N. M.

PROWELL, GEO. R., c,
Hanover, Pa.

PUMPELLY, PROF. RAPHAEL,
U. S. Geological Survey, Newport, R. I.

RAMSEY, F. M., c,
Lampasas, Tex.

RANKIN, REV. DR. J. E.,
Howard University.

REID, PROF. HARRY FIELDING, c,
Case School of Applied Science, Cleveland, O.

RENSHAWE, JNO. H., a,
Geological Survey.

RICE, PROF. WM. NORTH, c,
Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn.

RICHARDSON, DR. C. W.,
1102 L Street.

RICHARDSON, T. J., c,
734 E. Fifteenth Street, Minneapolis, Minn.

RICHMOND, CHAS. W.,
In care U. S. Consul, Greytown, Nicaragua.

RICHTER, MISS C. M.,
330 A Street SE.

RICKSECKER, EUGENE, a, c,
P. O. Box 289, Seattle, Wash.

RITTER, H. P., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

RIZER, COL. H. C.,
Geological Survey.

ROBBINS, A. G., c,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.

ROBERTS, A. C., a,
Hydrographic Office.

ROCHESTER, GEN. WM. B., U. S. A.,
1320 Eighteenth Street.

ROCK, MILES,
1430 Chapin Street.

ROGERS, JNO. B., c,
Columbia Athletic Club.

ROTCH, A. LAWRENCE,
3 Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, Mass.

RUSSEL, LIEUT. EDGAR, U. S. A., c,
Fort Sam Houston, San Antonio, Tex.

RUSSELL, ISRAEL C., a,
Geological Survey.

SANDERS, HENRY P.,
1504 Twenty-first Street.

SARGENT, PROF. C. S., a,
Brookline, Mass.

SCHAAP, C. H., c,
P. O. Box 32, Sitka, Alaska.

SCHLEY, CAPT. W. S., U. S. N., a,
Navy Department.

SCHMIDT, FRED. A.,
504 Ninth Street.

SCHMITT, EWALD,
2235 Thirteenth Street.

SCHWATKA, FREDERICK, c,
1108 First Avenue, Rock Island, Ill.

SCIDMORE, MISS ELIZA RUHAMAH,
1502 Twenty-first Street.

SCOTT, W. O. N.,
603 Fifteenth Street.

SCUDDER, PROF. S. H., a,
Cambridge, Mass.

SHALER, PROF. N. S., a,
25 Quincy Street, Cambridge, Mass.

SHEPARD, PROF. EDWARD M.,
Drury College, Springfield, Mo.

SHEPARD, J. L. N., c,

402 Front Street, San Francisco, Cal.

SHEPARD, CAPT. L. G., U. S. R. M.,
Treasury Department.

SINCLAIR, C. H.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

SINCLAIR, J. C.,
718 Arch Street, Philadelphia, Pa.

SLOAN, ROBERT S., c,
Oswego. N. Y.

SMITH, EDWIN, a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

SMITH, REV. ERNEST C., c,
Framingham, Mass.

SMITH, PROF. EUGENE A., c,
University, Ala.

SMITH, MIDDLETON, a,
P. O. Box 572.

SMOCK, DR. J. C., c,
State Geological Survey, Trenton, N. J.

SNELL, MERWIN-MARIE,
Catholic University of America.

SOMMER, E. J., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

SPENCER, JAS. W.,
Geological Survey.

STANLEY-BROWN, JOSEPH,
Geological Survey.

STANWOOD, JAMES HUGH, c,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.

STEDMAN, J. M., c,
Trinity University, Durham, N. C.

STEIN, ROBERT,
Geological Survey.

STOCKTON, LT. COMDR. CHARLES H., U. S. N., a, c,
Naval War College, Newport, R. I.

STONE, JAMES S., c,
131 Vernon Street, Newton, Mass.

SUTTON, FRANK,
Geological Survey.

SWAN, HON. JAMES G., c,
Port Townsend, Wash.

TALBOT, MRS. LAURA OSBORNE,
927 P Street.

TARR, R. S., c,
Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

TAYLOR, DANIEL F.,
918 F Street.

TAYLOR, JAS. L.,
1515 Twentieth Street.

THOMAS, MISS MARY VON E., a,
235 New Jersey Avenue SE.

THOMPSON, PROF. A. H., a,
Geological Survey.

THOMPSON, GILBERT, a,
Geological Survey.

THOMPSON, LAURENCE, a,
1628 S Street.

THOMPSON, CAPT. R. E., U. S. A., a,
War Department.

THOMPSON, J. W.,
1419 I Street.

TISDELL, WILLARD P.,
1323 Thirteenth Street.

TITTMANN, O. H., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

TOWNSEND, MRS. JULIA C.,
1316 R Street.

TOWSON, R. M., a,
Geological Survey.

TURNER, J. HENRY,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

TWEEDY, FRANK, a,
Geological Survey.

URQUHART, CHAS. F., a,
Geological Survey.

VAN HISE, PROF. C. R., l,

U. S. Geological Survey, Madison, Wis.

VASEY, DR. GEORGE, a,
Department of Agriculture.

VERGES, L. F., c,
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass.

VINAL, W. IRVING, a,
1106 A Street NE.

VIVIAN, THOMAS J.,
212 New Jersey Avenue.

WADDEY, JOHN A.,
Hydrographic Office.

WADHAMS, LIEUT. A. V., U. S. N., c,
Andover, Mass.

WALCOTT, CHAS. D., a,
National Museum.

WALKER, ELTON D., c,
Fort Sheridan, Ill.

WALLACE, HAMILTON S., a,
Geological Survey.

WANAMAKER, HON. JOHN,
1731 I Street.

WARD, PROF. HENRY A., c,
10 College Avenue, Rochester, N. Y.

WARD, LESTER F., a,
1464 Rhode Island Avenue.

WARD, ROBERT DEC.,
Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.

WARDER, B. H.,
1515 K Street.

WARTEGG, ERNST VON HESSE, c,
Bern, Switzerland.

WEED, WALTER HARVEY, a,
Geological Survey.

WEIR, JOHN B., a,
The Fredonia.

WELD GEO. F.,
Metropolitan Club.

WELLING, DR. JAMES C., a,
1302 Connecticut Avenue.

WELLS, E. HAZARD,
The "Post," Cincinnati, O.

WEST, PRESTON C. F., c,
Calumet, Mich.

WHITE, DR. C. H., U. S. N.,
In care A. B. Gilman, Haverhill, Mass.

WHITE, DAVID,
Geological Survey.

WHITING, HENRY L.,
U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey, West Tisbury, Mass.

WILDER, GEN. J. T., a, l,
Johnson City, Tenn.

WILDER, MISS MARY,
Johnson City, Tenn.

WILLENBÜCHER, EUGENE,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

WILLENBÜCHER, W. C.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

WILLIAMS, CHARLES AUGUSTUS,
1301 Eighteenth Street.

WILLIAMS, DR. GEO. H.,
803 Cathedral Street, Baltimore, Md.

WILLIAMS, PROF. H. S., c,
Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y.

WILLIAMS, WILLIAM, c,
University Club, New York, N. Y.

WILLIS, BAILEY, a,
Geological Survey.

WILLIS, MRS. BAILEY,
1006 Twenty-second Street.

WILLITS, HON. EDWIN,
Department of Agriculture.

WILSON, H. M., a,
Geological Survey.

WILSON, THOMAS,
1218 Connecticut Avenue.

WINCHELL, PROF. N. H., c,

120 State Street, Minneapolis, Minn.

WINES, M. W.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

WINSLOW, PROF. ARTHUR,
State Geological Survey, Jefferson City, Mo.

WINSTON, ISAAC,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

WINTER, DR. JOHN T.,
1528 Ninth Street.

*WOODWARD, A. E.,

WOODWARD, R. S., a,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

WRIGHT, ENS. BENJAMIN, U. S. N.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

YEATES, CHAS. M., a, c,
404½ Liberty Street, Winston, N. C.

YOUNG, F. A.,
Coast and Geodetic Survey.

Summary.

Active members 373
Corresponding members 95
Life members 6
Total 474

VOL. III, PP 1–30, PL 1 MARCH 28, 1891.

THE

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.

SOUTH AMERICA.
ANNUAL ADDRESS BY THE PRESIDENT,

GARDINER G. HUBBARD.

(Presented to the Society December 19, 1890.)

Two years ago I selected for my annual address Africa, or the Dark Continent;
last year Asia, the Land of Mountains and Deserts; this year I have chosen
South America, the Land of Rivers and Pampas.

NAT GEOG. MAG. VOL. III, 1891, PL. 1.

From the International Cylopedia, by permission of Dodd, Mead & Company.

The recent meeting of the Pan-American Congress has called attention to
South America, a part of our continent under republican forms of
government and rich in products which we lack, while it relies mainly on
other foreign countries for goods which we manufacture. North America
and South America should be more closely united, for the one is the
complement of the other.

The prominent features of South America are its long ranges of mountains
—next to the Himalayas the highest in the world,—its great valley, and its
immense plateau extending from the Straits of Magellan to the Caribbean
sea.

THE MOUNTAINS.

The Andes rise in the extreme south at Cape Horn, run in a northerly course
through Patagonia and southern Chili; thence continuing in three nearly
parallel ranges, the western chain called the Andes, the others known as the
Cordilleras, through Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador to Colombia. The
Cordilleras and the Andes are connected in several places by knots or cross-
chains of mountains. In Colombia the Andes turn to the northwest, reaching
their lowest elevation at the Panama canal, and continue thence, through
Central America and North America as the Rocky Mountains, to the Arctic
ocean. Near the source of the Magdalena and Cauca rivers in Colombia, the
eastern range is deflected to the east along the northern coast of South
America. The central range disappears between the Magdalena and Cauca
rivers.

The Andes form the water-shed of the continent. The waters on the western
slope flow into the Pacific ocean. The rivers that rise on the eastern slope, in
northern Peru and Ecuador, force their way through the Cordilleras and at
their foot drain the montaña of Bolivia, Peru and Brazil. In the southern part
of Peru and upper Chili there is a broad sierra or plateau, at an elevation of
from twelve to fourteen thousand feet. The streams that rise in this sierra
either empty into salt or alkaline lakes or sink into the ground.

Unlike all other long ranges of mountains, the continental or eastern side of
the Cordilleras is nearly as precipitous as that extending to the Pacific.
Craters of extinct volcanoes and volcanoes now in eruption are found in all
parts of the chain. In Ecuador there are fifty-two volcanoes, and twenty of
these, covered with perpetual snow and presided over by Chimborazo and
Cotopaxi, rise out of a group of mountains encircling the valley of Quito,
and are all visible from a single point. Three are active and five others have
been in eruption at one or more times since the conquest. One of these,
Sangai, is the most active volcano on the globe: it sends forth a constant
stream of fire, water, mud and ashes, and some assert that it has done so
without intermission for 300 years; 267 explosions have been counted in
one hour. This is also the land of earthquakes: in 1868, 50,000 lives, we are
told, were lost in one day; the tremor was felt over four countries and from
the Andes to the Sandwich Islands. The tidal wave washed a gunboat of the
United States on shore at Arica in lower Peru, 1000 miles to the south, and
sixteen hours later the wave was felt across the Pacific at New Zealand.

A range of mountains separates Eastern Venezuela and Guiana from the
valley of the Amazon. Other ranges south of the Amazon run
southwestwardly, following the Atlantic coast line from Cape St. Roque to
the Rio de la Plata.

RIVER SYSTEMS.

A great oceanic current flows along the western coast of Africa to the
equator, where it is deflected across the Atlantic ocean and becomes the
equatorial current. On reaching the coast of South America near Cape St.
Roque, it is again deflected north and south. Trade winds blowing over the
equatorial current reach the coast at Brazil surcharged with vapor; as they
follow up the valley of the Amazon the vapors are partially condensed and
frequent showers refresh the land; but when the clouds at the foot-hills of
the Andes meet the colder winds from the south and strike the snow
summits of the Cordilleras, all the moisture is condensed, and the rain falls
in tropical showers for half the year and waters the largest and richest valley
in the world.

In this valley, among the Cordilleras, three great rivers—the Orinoco, the
Amazon and La Plata—rise. The mountain ranges north and south of the
Amazon divide this great valley into three lesser valleys, down which the
Orinoco, the Amazon and La Plata flow, watering three-fourths of South
America.

The Orinoco.

The headwaters of the Orinoco rise in two ranges of mountains; the
Cordilleras in the west, and the mountains of Venezuela many hundred
miles to the east. Four hundred tributaries, abounding in beautiful falls and
cataracts, unite to form this great river.

The whole valley for 1600 miles is filled with dense and tangled forests.
Noble trees of unrivalled beauty blossom in endless prodigality. Birds of
gorgeous plumage nestle in their lofty recesses. Tall ferns, vines, creeping
plants and parasites form a dense tangle of undergrowth, swarming with
life. Myriads of insects in great variety, reptiles of strange and singular
form, lizards and venemous serpents find their homes and sustenance in the
wild, dense mass of vegetation.

The Amazon.

The valley of the Amazon collects its waters from a region 1800 miles wide
from north to south and 2500 miles long from the Andes to the Atlantic
ocean. Even at the foot of the Andes the Amazon is a mighty river. The
valley rapidly narrows to a width of 600 or 700 miles, and then more
gradually to the ocean, where it is only 150 miles wide. Its total fall from
the foot-hills of the Andes to the Atlantic is very slight, not over three or
four hundred feet, and probably considerably less.

The rims of the valley are formed of diorite and sandstone, and are raised
only a little above the flood-plain, which is formed of mud and silt, the
detritus brought down by the Amazon and its tributaries. The flood-plain is
from fifty to one hundred miles wide, gradually narrowing as it approaches
the ocean. Through this valley the Amazon cuts its way, separating often

into channels which sometimes run parallel to each other for several
hundred miles, frequently forming large islands, or expanding into lakes.
Similar flood-plains are found on all its larger tributaries.

Up from the ocean into this valley an immense tidal wave rolls, with a bore,
twice a day, forcing back the current of the Amazon 500 miles and
inundating a portion of the flood-plain.

In the early autumn the equatorial rise commences in the headwaters of its
tributaries, far south of the equator. The rains and melting snow raise the
streams, and these the waters of the Amazon. As the sun crosses the equator
and moves to the north the rain follows its course, and the branches that
have their source in the east and northeast add their flood to the waters of
the southerly branches. The flood in the Amazon is thus continued for
nearly six months, raising its waters from 30 to 50 feet. The channels are
filled, and the flood-plains are overflowed. The whole valley becomes a
net-work of navigable waters, with islands and channels and lakes
innumerable, forming a great inland sea, which the Brazilians call the
Mediterranean of America. The upland, though only a little above the flood-
plain, is rarely overflowed.

The plants and animals of the flood-plain were formerly considered as
distinct from those of the upland as are the plants and animals of Europe
from those of America; but later investigations show that there is but little
difference between the species.

The sea breeze blows up the valley about a thousand miles. Then for 1500
miles the atmosphere is stagnant and sultry; the climate is that of a
permanent vapor bath. The dense foliage forms dark, lofty vaults which the
sunlight never penetrates, and over all hangs a perpetual mist. The
abundance and beauty of vegetation increases, and the trees which at the
mouth of the river blossom only once a year, here bloom and bear fruit all
the year round.

Many great rivers run into the Amazon from the north and the south, most
of them navigable, for many hundred miles. The Madeira, its greatest
tributary, after running 2000 miles, empties into the king of rivers, without
making any perceptible difference in its width or depth.

This mighty current, rushing into the ocean, meets the equatorial current
and for over one hundred miles keeps on nearly a straight course, when the
stronger and mightier oceanic current deflects it to the north. At from 200 to
300 miles from land, the sea is strongly tinged, and in April and May has
nearly the clay-yellow hue of the Amazon. And even further north, about
400 miles from its mouth, the naturalist on the Amazon tells us, "we passed
numerous patches of floating grass mingled with tree trunks and withered
foliage; among these I espied many fruits of the Amazonian palm. And this
was the last I saw of the Amazon."

The Rio de la Plata.

The La Plata, the outlet of the waters of central South America, is formed
by the union of the Uruguay and Parana, about 150 miles from the ocean; a
little lower down, at Montevideo, it is 62 miles wide and widens rapidly to
the Atlantic, where it discharges more water than all the rivers of Europe.
The tributaries of the Parana are fan-shaped. Its most eastern branches rise
in the mountains of Brazil, within seventy miles of the Atlantic ocean; and
1500 miles away, on the other side of the continent, its most western
tributaries rise only 125 miles from the Pacific.

Steamers ascend the Parana, Paraguay and Cuyaba, 2100 miles to Cuyaba,
and the river with its branches is navigable for 5000 miles.

The San Francisco.

The San Francisco, about 1800 miles long, rises near Rio de Janeiro and
flows north about 1200 miles between parallel ranges of mountains, then
turns east and forces its way through the coast range to the Atlantic ocean. It
runs through the gold and diamond regions of Brazil, and has a considerable
population along its banks. It has many falls and rapids, and considerable
slack-water navigation.

GENERAL DESCRIPTION.

In Asia, the different countries have natural boundaries; the people, soil and
climate of one country are unlike those of others. In Europe there are few
natural boundaries, though different races inhabit the several states.

In South America only one dominant race is found, and though natural
boundaries exist, yet they do not serve as boundaries to the different states,
other than Venezuela and Guiana. Venezuela and Guiana are watered by the
Orinoco and by several rivers that flow from the Amazonian mountains to
the ocean. The whole coast is low and fertile, but hot and unhealthy. The
principal product is sugar, raised by negroes and coolies. The interior is
sultry and thickly wooded; it is inhabited by Indian tribes, the principal of
which are the cannibal Caribs, and by negroes as uncivilized as any of the
tribes in Africa. Guiana is controlled by the English, French, and Dutch.
Cayenne, the prison for French convicts, is the capital of French Guiana.

Colombia and Ecuador occupy the northwestern part of South America.
They are situated on both sides of the Andes, and have every variety of
climate. The country is well watered; fertile but unhealthy on the coast,
fertile and healthy on the elevated plains, cold and barren on the mountains.

In Brazil, besides the Amazon, La Plata and San Francisco, there are several
large rivers with fertile valleys; but occasional droughts, sometimes lasting
for two years, will prevent portions of Brazil from becoming densely
inhabited.

On the Pacific coast south of Ecuador, the rainfall becomes less and less.
For three thousand miles along the coast of Peru and Chili there is no
natural harbor; a plain from ten to fifty miles in width extends from the
Pacific to the foot-hills of the Andes. The Antarctic current runs along this
coast; the southeasterly winds blow over it on to the land and cool the air;
but as the winds are of low temperature their scanty vapor is dissipated by
the heat radiated from the land, and not a drop of rain refreshes the thirsty
soil. Many mountain torrents run from the snow-clad summits of the Andes,
and the beauty of their narrow valleys forms a grateful contrast to the dry
and barren sands of the plain.

In the southern part of Chili and in that part formerly called Patagonia, rain
is abundant and the country is fertile.

The longest stretch of low and comparatively level land to be found in the
world extends through the center of South America. A boat starting from the
Caribbean sea could sail up the Orinoco over a thousand miles, then down
the Casquiare, which runs from the Orinoco into the Rio Negro, down that
river to the Amazon, up the Amazon to the Madeira, then up that river and
one of its branches through Brazil and Bolivia, and with a short portage of
six and a half miles to one of the branches of the Paraguay, down the
Paraguay and La Plata to the ocean.

The level land crosses the La Plata and continues southward through the
Argentine Republic and Patagonia to the Straits of Magellan. Within this
plain lie all the interior of Venezuela and Brazil, a part of Bolivia, all
Paraguay, Uruguay, and the Argentine Republic. The pampas resemble our
prairies, but run from north to south, while the prairies run from east to
west.

The streams in the plain south of the valley of the La Plata rise in the Andes
and flow southeastward to the Atlantic.

THE ABORIGINES.

The aborigines of America, except the Esquimaux, are unlike the natives of
other countries; the most marked difference is in their language. They are
divided into a number of tribes differing from each other in some respects,
yet with manners, customs and religious beliefs generally similar.

In South America there are more than one hundred distinct languages, and
two thousand dialects. About five or six million Indians have as many
dialects as are found among the 800,000,000 inhabitants of Europe and
Asia. Their languages are polysynthetic, being of a higher type than the
agglutinative languages. In the polysynthetic tongue the substantive,
adjective and verb are joined or combined, and oftentimes a whole sentence
will be comprised in a single word.

The natives in the valleys of the Orinoco and Amazon are forced to
cultivate a little ground on the flood-plains, as the forests are thick and
impenetrable. They live principally on the fruit of the palm (of which there

are five hundred varieties), cocoa and bananas, fish and turtles. There are no
roads or paths through the forests except the numerous channels of the
rivers, called igarapes or furos. The tribes on the pampas live principally on
game and wild cattle.

Humboldt tells us that the navigator on the Orinoco sees with surprise at
night the palm trees illuminated by large fires. From the trunks of these
trees are suspended the habitations of a tribe of Indians, who make their
fires on mats hung in the air and filled with moist clay. The same palm tree
furnishes also food and wine and clothing, and thus supplies every want and
even the luxuries of life.

The Indian race as a whole is believed to be superior to both the negro and
the Malay, as neither of those races has ever attained to the civilization of
the Incas of Peru or of the Indians of Mexico and the Aztecs of Central
America. Many of their myths and folk tales are common, not only to the
Indians of one part of the country, but also to other tribes in distant parts of
the continent, and even to the negroes of Africa, and the Arabs of upper
Egypt. All the tribes on the continent have substantially the same habits of
life, the same methods of warfare, the same general characteristics, and a
language built substantially on the same plan.

From these observations it might seem that the Indian tribes of South
America were allied to those of Africa or to the Malays, but on further
consideration the similarity seems due rather to a like stage of civilization
than to identity of race.

THE INCAS OF PERU.

In crossing from Arequipa in Peru to La Paz in Bolivia, the road ascends the
Andes, makes a slight descent into the barren, desolate valley between the
Andes and Cordilleras, crosses Lake Titicaca, and then descends to La Paz.
Lake Titicaca, the largest lake of South America, is on a plateau between
twelve and thirteen thousand feet in height, the most elevated table land on
the globe, excepting Thibet. This lake is surrounded by lofty, snow-clad
mountains, the highest of which is Illampa, 22,300 feet in height.

On this lake are the remains of the most ancient civilization of South
America. Cyclopean ruins of temples and fortresses stand as perpetual
monuments of a vanished culture; when and by whom they were erected,
we know not; their builders left no other record of their existence. The
wandering Indians told the first Spaniards that they existed before the sun
shone in the heavens. From one of the rocky islands of Lake Titicaca, about
the year 1000 or 1100, the Sun, parent of mankind and giver of every good
gift, taking compassion on the degraded condition of the Indians, sent two
of his children, Manco Capac and Mama Oello Huaco, to gather the
wandering tribes into communities, to teach them the arts of civilized life
and to inculcate the worship of the Sun. From Lake Titicaca, this brother
and sister, husband and wife, went down the valley to Cuzco, where they
were bidden to found an empire. Manco Capac was thus the first Inca.
There were ten or twelve Incas before the conquest of Peru. Their conquests
extended through the entire valley of the Cordilleras, until over four
hundred tribes, with a population of many millions, became subject to their
dominion.

The territory of the Incas extended from the southern part of Chili
northward into Colombia, beyond Quito, a distance of two thousand miles,
and west to the Pacific Ocean. On the eastern slope of the Cordilleras,
toward the great plain of the Amazon, the Incas met a stronger and more
savage people, with whom they were in constant warfare. In the several
passes of the Cordilleras they constructed fortifications to protect their
borders and prevent invasion.

The capital of the territory, Cuzco, was situated in a beautiful valley ten
thousand feet above the sea. Amidst the Alps, such a valley would be buried
in eternal snow, but within the tropics it enjoys a perpetual spring. Here the
Incas loved to dwell, and remains of immense fortresses, palaces and
temples, testify to their power and culture, and to the number of their
subjects. Tens of thousands of laborers must have been required to construct
such edifices. When we reflect that these people had no beasts of burden
except the llama, which could only carry light loads, and no mechanical
means for transporting the vast blocks of stone used in constructing these
buildings, we are astonished at what they accomplished. The pyramids of
Egypt are not more wonderful.

Great highways were built, running north, south and west, connecting
different parts of the Empire. One followed the valley between the
Cordilleras and Andes to Quito, another crossed the Andes and followed the
sea-coast north and south to the extreme limits of their country. All
traveling was on foot. Large and comfortable tambos, or inns, were erected
every few miles, and larger ones at the end of a day's journey. Couriers were
stationed at regular intervals, each of whom had his allotted station,
between which and the next it was his duty to run at a certain pace bearing
his message, and on his approach to the next station he signalled to the next
chasquir, as the couriers were called, to be ready to carry forward the
message. In this way, it is said, about 150 miles a day were made.

These couriers traveled more quickly than the mail-carriers of Europe, and
the means of communication were then, Squier tells us, far better than they
are to-day. Many of these old tambos are still maintained. One in which
Squier spent the night was 180 feet in length, with rooms forming three
sides of a court.

The country of the Incas had every variety of climate, and the products
were those of every part of the new world. On the coast, perpetual summer
reigns, with all the variety and beauty of tropical vegetation. At a higher
elevation, the trees are always green, and while one kind sheds its blossoms
and ripens its fruit another is budding and unfolding its bloom. Meantime,
on the top of the mountains is eternal winter. In some places, as at Potosi,
the changes of temperature are frequent and extremes of heat and cold are
experienced in a single day. The weather in the early morning is frosty; in
the forenoon, mild and balmy; in the afternoon, scorching, and in the
evening, cool and delicious.

On the Pacific slope of the Andes, reservoirs were constructed, from which
irrigating canals watered the whole plain now lying desolate and barren.

The conquered tribes were incorporated into the nation and became the
people of the Incas. If the conquered tribe was strong and warlike, some of
its members were removed to distant parts of the country and were replaced
by the inhabitants of those regions, to whom privileges and immunities
were given as compensation for the change of home. The conquered tribes

quickly realized the benefits of the rule of the Incas and became faithful and
loyal subjects.

The government of the Incas was a paternal despotism controlling the most
minute affairs of daily life. Knowledge, the Incas taught, "was not intended
for the people, but for those of generous ability, for it would render persons
of low degree vain and arrogant."

The Incas established a communal system similar to that of Russia. One-
third of the land belonged to the Inca, one-third to the priests of the Sun,
and the remainder to the people, who were required to cultivate the land of
the Inca and of the priests, as well as their own. The land was divided
among the families yearly, according to their number. Every newly married
couple received a stated portion which was increased as the family
increased.

Their only means of writing was by a cord, called quippus, about two feet
long, composed of threads of different colors twisted together, from which a
quantity of smaller threads hung like a knotted fringe. The colors denoted
sensible objects or sometimes abstract ideas, though the principal use of the
quippus was for arithmetical purposes.

The civilization of the Incas appears to have been of a higher order than that
of the Mexicans. It is not probable that hieroglyphics were in use among
any of the South American Indians, though it is said that traces of a pictorial
alphabet have been found. The people were contented and happy, although
they were deprived of personal liberty, although their daily life was
supervised by their rulers, and although they held only communal rights of
property. They had neither ambition nor strong love of country.

When Pizarro landed in Peru there were two Incas, one at Cuzco and the
other at Quito, and the bitter conflict which was raging between them made
the conquest of both easy. Pizarro had only 180 followers, but they were
Spanish cavaliers, carrying fire-arms; and with this small force he
overturned the Incas and enslaved the people. The descendants of the
Quichuas, or the people of the Incas, still inhabit the land—a mild,
apathetic, servile and dejected race. It is said that after the conquest the

women put on a black mantle, which they have worn ever since, as
perpetual mourning for the last of the Incas.

There are a few descendants of Spaniards in Peru, but the population
consists chiefly of the descendants of the Quichuas and mixed Spaniards
and Quichuas. The Peruvians of to-day are less civilized than those who
lived 400 years ago; they have less liberty and are poorer.

DISCOVERY OF THE AMAZON.

Great rivers have usually been discovered and explored by ascending them
from the ocean to their sources; the Congo and the Amazon were explored
downward from their sources to the ocean.

Three hundred and fifty years ago, Gonzalo Pizarro, then governor of Upper
Peru, heard of a land of silver and gold, spices and precious stones; a land
where spring reigned and all tropical fruits abounded. He determined to
follow the little stream which, rising in the Andes, near Quito, flowed
eastward; to explore the country, and find the happy land. He set out with
350 Cavaliers, mounted on Spanish horses and attended by 4000 Indian
slaves.

The first part of the route was easy; the little stream soon became a river,
then broadened into the Napo; but the farther they went, the slower and
more difficult was their progress as they passed from the open forest and
the cool and invigorating breezes of the Andes into the sultry valley of the
Napo. Their way now led through forests more dense, darker and more
impenetrable than those described by Stanley, for the valley of the Amazon
is richer than the valley of the Congo. Natives armed with poisoned arrows
opposed their progress; food became scarce, treachery was on every side,
and their number gradually diminished by death and by desertion of the
slaves.

The natives told them of a greater river than the Napo which they would
find a few days' voyage farther down. This river, they said, flowed through
a more populous and richer country, where food was abundant and gold was
found in every stream. Pizarro determined to build a bark and to send

Orellano as commander to find and return with food and succor. For this
vessel, the forests furnished the timber; the shoes of the horses were
converted into nails, distilled gum was used for pitch, and the garments of
the soldiers were a substitute for oakum. In two months, a brigantine was
launched, the first European vessel that ever floated on the waters of the
Amazon. The Napo grew broader and deeper as the little company rapidly
floated down, until it became a mile wide. Three days after they left Pizarro,
they saw before them a river, many times larger than the Napo, which the
Indians called Parana-tinega, King of Waters; but we call it the Amazon.
There was no cultivation, little food could be obtained, and the Indians were
hostile instead of friendly. What was to be done? Behind them was the
wilderness, before them the promised land. The journey back would be
difficult and dangerous; the temptation to explore the wonderful river was
too great to resist. One man alone was faithful to Pizarro, and he was left on
the bank while Orellano sailed down the river. The wonder of the explorers
daily increased as other rivers larger than the Napo flowed into the Amazon,
now on the north, more frequently on the south. Month after month passed,
the river grew so broad that they could not see from one side to the other.
Great islands were passed, channels running parallel with the main stream
larger than any river they had ever seen. Still on they went, till after several
months they reached the Atlantic Ocean. Then they sailed north in their
little boat, skirting the coast to Trinidad, where they found a vessel which
bore them to Spain. They recounted the story of the great river; the
wonderful country through which they passed; and the rich mines of which
they had heard. They told fabulous tales of the Amazonians they had
encountered, strong and masculine women, armed with bows and arrows,
living by themselves, admitting men into their country only one month in
the year, killing or sending away the male children and training the girls to
become amazons and warriors.

Orellano was received by the Queen; his treachery was forgotten and a new
expedition was sent out under his command; but he died before reaching the
river.

Meantime, Pizarro and his followers slowly and with difficulty made their
way down the Napo, taking as many months to reach the Amazon as
Orellano had taken days. They looked in vain for their companions, but

found only the solitary man who had been left behind, scarcely alive, and
from him learned of Orellano's desertion. Further explorations being
impossible, they turned back, reached Quito two years after their departure,
their horses gone, their arms broken or rusted, the skins of wild animals
their only clothing. "The charnel house seemed to have given up its dead, as
they glided onward like a troop of spectres." Half of the Indians had
perished, and of the three hundred and fifty cavaliers only eighty were left.

Such was the end of an expedition which for dangers and hardships, length
of duration, and constancy displayed is probably unmatched in the annals of
American discovery.

GUIANA.

Guiana is the only country of South America not inhabited by the Latin
race. It was acquired for Great Britain by one who acted contrary to his
instructions in attacking a power, Spain, with which his own country was at
peace.

Gonzalo Pizarro, on his journey down the Napo in 1539, heard wonderful
stories of a golden city far away on the banks of the Orinoco, surrounded by
mountains of gold. Rumors of this golden city were carried by English
navigators to Great Britain, with legends of a prince of Guiana, whose body,
first smeared with turpentine, was then powdered with gold dust, so that he
strode among his people a majestic golden statue. Adventurers started in
search of this El Dorado, some from Peru, others from Quito and from
Trinidad; but the golden city was never found. They, however, brought back
reports of chiefs whose bodies sparkled with gold dust as they danced, who
had golden eagles dangling from their breasts and great pearls from their
ears; they told of mines of diamonds and gold, and of the natives who
longed to exchange their jewels for jews-harps.

Sir Walter Raleigh determined to find this country and bring to his queen its
fabulous riches, for he believed that the silver and gold mines of Mexico
and Peru had made Spain the first state in Christendom—"that purchaseth
intelligence and creepeth into counsels and endangereth and disturbeth all
the nations of Europe."

In 1595, Sir Walter sailed from England and arrived at the Isle of Trinidad,
where he overthrew the Spaniards, then sailed up the Orinoco, or one of its
branches, four hundred miles, until hunger and sickness compelled him to
return. Although he did not reach the golden city, he could see the
mountains far in the distance which he believed surrounded it, and he found
the shining sand on the banks of the Orinoco. In Guiana he raised the flag
of England and compelled the Indians to swear fealty to his queen.

Twenty years later, a prisoner in the Tower, he was released in order to
make a second voyage in search of this El Dorado for King James. He
sailed in 1617, accompanied by his eldest son; but disaster and sickness met
him at every step. He reached the Orinoco again, too feeble to land. So his
son and Captain Keymis went instead. Keymis returned after a month of
exploration, bringing Raleigh the news of the death of his son in an attack
on a Spanish town. He brought reports of the golden city, of the mines of
gold, diamonds and emeralds, but neither gold, diamonds nor emeralds to
confirm the truth of these reports. Raleigh said, "I am undone;" Keymis
replied, "I know then, Sir, what course to take." He went to his cabin and
killed himself.

Raleigh returned to England, a broken down old man. The Spaniards
demanded his life of James as they had demanded it of Elizabeth after his
first expedition, on the ground that in time of peace Raleigh had attacked
the Spanish forces and invaded their country. Elizabeth had refused, but
James yielded. Raleigh was executed, but Guiana became an English
colony.

The gold and silver mines of Peru have failed; little gold has been found in
Guiana, but its rich and fertile soil, watered by tropical rains, has been a
source of greater wealth than the gold mines of Peru.

POPULATION OF SOUTH AMERICA.

As the countries of South America were all settled at about the same time
and by the same race and have passed through a like history, they can be
considered as a whole.

The United States and Canada, with a rough, uncongenial climate and
sterile soil, were settled by the Anglo-Saxons, the remainder of the western
continent by the Latin race and, excepting Brazil and Guiana, by Spaniards.
In North America the Anglo-Saxon race has dominated, carrying
civilization from the Atlantic to the Pacific, expelling and exterminating the
aborigines. There has been no mingling of the Anglo-Saxon and Indian
races, no backward step, but ever civil, religious and intellectual progress.
The Latin race conquered Central America and South America, a perfect
Eden of natural loveliness, one hundred years prior to the settlement of the
Anglo-Saxon; yet to-day they constitute but a thin layer over a scarcely
populated country. Their leaders were men of unbounded ambition,
rapacious, of great endurance, but cruel and unscrupulous. They sought
adventure, expecting it would bring them gold and silver. For that end they
plundered, despoiled and enslaved the Indians. Gold and silver flowed into
their hands; luxury, effeminacy, and weakness followed.

The Spaniards in America have scarcely retained the civilization they
brought from the old world. They have intermarried with the Indians, and
this mixed race is said to inherit the vices of each of their ancestors without
the virtues of either.

A sparse population, mostly Spanish and foreigners, inhabit a zone ten to
twenty miles in depth along the coast of South America, from the Bay of
Panama to the Caribbean sea. All the cities and settlements, excepting a few
in the Argentine Republic, are near the coast.

Back of this zone, on the Pacific, is a mixed Spanish-Indian population,
much larger than the Spanish and foreign population; and on the Atlantic a
population which is Spanish-Indian, Spanish-Negro, and Negro-Indian,
occupies a zone from twenty to one hundred miles wide. Beyond the first
zone a few Spanish families and foreigners are found at the gold and silver
mines, on the pampas, at the cattle ranches, and on a few haciendas in Peru
and Chili. In Brazil the Portuguese and some Englishmen and Germans
raise coffee and sugar, and oversee the diamond and gold fields. On the
Amazon there are a few small settlements to collect the India rubber and
cacao of that valley.

Save these sparse settlements, the interior of South America is inhabited by
wild tribes of Indians, uncivilized save for the presence of a few Catholic
priests, who have given the Indians the cross and the image of the Virgin
Mary, which they worship, mingling the Catholic religion with their old
idolatries and barbarous rites. The natives are believed to be more idle and
less civilized than when the Spaniards discovered America.

The Spaniards are the grandees of the country; too proud to work, they
leave all business to the foreigners and all labor to the Indians, retaining in
connection with the half-breeds all political power. When the regents
appointed by Spain were expelled in the early part of the present century,
republics were established, but they were republics only in name; the
people were neither educated nor fitted for self-government. Their
presidents generally exercised the powers of dictators and often assumed
that title. They have rarely enjoyed a long rule, for their power and position
were sought by others. Revolution in these countries has passed from the
acute to the chronic stage.

A recent traveller in Peru, who wished to inspect its railroad system, was
informed that only 26 miles were in running order, the remainder being
under the control of the revolutionists who were then less than 80 miles
from the capital. He asked why the rebels did not take Lima, the capital, and
was told, "because there is no unanimity among them; they are suspicious
of each other, and cannot depend upon any one man." Instead of being
anxious to serve their country they are only interested in robbing her.

Another traveller in Bolivia, who witnessed some of these revolutions, says
they sometimes occurred three times in as many weeks, and that it would
have been ludicrous had not their results been often violent and tragic.
There has been no settled government, no continued peace, no permanent
policy, in any Spanish country. The hope for the future is that the English,
German, and French population will increase and become permanently
identified with the country; they will then take an active interest in politics
and direct the policy and administration of the government.

Commercial and banking business is in the hands of the French, Germans,
and English. The Italians carry on a small trade at corner groceries and fruit

stores; the French keep the hotels and restaurants; the English and Germans
are the shippers, merchants and bankers.

Regular lines of English, French, and German steamers run from Europe to
Panama and thence along the western coast of South America, stopping at
ports en route; some return by Panama, others sail around Cape Horn to
Europe by Buenos Ayres and Rio Janeiro. Other lines run direct from
Europe to Brazil, and twenty-four lines connect Europe and the Argentine
Republic; while there are only four lines of American steamers trading to
South America.

BRAZIL.

We have given a general description of South America, but three countries
—Brazil, the Argentine Republic and Peru—require further notice: Brazil,
because it is the largest country, occupying three-sevenths of South
America, and the only considerable state that was not settled by the
Spaniards; the Argentine Republic, because it is the largest and most
populous of the Spanish states and, with Peru, illustrates the political and
financial phases through which the Spanish republics have passed.

The valley of the Amazon makes Brazil the most fertile region of the world.
The tropical woods are so thick and the creepers and undergrowth so
luxuriant that animal life is almost entirely confined to the trees above and
the waters below.

The valley is not unhealthy, and, though under the equator, the climate is
tempered by the trade winds and the evaporation from the vast Amazonian
waters. Beyond the valley is the montaña district, where the land is higher
and the climate semi-tropical, where there are few creepers, little
underbrush, and open forests, and where both animal and vegetable life is
less abundant. Southward, beyond the montaña district, are the evergreen
pampas, where no trees grow and where the animal and vegetable life are
unlike either that of the valley of the Amazon or that of the montaña. As in
Africa, so here, men who live in the dark forest, die in the open. Mr. Stanley
selected thirty dwarfs from the tropical forests of Africa to take to England,

but as soon as they came into the grass-lands, the clear air and bright sun,
they languished and died before the coast was reached.

Northeast of the pampas, on the Atlantic coast, south of the Amazon, is a
province bounded on the south by a range of high mountains, where rain is
abundant; at Maranhao, its seaport, there are 280 inches of rainfall in the
year. South of Maranhao there is much less rain; and instead of two seasons,
the wet and the dry, which prevail in the valley of the Amazon, there are the
four seasons of the year, but without extremes of heat and cold.

Over the greater part of Brazil grows the coffee tree, the sheet-anchor of
Brazilian prosperity, since it furnishes 60 per cent. of all the coffee grown in
the world. The plant is not indigenous to Brazil, but was brought there
about one hundred years ago from the old world.

Brazil, inhabited by the Portuguese, with an imperial government, has been
saved from the anarchy and insolvency of the Spanish republics. Her
railroads have been built with economy and have been generally successful.
It had a population in 1885 of 11,000,000; two-thirds of whom were Indians
and negroes, and many of the negroes were slaves. Slavery existed longer in
Brazil than in any other civilized country; the lash was commonly used on
the plantation, and work continued from early in the morning until late at
night until 1888, when a law was passed finally emancipating 1,300,000
slaves. It was opposed by the planters, who said freedmen would not work,
but would let the coffee and sugar plantations fall to ruin. It was probably
this act which caused the overthrow of the empire, for in revenge the
planters joined the insurgents in establishing the Republic.

The Portuguese and Brazilians are more peaceable and orderly than the
Spaniards or Spanish-Americans; we may therefore reasonably hope that
Brazil will not repeat the history of the Spanish republics, which has been
one of disintegration, for these republics have separated into two or more
States. The greatest difficulty in maintaining its immense domain will arise
from the enormous distances and the time required to travel between
different parts of the country. From Rio de Janeiro to Matto Grosso is 140
days' journey by land, and by water the distance is 3000 miles.
Communication is maintained by steamer through the Argentine Republic
up the Rio de la Plata and its branches. Although the country has many long

and navigable rivers, yet the means of intercommunication are very poor;
for the rivers are little used, and the forests, creepers, and undergrowth are
so dense that the country back of the river-banks is impenetrable, and even
if roads should be opened the soil is so luxuriant that they would be quickly
overgrown and soon become impassable.

Lines of steamers have been subsidized by the Brazilian government and
run up the Amazon 2000 miles to Tabatinga, at the boundary line of Peru;
there connecting with lines subsidized by the Peruvian government, which
run 1500 miles farther up the river. These vessels carry supplies to the
settlers and bring back India rubber, Brazil-nuts, cacao, quinine, and the
beautiful woods of the forest.

Yet steamers are rarely seen on the Amazon; they have few passengers, and
have not opened the country; we are told that the Mississippi carries more
vessels in a month, and the Yang-tse-kiang in a day, than the Amazon in a
year.

THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC.

The history of South American republics is illustrated in the Argentine
republic.

It is a vast pampas or prairie, extending from Brazil to the Andes, and from
Bolivia with a southeasterly trend 2000 miles to southeastern Terra del
Fuego.

The climate of the northern portion is tropical; of the central part, semi-
tropical; of the extreme south, temperate or cold. The country is generally
well watered excepting in the northwestern part, where the land is dry and
alkaline, like the arid regions of North America. The soil is a rich, deep
loam, from four to six feet in depth, excepting in Patagonia and the western
pampas, where there is a coarse gravel and detritus from the Andes. Instead
of the dense tropical forest of the Amazon valley, the pampas are covered
by a coarse grass, three or four feet high, growing in large tussocks and all
the year round of a dark green. The strong grass crowds out all trees and

almost all plants, so that scarcely a flower relieves the uniform, everlasting
verdure.

Instead of the arboreal animals of the Amazon there is the rhea or American
ostrich, "ship of the wilderness," adapted to the pampas, but unable to live
in the forests. The gauchos have hunted it for the last three centuries, but it
is now passing away and will soon be lost to the pampas, as the buffalo has
been to the North American prairie.

The pampas are far better adapted to the raising of cattle than our prairies,
for the grass is always green and the winters are milder. Cattle, horses, and
sheep imported by the Spaniards and turned on to the pampas rapidly
increased, and now immense herds feed on the plains.

The Indians who inhabit the pampas, instead of being confined to one
locality and journeying only by canoe, like the Indians on the Amazon,
wander over the length and breadth of the pampas, hunting the ostrich and
cattle. The cattle are tended by gauchos, as the cow-boys are called, half-
breeds as wild as the herds they tend. Constant warfare exists between the
Indians and the gauchos, unless they unite to attack the settlers. After one of
the Indian raids the government dug an immense ditch from a river to the
Andes and drove the Indians to the farther side, and since then there have
been fewer raids—and fewer Indians.

The land was held in large blocks of many thousand acres, worked by
overseers and gauchos. The animals were killed by hundreds of thousands
for their skins. This state of things is, however, gradually passing away, for
during the last twenty years emigrants from the old world have settled in the
country as farmers and planters.

The fourteen provinces which form the Argentine Republic have never been
welded into one nation, and have seldom had a moment's peace. The
gauchos have been a continual scourge, and the gaucho generals its rulers
and harriers combined. Unfortunately, here, as in other Spanish states, one
dictator has succeeded another. Thirty presidents, or dictators, have reigned
within fifty years. At one time five provinces had each a separate dictator.
The neighboring republic of Uruguay, formerly a part of the Argentine

Confederation, had 26 revolutions in the twenty-three years from 1864 to
1887.

For some time Buenos Ayres and its dictator ruled the republic; then the
country provinces rebelled, and civil war ensued; one province was arrayed
against another, and all against Buenos Ayres. The provinces prevailed and
the gaucho general, Rosas, occupied Buenos Ayres. Scarcely was this civil
war ended when a war arose with the republics of Uruguay and Paraguay.

Money was required to pay the army and the cost of civil and foreign wars.
Every dictator had his friends for whom provision must be made. Large
debts were created; banks were chartered; $200,000,000 of paper money
were issued. There were several different circulating mediums; each
province strove to outdo the others in the issue of a currency which quickly
depreciated. Companies for different purposes were organized, and many
were subsidized, directly or indirectly. We are told that in one case
$1,500,000 was paid for a concession, and that "Turkish officials, who have
hitherto been the champion artists in backsheesh, leave off where Argentine
blackmailers begin; the price of a drainage scheme at Buenos Ayres would
buy a whole cabinet of pashas at Galata."

Railroads were built running from Buenos Ayres in different directions, as
each province demanded a railroad, with little regard to its population or
business.

A road was commenced to cross the Andes and open communication
between the Atlantic and Pacific over mountains which had never been
crossed by a carriage of any kind.

The country was not settled so rapidly as the rulers desired. Inducements
were therefore offered to immigrants. The passage money from Europe and
the expenses of the immigrant to his new home have been paid and land for
settlement sold at low rates. It is estimated that over 1,000,000 foreigners
have settled in the country during the last twelve years, and the
proportionate increase of population in the same period has been twice as
great as that of the United States. Grazing lands have been sold at nominal
prices to immigrants, or leased for terms of years in lots of 6,000 acres at a
rental of $100 a year. Bonds were issued not only by the government but by

the provinces, by the municipalities and by the railroads, and all were
readily taken in England and Germany. To enable the emigrants to pay for
and to cultivate their land, the owner of real estate on depositing his title
deeds with the hypothecary banks and having a valuation of his real estate,
received cedulas, or bonds of the bank, for one-half its appraised value;
these cedulas for large amounts were issued and sold in Europe; and thus, as
ever, more money was required, more bonds were issued. In 1889, a year of
peace, the public debt was increased 120 per cent., and it is now said to be
over one thousand four hundred millions of dollars, and the principal and
interest of two-thirds of this amount is payable in gold at a premium of 200
per cent.

In 1890 there was no money to meet the interest and general prostration
ensued.

It is difficult to ascertain the debt of the republic; but if the accounts given
in the English publications are correct the debt is greater in proportion to its
population and wealth than that of any other country in the world. The only
hope of the Argentine Republic is to wipe out the debt by insolvency and
bankruptcy.

PERU.

A strip of land with 1200 miles of sea coast, without a natural harbor, and
200 to 300 miles wide, consisting of a plain, mountains, a plateau, and still
another range of mountains—this is Peru.

In the west, where the rain never falls, are numerous small rivers, to-day
mountain torrents, to-morrow dry, rocky beds.

Between the lofty ranges of snow mountains is the highest plateau in the
world, after Thibet. The southern part of this plateau is dry and desolate, the
northern portion is well watered, with beautiful streams running now
through deep cañons and then through rich, fertile valleys steadily
descending toward the northeast; the valleys growing ever broader, warmer
and more delightful, until the montaña is reached, only a few hundred feet

above the Atlantic, where the streams have become rivers, navigable to the
ocean.

The western slope of the mountains is dry and barren, so that breadstuffs
and provisions are imported from Ecuador on the north, or from lower
Chili, far to the south. Yet no other country has contributed so much to the
world's fertility; for here are the great deposits of guano and nitrates, more
valuable than mines of gold and silver. These deposits yielded for over
thirty years a net annual revenue of $20,000,000.

The eastern slope, rich and fertile, producing every tree and flower, all fruits
and vegetables grown in any part of the world; in the mountains, mines of
gold and silver, platinum and cinnabar, copper and tin, lead and iron, coal
and petroleum, nitrates and asphalt: a bankrupt nation in the midst of untold
wealth—such is Peru.

To bring the minerals down to the ocean, tens of millions of dollars were
expended on thirteen roads; but though none of them were ever finished,
they reached a few of the poorer mines. Seven of these roads were built by
the government, the others by private parties.

The sales of guano and the production of gold and silver made Peru a proud
and wealthy nation. Everything prospered until the war with Chili, from
1879 to 1883, ending in the defeat of Peru and the loss of a portion of her
territory, including a large part of her guano deposit. She was unable to
keep her railroads in operation, much less to extend them, or to pay the
interest on her bonds; and thus bankruptcy followed defeat. At last, after
fourteen years of default and six years of negotiation, a contract was
concluded with Peru by Mr. M. P. Grace, of New York, in January, 1890, on
behalf of the bondholders. The bondholders became concessionaires, and in
consideration of the release of the bonded debt due to them by Peru, receive
valuable concessions, of money, of mines, of railroads, of lands and of
guano. These concessions include among other things a government subsidy
of $400,000 a year, secured from the customs of Callao; the mines of Cerro
de Pasco, which have yielded a yearly average of $2,000,000 for over one
hundred years; the entire railway system (769 miles in length) of the state; a
grant of 5,000,000 acres for the extension of the Lake Titicaca railroad; a
grant of 4,500,000 acres for the extension of the Central or Oroya railroad

to the navigable waters of the Ucayala, one of the main tributaries of the
Amazon; the exclusive control of the guano deposit until 2,000,000 tons
have been sold, from which they expect to sell at least 80,000 tons a year,
which will net $1,000,000. The concessionaires on their part agree to
liquidate the Peruvian debt, to repair the railroads, and construct 974 miles
in extension of the existing system at an estimated cost of $16,000,000, and
to assume certain other obligations to a limited amount.

This, perhaps the most remarkable settlement ever made between a
bankrupt nation and its creditor, is due largely to Mr. Grace, and cannot fail
to develop the resources of Peru and restore her days of prosperity.

TRADE RELATIONS WITH THE UNITED STATES.

It appears from the foregoing statement that all the carrying trade to and
from South America, by water, is by foreign steamers; that only four of
these are American lines; that the railroads are generally owned and
operated by Englishmen; that the bankers and merchants are Englishmen or
Germans; that many of the mines, cattle ranches, coffee plantations and
other estates are owned by non-resident foreigners; and that the largest
consumer of South American products is the United States, although this
country sells few of its manufactures and products to South America.

The English steamers, in the usual course of trade, load with English dry-
goods consigned to English houses in South America, where they are sold
and the proceeds invested in coffee and other products, which are sent in the
same vessels to the United States; there sold, and the money invested in our
produce for carriage to England. The English therefore obtain the profits on
manufacture, on the freight to South America, on the sale of the goods in
South America, on the freight from South America to the United States, on
the sale of those goods, and finally on the freight of the American
breadstuffs carried to Europe. For the successful prosecution of any trade
between two countries, it is essential that each shall produce what the other
wants: Thus, we raise breadstuffs which are not grown on the Caribbean sea
nor in the valley of the Amazon, nor in Peru or upper Chili, and we also
manufacture goods required in all parts of South America, where they have
few factories; there, coffee, wool, India rubber, cacao and other articles are

produced, which we require. Here, therefore, are the factors necessary for a
prosperous trade. Such a trade we formerly enjoyed with South America: In
1852, six hundred United States vessels entered the harbor of Buenos Ayres,
or more than twice as many as those of all other nations combined; now
only two per cent. of the shipping entering that harbor belongs to us. Our
war came, iron steamers took the place of wooden sailing ships, we levied a
duty on coffee and rubber, South America levied a duty on our
manufactures, other countries subsidized lines of steamers, while we
refused all subsidies; and our trade with South America rapidly fell off, as
freights were carried cheaper in foreign than in American ships, and the
trade of South America passed from the United States to England, Germany
and France.

It is said that we cannot regain this trade, because we cannot, without
protection maintain our own manufactures, much less compete with the
Europeans in an open market; and therefore that it will be a waste of money
to subsidize our vessels. But the larger the market the cheaper we can
manufacture, and we can surely find a large and new market for our
breadstuffs. It is worth while to make the experiment at least, to give our
vessels the same subsidy and protection that has been given to the European
lines, and to our merchants and bankers, an opportunity to regain the trade
with South America. At first the odds will be greatly against us; but if we
show the same energy and ability in cultivating trade with South America
that our fathers exhibited, and that we have shown in other directions, we
must ultimately succeed.

It is now proposed to tax the products of South America, unless the South
American states reciprocate and admit our breadstuffs and manufactures
free. If this scheme can be carried out, a large and prosperous commerce
will be established between North America and South America, and
American houses will be started in the large cities to dispose of our
manufactures and ship the products to South America. By this interchange,
our manufacturers and farmers will find a market for their goods and
products, our mercantile navy freight for its vessels, and our bankers and
merchants a profitable business in the large cities of South America.

RAILROADS.

We have already referred to the several railroads which start from the little
ports on the Pacific coast and run up the valleys toward the Andes. Three of
these, among the most remarkable roads in the world, ascend to a greater
elevation than any others, and to a height which in Europe or the United
States, would be above the snow level. They were intended to reach the
gold and silver mines between the Andes and Cordilleras.

The first, called the Oroya or Central railroad, 111 miles in length, starts
from Callao on the Pacific, and crosses the Andes, at an elevation of nearly
15,000 feet, to the plateau between the Andes and the Cordilleras. It is
expected that this road will be extended to the navigable waters of the
Amazon.

Three hundred miles southward, the second road runs from Mollendo, Peru,
by Arequipa to Puno on Lake Titicaca, and thence northward on the plateau
407 miles to San Rosas, on the route to Cuzco. The road from Mollendo to
Arequipa runs through a country so destitute of water that the only supply
for the engines and stations is by an iron pipe 8 inches in diameter, and 50
miles long, running from an elevation of 7,000 feet to the sea-coast.

Seven or eight hundred miles south of Mollendo, a line runs from
Valparaiso in Chili to Buenos Ayres, 870 miles. It crosses the Andes through
a tunnel two miles long, at an elevation of 10,568 feet above the sea; after
leaving the mountains it runs over the pampas two hundred miles, without a
curve or a grade over three feet above or below the plain, and will soon be
completed from ocean to ocean.

From Rio de Janeiro several roads have been constructed over the
mountains west of that city to different parts of Brazil. One of these runs
westwardly toward Bolivia.

Bolivia has recently granted concessions for the construction of a road from
La Paz to connect on the west with the Peruvian roads at Lake Titicaca, and
on the east with the Brazilian lines on the Pacific; and thus ultimately a road
will run from Mollendo on the Atlantic ocean by Lake Titicaca and La Paz
to Rio de Janeiro.

There are now from 6000 to 7000 miles of road in operation in the
Argentine Republic, 5000 to 6000 in Brazil, and 3000 to 4000 miles in the
other states, making a total of about 15,000 miles of railroad in operation.

A proposition is now before the public for the construction of the Pan-
American railroad, from the Caribbean sea southward to the Argentine
Republic to connect with the Peruvian, with the Brazilian, and ultimately
with the Argentine roads.

The route that seems to be most feasible starts at Cartagena, where there is a
splendid bay and harbor, within three days sail from Galveston and six days
from New York. It follows the valley of the Magdalena river 800 miles to
Dividal, 1700 feet above the sea. Here, near the head waters of the
Magdalena, the route crosses the eastern Cordilleras at an elevation of about
6,500 feet to the head waters of the Caqueta, or Yapura, a branch of the
Amazon, and thence runs down that river 375 miles to the mouth of the
Engarros, only 550 feet above tide-water. From the Caqueta river, the route
passes through Ecuador to Iquitos, Peru, crossing fourteen tributaries of the
Amazon. From Iquitos the route ascends the Amazon and the Ucayle, one
of its southern tributaries, 500 miles to Napal, then continues across the
montaña and the numerous valleys of the Amazon about 600 miles, to Santa
Cruz in Bolivia, or 2400 miles from Cartagena; while a branch will run up
the Apurimac to Cuzco.

This road would run for 2000 miles along the foot hills of the Cordilleras,
and in these mountains is probably the richest mining region in the world;
here gold, silver, copper, lead and coal mines are found. The gold and silver
mines do not seem to have been thoroughly explored, although untold
millions of the precious metals have been extracted from them. These mines
are generally in cold and treeless regions, where coal, labor and food are
difficult to obtain; where freights are high and machinery of all kinds most
expensive. This road would greatly facilitate the opening and working of
these mines, and not only make them profitable but develop a large and
lucrative traffic.

Much of Bolivia is above the navigable waters of the Amazon, and many of
its provinces are now land-locked and almost isolated from communication
with the outer world. The proposed road would cross many branches of the

Amazon, and thus connect with fifty thousand miles of navigable waters, at
least 9000 of which are above Iquitos; and it is claimed that the business
from 20,000 miles of navigable waters would find by this route a nearer
outlet to Europe and America than by Para.

There is every variety of climate on the route. The valley of the Magdalena
is sultry; every afternoon the water grows tepid, and the stones burning hot,
in the sun's rays. In crossing the Cordilleras the cool breezes of the
mountains are met. The road then descends into the valley of the Amazon,
through a rich and not unhealthy region, though it has the damp, hot,
climate of a tropical country, and thence passes through the montaña
district, which is generally high, healthy and fertile.

This country, under a wise government, is capable of sustaining an immense
population and giving abundant support to such a railroad; but it is now
unexplored, excepting the valleys of the navigable rivers, and is uninhabited
save by wild and savage Indians, though these are not numerous.

The route up the Magdalena may be expensive by reason of the climate, but
not otherwise. The road in the mountain district will necessarily be costly,
and also in the sierras, because it must cross the numerous branches of the
Amazon, and the precipitous mountains between the valleys, and from the
difficulty of obtaining labor and material for construction. Mr. Orton, who
crossed from one branch of the Napo to another, says:

"We crossed the stream and the intervening ridges, and their name is legion; sometimes we
were climbing up an almost vertical ascent, then descending into a deep dark ravine to find a
furious river, while on the lowlands the path seemed lost in the dense bamboos, until the
Indians opened a passage with their machetes and we crept under the low arcade of foliage."

Even if the railroad were built, almost all the produce of the Amazon and
montaña country could be carried more cheaply by water to Para than by
rail to Cartagena; while goods from England and America would be carried
cheaper by steamer to the Isthmus of Panama, and thence to all ports on the
Pacific ocean, than by steamer to Cartagena and up the Magdalena across
the Andes to the valley of the Amazon, and then a second time across the
Andes to the Pacific ocean. The greater part of the business to and from the
mines would be by the railroad.

At present, as there could not be sufficient business to pay the operating
expenses of such a road, it must rely on government subsidies to build and
operate it.

Those who have given the most consideration to the subject say that the
road need not be an expensive one to operate, and in the important element
of time it would have a great advantage over the route via Para. As a means
of promoting the settlement of the country and developing commerce,
which cannot exist without population, the railroad would seem to be a
necessity, for navigation has neither opened the country nor brought in
emigrants and we may fairly assume that it will not suffice in the future.

CONCLUSION.

In conclusion I will quote from two writers on tropical America. Buckle
says:

"Amidst the pomp and splendor of nature, no place is left for man; he is reduced to
insignificance by the majesty with which he is surrounded. The forces that oppose are so
formidable that he has never been able to make head against them.

"The energies of nature have hampered his spirit; nowhere else is the contrast so painful
between the grandeur of the external world and the littleness of the internal, and the mind,
cowed by this unequal struggle, has been unable to advance.

"Here, where physical resources are the most powerful, where vegetation and animals are most
abundant, where the soil is watered by the noblest rivers and the coast studded by the finest
harbors, the profusion of nature has hindered social progress and opposed that accumulation of
wealth without which progress is impossible."

Mr. Bates, the naturalist, after a residence of many years on the Amazon,
closes his book as follows:

"The superiority of the bleak north to tropical regions is only in its social aspects, for I hold to
the opinion that although humanity can reach an advanced state of culture only by battling
with the inclemency of nature in high latitudes, it is under the equator alone that the perfect
race of the future will attain to complete fruition of man's beautiful heritage, the earth."

Washington, January, 1891.

VOL. III, PP. 31–40 APRIL 30, 1891

THE

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.

GEOGRAPHY OF THE LAND.
ANNUAL REPORT BY VICE-PRESIDENT

HERBERT G. OGDEN.

(Presented to the Society January 23, 1891.)

Very few of the geographic events of the past year have been of such an
essential nature as to require a reference in this report, and yet some of them
are of surpassing interest. Fraught, as many of them are, with policies that
must have a marked influence in the future in developing the still
uncivilized regions and increasing the prosperity of the established
communities, they present a field for research that has already attracted the
political economist, enlisted the labor of the philanthropist, and excited the
cupidity of commerce.

The division of Africa, as commonly referred to, has naturally aroused the
most profound attention of all civilized peoples. But few have attempted to
penetrate the darkness of the future with predictions of the ultimate results
of the partition of this great continent. That civilization will eventually
follow, we may feel reasonably assured; and if we could but see the end in

the establishment of powerful nations without the repetition of history in the
quarrels, strife, and war that have preceded the settled order of political
progression on other continents, we might well hope the human had
improved his humanity and believe we had entered the border land of the
millennium that enthusiasts have so long held up to us as the final stage in
the progress of man.

The professions of the African powers are peaceful, but in the division of
these unknown millions of square miles it requires but little penetration to
discern the elements for protracted strife in future generations. The
agreement between Germany and England, by far the most important of the
compacts to extend the protection of European nations to particular zones
not embraced in the Kongo Free State, exemplifies in a marked degree the
disputes that may arise, and with what avidity the civilized nations have
sought mutual recognition of their right to dominate in specified spheres. As
might have been expected, however, in an attempt to divide great areas that
have not even been mapped, and with an economic value still to be
determined, the boundaries of the spheres are oftentimes indefinite, and
instead of settling disputed questions, but defer them to the generations yet
to come. There are colonies, protectorates, and spheres of influence, with
boundaries sometimes so ill defined that we may conceive they have been
purposely left indeterminate, that at the proper time the most powerful may
push their frontiers to include regions that the adventurous may proclaim
desirable acquisitions.

The area of Africa is computed at nearly 12,000,000 square miles; and
about 9,500,000 square miles are claimed by the powers as under their
control, protectorate, or influence within the tentative boundaries that seem
to have been very generally agreed upon. Fully 83 per cent. of this area has
been acquired during the past fifteen years. We have seen during this period
the possessions of Spain increase from 3,500 to 200,000 square miles;
England, from 280,000 to 2,000,000; France, from 280,000 to 2,300,000,
while Italy and Germany, that were without a square rod a few years ago,
now claim extensive areas—Italy about 360,000 and Germany over
1,000,000 square miles. Portugal, though not less grasping, seems to have
been less successful, as she has acquired less than 100,000 square miles.
Perhaps having encountered a more powerful nation in her path may

account for this, but the total area within her "sphere" is nevertheless not
insignificant, reaching as it does over three-quarters of a million of square
miles. In the Kongo Free State we find another million square miles, which
many believe will ultimately become a Belgian colony; but in any event,
occupying as it does the larger part of the basin of the Kongo, it is destined
to be the scene of an activity in the development of the continent fruitful of
the most important results.

We must remember, too, that England now occupies Egypt, and that with
her protectorate over Zanzibar and her sphere of influence to the northward
of that state, that has not yet been limited, it is not improbable that she will
eventually reach the Mediterranean, establishing a more extended influence
in northern Africa than even that which she has exerted over the southern
end of the continent. Should England's influence in the north result in the
occupation of all the territory that is apparently within her "sphere," we may
conceive some of the complications likely to arise, and see the realization of
the proviso in the recent Anglo-German agreement granting her the right of
way to build a railroad through the German sphere east of Lake Tanganyika.
Englishmen have expressed grave doubts as to the wisdom of conceding to
Germany this large territory east of Lake Tanganyika, claiming it was
rightfully theirs through discovery, and as they are estopped from
intercommunication to the westward of the lake by the boundaries of the
Kongo Free State, view with alarm the possible intricacies of the situation
when they may attempt to exercise their rights in the German sphere. But
doubtless there are compensating advantages derived from the agreement,
as many earnest and able men commend the concessions made by their
government in view of the greater influence that has been acquired in other
regions where it has not heretofore been generally conceded.

South of the Zambesi there are still other elements that promise fruit for
strife ere the region is recognized as settled to the satisfaction of the
contending powers. Boundaries now but illy defined must be adjusted
before the venturous pioneers shall know to which nation their lands
belong, and we may well foresee in the sections where exploration develops
riches and abundance that the peaceful measures of arbitration will fail to
satisfy the claims to dominance. We have, too, an element in the south
African republic that must ere long find vent in a more pronounced

movement to secure a seaport than that made a few years ago. The fact that
Delagoa bay, the finest harbor on this section of the African coast, is the
natural outlet for these people and for the extensive regions adjacent that
may eventually come under their control, points to this bay becoming a
bone of contention if the powers interested do not conclude the present
arbitration on a just and satisfactory basis. On the lower Niger there are also
points of friction, and even the sands of the great Sahara are becoming the
subject of dispute in the anxiety to establish power that may wield an
influence in distributing the wealth that may be found.

From what regions of the continent the future wealth is to be derived we
cannot predict. The uncertainty is, perhaps, the consideration in the problem
of development that leaves vast areas with undefined boundaries, though
nominally within the sphere of influence of a specified power. There are
fully 2,000,000 square miles yet to be explored before we may know the
general geographic features of the continent, and a much larger area that
must be examined and studied by experts before any reasonable estimate of
its value and adaptability to the schemes of civilized man can be
approached. The great strides that have been made in recent years in seizing
upon the unclaimed territories doubtless received the larger impetus from
the revelations in Mr. Stanley's explorations. The Kongo is recognized to be
a natural highway leading to a region believed to be susceptible of
remunerative development. Preparations have been made to construct a
railroad around the falls in the lower river to overcome the greatest practical
obstacle to its fullest utilization. We may reasonably expect commercial
enterprises on extensive scales to speedily follow the completion of this
road and hasten the acquisition of a more perfect knowledge of the Kongo
basin, not within the boundaries of the Kongo Free State alone, but also the
region drained by the great tributaries from the north and the sections
naturally dependent upon this great river system.

The Kongo is but one line on which the general advance is being made
upon the interior of the continent. The French seem determined upon
extending their influence on the northern and western coasts, and the
Portuguese, English, Germans, and Italians are pronounced in their efforts
on the eastern coast, while the English are careful, too, of their interests
from the south, and seem to have almost unlimited scope north of Victoria

Nyanza. The progress of the advancing colonization will necessarily be
accelerated or retarded by the geographic conditions encountered in the
different regions. In some, it may be the difficulty of maintaining
communication with older settlements; in others, that the land is
unproductive or the probable gains not sufficiently attractive; and lastly, the
great density of the native population in certain districts is likely to prove a
hindrance that it may require many years to overcome. On the lower Niger,
in the British west African colony, in Egypt, in Natal, on the shores of Lake
Victoria Nyanza, and in parts of the Kongo basin, it is estimated that the
native population is nearly as dense as in India; but the climatic conditions
are so unfavorable that it is not probable that any attempt will be made to
advance in these regions for a more serious purpose than to maintain a
foothold for the future. The more attractive districts for the white man are
thought to be much less populous, and are not scourged with such an
unhealthy climate.

Even now the nations of Europe are planning to enter these great unknown
fields. There is an expedition on the western coast, under the explorer
Cameron, investigating the conditions for trade; and the rumors of the
organization of wealthy companies to work in the several "spheres of
influence" but impress upon us the fact that the Old World is moving to lay
bare the resources of the great continent, and we may hope with an energy
that will overcome all obstacles, open new fields to mankind, and relieve
the nations of the horrors of human traffic in which they have been too long
encouraged. But it would be vain to hope there will be no bloodshed, for
where man has great rival interests history teaches us they are settled by the
sword; and we can hardly believe the peaceful methods of arbitration will
have gained such sway as to rob history in her predictions as to the
regeneration of "darkest Africa."

On the western hemisphere also there have been events of most interesting
import, in that they foreshadow a closer union of the people of the two
continents. Unlike Africa, in that this hemisphere has been under the control
of the more intelligent races of men for several generations, so that
discovery and the cruelties attending the establishment of supremacy are

virtually questions of the past, the interests involved are on a different
plane, though not on a higher moral sphere, as we can conceive no greater
Christian duty than the regeneration of the uncivilized, but a sphere
affecting the relations of established communities that for generations have
been wielding an influence in the world's history on principles recognized
to be the product of civilization. The metes and bounds of the states are well
defined, with few exceptions, and the ambition for territorial accretion has
been so greatly subdued by the misfortunes of their earlier histories, that the
time seems to be propitious for advancing those greater questions of public
policy that naturally arise from their community of interests. The
proposition to convene a Pan-American congress was for several years
viewed with suspicion, and was even designated by some as chimerical, but
the suggestion took root. Many thoughtful men believed such a conference
would lead to a better understanding between the people of the states
represented, and that, while the fruits might not be made immediately
apparent, the foundation would be laid for lasting benefits. The interest
manifested by the different nations and the high character of the
representatives they sent to the conference clearly indicated that
deliberations were to be undertaken in good faith. We need not follow the
deliberations of this body, nor even revert to the many questions discussed.
Since the adjournment we are beginning to appreciate some of the results.
The recent establishment of the "Bureau of the American Republics" is one
of the first practical evidences of work accomplished. This bureau is
maintained by proportionate contributions from the nations represented in
the congress, and is intended to be the medium for collecting and
disseminating information on commercial, industrial, and cognate subjects.
If we consider the different characteristics of the people of the two
continents—their manners, customs and methods of business—we can
readily conceive the bureau has before it a labor of no little magnitude, but
one that, fairly accomplished, cannot fail to be beneficial and of lasting
value.

Further evidence of the work of the congress is apparent in the organization
of a commission of experts to project the long-contemplated inter-
continental railway—a scheme that, dependent upon individual effort,
would doubtless require many years for accomplishment, but undertaken

under international auspices we may hope will be pressed to a speedy
conclusion.

The assembly of delegates to consider a monetary unit for the republics of
the two continents is also the result of the congress. The progress of this
conference will doubtless be watched with peculiar interest, coming as it
does when our own people are in the midst of a reactionary effort to
habilitate silver as a standard coin.

The revolution a year ago that gave birth to the United States of Brazil, it
was feared by many would lead to a state of anarchy that would end
disastrously to the new nation and perhaps involve neighboring states.
Fortunately these forebodings have not been realized, and the recent general
election in Brazil, which seems to have been conducted without violence,
has caused a feeling of confidence that we may well believe will continue
and permit this great state to enter heartily into the new era of material
development that seems opening to our sister republics.

Work on the construction of the Nicaragua canal has steadily progressed
during the year. A harbor for light-draft vessels has been constructed at San
Juan del Norte, and satisfactory progress has been made in constructing the
railway designed to facilitate the work of excavation. It has been hoped by
the friends of this project that the canal would be constructed with funds
raised by private subscription. The admirable management of the
preliminary work of surveying and organization were good grounds for
their belief; but the bill recently introduced in Congress asking a guarantee
for one hundred millions of bonds to be issued, indicates that expectations
of friends were too sanguine, and that the financial backing that had been
believed to be assured has for some reason not been developed. This may be
only a temporary alarm, due to the general financial stringency that has
prevailed during the past few months, and on the recurrence of an easier
money market the necessity for the relief asked from Congress will
disappear.

The Panama canal project, supposed to have been abandoned in hopeless
financial ruin, has recently been revived, with new concessions extending
the period for construction, and, it is currently reported, a scheme for a
colossal lottery company for raising the means for prosecuting the work. It
seems incredible that this canal shall become a fact in this generation; but if
it is the feasible route its projectors claim, it is not improbable that the
demands of a future generation may necessitate its construction.

A year ago I commented upon the improvement of the Mississippi river.
Since then one of the greatest floods on record has visited the lower river
country, devastating a large area. It brought to the settlers in the valley,
however, a new experience, and has inspired them with a confidence in the
levée system that finds expression in the demand for levées of approved
construction from Cairo to the Gulf. The flood of a year ago covered many
square miles. A large proportion of the area, however, was not protected by
levées, and another large proportion was only partially protected; and while,
therefore, the disaster impressed the general public with a belief that the
levées were a failure, the facts really point to the contrary. In former notable
floods it has not been unusual for one hundred or more miles of levée to be
washed away before the flood subsided, but on the recent occasion there
was a total length of less than five miles destroyed in some 1,100 miles of
levée that had been believed to be safe. This is a remarkable showing, and
has naturally inspired the advocates of the system with greater confidence.
It points to the possibility of constructing levées at a reasonable expense
that will stand the pressure of water for the height that it has been computed
necessary to build them. There is a grave doubt, however, in the minds of
some as to whether the computed heights, the levées holding intact, will
afford sufficient cross-section to carry off the volume of water draining
from the catchment basins. Some interesting computations on this subject
have recently been made by General Greely, the chief signal officer,1 from
observations made during an extended period.
1
North American Review, May, 1890.

The question raised is not a new one, but, considered in the light of the
statistics presented, seems to involve the problem of the improvement of the

river with increasing difficulties. General Greely's figures indicate that the
cross-section of the lower river will only permit carrying to the sea a
volume of about sixty cubic miles of water during an ordinary flood season,
and that in the extraordinary flood years, such as 1882 and 1890, the
volume to be carried down is about eighty cubic miles, showing an excess
of about twenty cubic miles over the capacity of the river in a specified
time. These figures should be taken in the nature of a warning; and while it
must be admitted that the intricacy of the problem precludes precision, their
probable reliability should be carefully studied before an extended levée
system is built intended to guarantee protection against exceptional floods.

During recent years the complex and perplexing subject of geographic
nomenclature has received the careful consideration of a number of the
European nations, with a view to reaching a uniformity in treatment and the
transliteration of names of unwritten languages into Roman characters.
England, France, and Germany have adopted substantially the same system
of rules. Recent publications from these countries evidence the intention to
apply them as rapidly as circumstances will permit. Although we may rebel
at first on seeing such familiar names as Cairo spelled with a K, Mecca with
double k, and Muscat converted into Maskat, it is believed the general
principles adopted will eventually receive acquiescence—perhaps half-
hearted at first—and as the utility of the system becomes more apparent
through its universal adoption and we realize that maps from whatever
nation will give us the names of the same places in substantially the same
form, our prejudices must give way.

Under the provisions of an executive order issued on the fourth of
September last, our own Government has virtually adopted the European
system in the treatment of foreign names, thus bringing us in accord with
the principal nations upon a most important subject to students and
geographers the world over. The executive order constitutes a board
composed of ten representatives from different departments and bureaus of
the Government service, to which all questions relating to the work of the
board that may arise in the departments are to be referred, and requires all
persons in the Government service to respect the decisions that may be

rendered. The board in its first bulletin, recently issued, has announced its
adoption of the English system for the treatment of foreign names and
transliteration into Roman characters, and has presented principles to guide
in reaching decisions affecting home names. These principles will doubtless
be added to as new questions arise, so that at no very distant day we may
see formulated a set of rules that will be instructive as well as useful in their
application. The first bulletin seems to have been received favorably, and
we may hope, as the work of the board advances and the importance of the
subject is more generally realized, that it will gain the hearty endorsement
of the public and a support that must largely increase the usefulness of its
labors.

In conclusion, permit me to congratulate the society upon its first attempt at
scientific exploration in the field. The Mount St. Elias expedition, under the
leadership of Mr. I. C. Russell, with Mr. Mark B. Kerr as topographer, left
Seattle, Washington, in June last, and after spending more than two months
on the mountain sides, one-half their time above the snow line, have
returned with notes, specimens, and data of the greatest interest. The
topography was sketched over an area of about one thousand square miles,
and includes the determination of the geographical position and elevation of
Mount St. Elias and many neighboring peaks. Mount St. Elias is indicated
to be not so high by some 4,000 feet as the heretofore accepted elevation,
19,500 feet. The difficulties attending the determination of the height of this
mountain are so great that the range between the extreme elevations that
have been given by different explorers is nearly 6,000 feet. This is believed
to be the first height for it that has been derived from a carefully measured
base, and it therefore should receive great weight. But I regret to say that in
the chain of triangles connecting with the top of the mountain, the difficulty
of placing well-conditioned triangles seems to have been so great that the
observers were forced to accept very small included angles, which
necessarily casts a doubt upon the resulting distances. We must therefore
accept the new elevation with caution until it is verified by further
observations.

The party was unfortunately prevented from reaching the top of Mount St.
Elias by severe storms, but the ascent was so nearly accomplished that Mr.
Russell is confident he found a practicable route; and it seems probable that
had he been started ten days or two weeks earlier the first ascent of Mount
St. Elias would have been recorded as a part of the work of the expedition.

The full report of this expedition is now nearing completion, and will be
published by the Society at an early date. To this I must refer you for the
interesting details, and experiences encountered by the explorers.

The expedition was organized by the Society, but in congratulating
ourselves we should not forget that our thanks are due to the United States
Geological Survey for the assignment of officers to conduct the work in the
field and for assistance rendered in the organization; and we may hope the
substantial results that have been secured will prove as pleasing to that great
national work as they are to your board of managers.

Washington, January 23, 1891.

VOL. III, PP. 41–52 MAY 1, 1891

THE

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.

GEOGRAPHY OF THE AIR.
ANNUAL REPORT BY VICE-PRESIDENT

A. W. GREELY.

(Presented to the Society January 23, 1891.)

In fulfilling the duties growing out of his official position in connection
with this Society, your Vice-President of the Geography of the Air has been
so closely occupied with executive and other official duties devolving upon
him as to preclude his giving that amount of time and labor to this annual
report that the subject merits. Indeed, no report would be submitted this
year had it not seemed better to insure a continuity of these annual
addresses, even if one of them might not be up to the high standard which
should be maintained for them.

It must have impressed every general reader of scientific journals that the
past year has been marked by the publication of an unusual number of
controversial articles relating entirely or in part to meteorology. Some of the
discussions of this subject appear to be in the nature of speculation, which,
by good authority, is defined to be "chiefly the work of the imagination, and
has little to do with realities." The status of the meteorological discussion
which has been going on for some time seems to be this: A number of men,

applying themselves to investigation in separate branches or stages of the
same science, are attempting to reconcile their views, which, based as they
are upon entirely different processes of investigation, are not entirely
accordant. Some, at least, of these writers are still apparently groping in the
preliminary, the "natural history" stage of the science of meteorology, while
one alone stands as the exponent of the "natural philosophy" of
meteorology.

To me it seems that it could not have failed to impress any interested reader
who has followed the late publications on the convectional theory that, in
order to clear the ground for definite meteorological discussion, it is
necessary to determine the exact meaning of the various technical terms
employed by the various writers. Whether from looseness of verbiage
originally or from the not infrequent habit of disputants when worsted to
change their ground by claiming to be misunderstood, we find that some
writers are unwilling either to stand by their first criticisms or to openly
abandon them; they prefer to explain away their defective statements and
gradually shift around to positions almost diametrically opposed to those
originally assumed.

The generally accepted theory as to cyclones attributes their initiatory
formation to an unequal distribution of temperature with resulting mean
diminution of pressure, and the movement of the air from places of high to
places of low pressure, the lower air ascending with a gyratory motion,
while air particles moving from opposite directions form couples which
produce rotation. When energetic motions raise the ascending air to such a
height that the temperature, cooled dynamically in ascending, goes below
the dew-point, then the great store of latent heat thereby set free becomes, it
is assumed, the main source of energy in maintaining the upward
convectional movement. The subsidiary causes are attributed to the
diminution of pressure on the collapse of the vapor, and also to the direct
absorption of the sun's heat at the upper cloud surface.

In anticyclones a slow gyratory descending motion of the air is assumed.
Ferrel considers the cyclone and anticyclone one system, and believes that
air flowing into the cyclone from a "high" at the ground passes out into the
higher atmospheric strata.

Dr. Hann has put forth the hypothesis that the genesis of cyclones and
anticyclones may be sought in the general atmospheric circulation through a
difference of temperature of the air from the equator to the poles. He speaks
of a congestion in the upper or anti-trade winds, where the air heaps up to a
great height, this being the cause of the anticyclones; and he maintains that
the low temperature of the "high" is due to ground radiation, and that no
part of the high pressure is the result of low temperature.

To this hypothesis of Dr. Hann, ascribing the genesis of storms to the
general circulation of the atmosphere, no application of the laws of
dynamics has yet been made with a view of developing it into an acceptable
"theory." If it should be established it does not follow that it will in any way
affect the truth of the commonly accepted "convectional system," which,
founded as it is on the well-known laws of thermo-dynamics, is not likely to
be successfully assailed. There may be an improved nomenclature for the
laws of statics and dynamics that will express to the mind more clearly the
relation of cause and effect; but until the advance of scientific research
modifies the present formulation of these laws the convectional theory will
be generally accepted as giving the true interpretation of all the phenomena
to which it could be applied.

Professor Russell, in commenting on this subject, expresses the opinion that
the low temperature is due to the convective interchange of air at a low
temperature in the upper strata with air of a high temperature in lower
strata, such convective interchange tending to make the whole body of air
of a temperature coinciding throughout with the adiabatic rate of upward
diminution, with the consequent result of rendering the air at the surface of
the earth cooler than previously and the upper air warmer. When the upward
diminution of temperature is less than the adiabatic rate, in the forced
circulation of air crossing a mountain ridge, there occurs the dynamic
heating which is observed in the case of the foehn winds. The low
temperature near the earth he does not believe could ever be entirely
produced by nocturnal radiation from the ground. The high pressure, in his
opinion, is largely the result of greater density due to low temperature, as is
very clearly indicated by the fact that the temperature is almost inversely
proportional to the pressure, and that the places of lower temperature
substantially coincide with the places of greatest pressure.

In advancing hypotheses and inviting discussion the real object is, or at
least should be, to discover the essential cause or causes which determine
the initial formation and subsequent maintenance and progress of the
cyclone. Some real progress in charting lines of equal density seems to have
been made by M. Nils Ekholm following Professor Abbe's system of
"isostaths," one using the term density, the other buoyancy. Professor Abbe
also introduces the factor of the orographic gradient, but the latter is simply
the measure of a resistance. The objection to this form of determination is
this, that it is a measure of mass only. The density of two masses of air is
determined to be the same; but as the density may result from two entirely
different causes, their physical relations cannot be fully expressed in units
of gravity. The methods of Professor Abbe and of M. Nils Ekholm
undoubtedly give good results, partly from the coincidence that humidity
usually varies directly as the temperature.

The method proposed by Captain James Allen in 1888, which is briefly
described in appendix 24 to the annual report of the Chief Signal Officer for
1890, appears to afford the means of more clearly expressing the relations
that exist between the mass of the atmosphere and the forces available for
the generation and movement of storms. Its tentative application at the
Signal Office has anticipated and explained storm movements not indicated
or accounted for by the usual methods.

As pertinent to this matter, there is instanced a study of the progress of
thunder-storms made by Berg, who observes that the line of storm front in
every case investigated made a decidedly conspicuous bend into the densest
part of the lines representing the absolute humidity.

Scientific conditions have so changed that in these later years it becomes
more and more difficult for investigators to publish any work which may be
characterized as magnum opus. Under this head, however, must be classed
Buchan's important memoir on the distribution of atmospheric pressure,
temperature, and wind direction over the whole world; a large quarto
volume, which contains much new material. It has been incorporated with
the results of observations during the Challenger expedition, in which series
this work appears. The isobars and isotherms for each month in the year for

the whole earth are charted on Mercator's projection, and for the northern
hemisphere on a chart constructed on a polar projection. In connection with
an abstruse subject, to which Buchan has paid so much attention, the
diurnal variation of pressure, he opines from the Challenger observations
that the oscillations are due to the heat taken from the solar rays directly in
passing through the air and instantaneously communicated through the
whole mass from top to bottom by heating and evaporation of water on
innumerable dust particles. The afternoon minimum, he thinks, is caused by
upward currents removing a portion of the lower air. Marked differences
exist between the continental and insular types, since on islands the
morning minimum is unusually large and the afternoon minimum so small
as to disappear, while in continental types the reverse conditions obtain.

Werner Von Siemens, in answering Sprung's criticism on his general air
currents, after repelling certain statements of Sprung, describes his own
theories, which are worthy of restating:

1. All winds are caused by the disturbances of indifferent equilibrium,
and the motion of the air is to restore equilibrium.

2. These disturbances are caused through overheating of the layers of
air near the surface of the earth by insolation, through unsymmetrical
cooling of the higher layers by radiation, and through the heaping up
of air masses caused by obstructions.

3. The disturbances are adjusted by ascending currents, wherein the
particular species of acceleration occurs in which the increase of
velocity is proportioned to the diminution of pressure.

4. The upward currents correspond to equally great descending
currents in which there is a decrease of velocity corresponding to the
acceleration in the upward velocity.

5. If the region of overheating of the air is limited locally, a local
upward current reaching to the highest layers of air arises, and
whirlwinds appear with interior spirally ascending currents and outside

similar spiral descending currents. The result of this is dispersion of
the superfluous heat of the lower air by which the adiabatic
equilibrium is disturbed throughout the whole column of air taking
part in the whirling motion.

6. In case the region of disturbance of the indifferent (or adiabatic)
equilibrium is very extensive, as, for example, the whole of the
tropical zone, the temperature adjustment can no longer be
accomplished by locally ascending whirls, and a whirling current must
then arise involving the whole atmosphere. The same conditions apply
to these as to the local whirls of accelerated upward motion and
retarded descent in such a manner that the velocity at different
altitudes arising from heat converted to work is approximately
proportional to the prevailing pressure at the place.

7. In consequence of the meridional motion produced and maintained
by conversion of heat into work, the whole atmosphere in every
latitude must rotate with approximately the same absolute velocity.
Thus the meridional currents produced by overheating combine with
the currents embracing the whole wind system of the earth, with the
result of disseminating the excess of temperature and humidity of the
torrid zone over the temperate and arctic zones, thereby producing the
prevailing winds.

8. This is accomplished by the production of alternating local
depressions and elevations of barometric pressure by the disturbance
of indifferent equilibrium in the upper layers of the air.

9. "Highs" and "lows" are a consequence of the temperatures and
velocities of the upper currents.

Whence it follows that the most important problem of meteorology is the
investigation of the causes and consequences of the disturbance of
indifferent equilibrium of the atmosphere, and the weightiest problem in
weather prediction is the investigation of the geographical origin or
extraction of air currents pursuing their course above us toward the pole.

In Pomortsew's treatise on synoptic meteorology, published in Russia, there
are full chapters on prediction of weather, whether from synoptic charts,
from observations at a single place, or from prognostics of great length
based on researches on the succession of warm and cold months. It also
contains Pomortsew's investigations on the types of pressure distribution in
eastern Europe, as well as the average path of cyclones.

The favorable opportunities afforded by the Eiffel tower have been utilized
by French meteorologists. M. Angot states that during the anti-cyclone of
November, 1889, the temperature on the tower was several degrees higher
than below. The change of weather set in earlier, with a strong and warm
wind, on the tower, while the air at the ground was cold and calm. Wind
observations on the tower show a ratio of 3.1 at that height (303 meters) to
the velocity at a height of 21 meters, as determined from 101 days'
observations, which, remarkable at such a small height, discloses the
peculiarity of high mountain stations.

Partsch, writing on evidence of climatic changes within historical times in
the Mediterranean region, remarks that too much attention has been given
to changes in crops, the introduction of plants, and the limits of domestic
animals. He states that existing information as to the harvest time of ancient
days indicates an unchanged climate, while the land-locked lakes in Tunis,
which afford the best evidence on rainfall variation, show absolutely no
climatic change.

Van Bebber, in writing on weather types, claims that a line drawn from the
center of a cyclone perpendicularly in the direction of the heaviest gradients
will in general be perpendicular to the subsequent path of the "low," and
that these lows leave high temperature on the right hand.

Hill, in describing hail-stones and tornadoes in India, explains them on the
principle of the great diminution of temperature upwards in the air, but a
critic, in combating this theory, objects to the high and low stations selected
to show temperatures.

The so-called "weather plant" of the tropics has passed through the process
of investigation with the usual result. It appears surprising that in these days
it should be believed that any plant or animal can foretell weather 48 hours
in advance, particularly after considering the vast amount of proof as to the
enormous rapidity with which weather-changes progress from day to day.

Hugo Meyer, in treating the precipitation of central Germany for the ten
years ending in 1885, pertinently remarks that the same significance does
not attach to the same rainfall for all places and different times of the year,
for this average value is not the amount most likely to fall in any particular
interval of time, since there is a limit to the extent of the negative deviations
on one side—that is, 0 or no rainfall, while on the positive side there is no
limit. The most probable depth of rainfall, therefore, is less than the mean
value, the preponderance of negative over positive deviations being about
10 per cent. and sometimes as great as 20 per cent.

Professor W. M. Davis wrote an interesting review of Professor Ferrel's
popular treatise on the winds, published a year ago. Commenting on the
review, the editor of Meteorologische Zeltschrift, Vienna, remarks on a very
important omission in the treatise, namely, the absence of all reference to
the diurnal variation of the wind and the many interesting relations it bears
to other phenomena, a notable omission in a treatise specially devoted to
winds. The treatment of the monsoon wind and its relation to the general
circulation is highly commended by the editor, and indicated as being all
new.

Your Vice-President has elsewhere expressed his opinion that monsoon
winds, applying the term by liberal construction to signify winds which
recur with returning seasons, cannot with any degree of correctness be
asserted to prevail in the United States. It is true that the prevailing surface
winds of the greater part of the United States come from the western
quadrants—that is, between southwest and northwest—and so are in
substantial harmony with the general atmospheric circulation as shown by
the upper-wind currents of Mount Washington (from the northwest) and
Pike's peak (from the southwest). But, apart from the easterly and
northeasterly trades on the Florida coast, it appears from the records that in
no case for any considerable section of the country do 50 per cent. of the
winds blow, for any consecutive number of months, either from any single
point or from two neighboring points of the compass. Occasionally,
however, the local configuration of the country is such that winds are drawn
up or down valleys, and, being diverted from their free and proper direction,
the wind in such cases follows the trend of the valley or depression.

In general your Vice-President would feel inclined to refer only casually to
the work proceeding from the Bureau over which he has the honor to
preside, but this year has been marked by special researches and
investigations of general interest. As the work of investigation has been
entrusted to the professors of the Signal Service, due credit should not be
refused them from their own official chief.

Special reference should be made to the work of Professor Charles F.
Marvin, whose successful experiments on wind pressures and velocities
have attracted the attention of experts both in Europe and in this country.
Unfortunately there was available only a small sum (about one hundred
dollars) for the expense of experiments, but with this petty sum,
supplemented by his ingenuity, Professor Marvin has very satisfactorily
determined the coëfficients of the various forms of the Robinson
anemometer, with which instrument the velocity of the wind is very
generally determined. Following these investigations, the Royal
Meteorological Society of England reopened the question, which, after a

costly set of experiments with results widely differing from those of
Professor Marvin, had been considered closed.

The general results of these researches, which are believed to be sufficiently
definite for general questions, are not only prized by the scientist, but they
are of value to the engineer and the builder. Indeed, to all interested in
costly structures or extended works liable to harm from wind pressures, the
factor of safety is a matter of no small pecuniary importance. These
experiments show that, as was formerly believed to be the case, the wind
pressure varies as the square of the velocity of the wind, expressed in miles
per hour; but a most important fact has developed, namely, that the pressure
in pounds per square foot is equal to the miles of hourly velocity multiplied
by 0.004 instead of 0.005, as was formerly assumed.

Professor Marvin was not content with one system of experiments, but he
further attacked the problem in a direct manner by a method which checked
and verified his experiments with the whirling machine. On the summit of
Mount Washington, at an elevation of 6,300 feet, he obtained
simultaneously and under the same conditions, by automatic and electrical
apparatus, continuous registration of the pressure of the wind in pounds per
square foot and of the velocity in miles per hour.

The results thus verified can be considered as conclusive from a general
standpoint. The corrections for the Robinson anemometer thus determined
from these experiments are comparatively unimportant at low velocities,
say from 10 to 15 miles per hour, being only a fraction of a mile per hour.
The uncorrected velocities, however, are in all cases too large, and by
greater and greater amounts the higher the velocity. At 60 miles per hour the
observed velocities are about 12 miles per hour too high, and for an
indicated velocity of 90 miles the experiments show that the actual velocity
is but a fraction over 69 miles per hour.

The anemometer formula found to satisfy most closely the entire range of
experiments has the following form for velocities in miles per hour:

Log. V = 0.509 + 0.9012 log. v.

This difference indicated by the formula may seem small and insignificant,
as it is in the case of light winds, but at very high velocities the differences
are very great. For instance, an actual velocity of 60 miles per hour may
occur at some time in almost any locality of the United States for a few
minutes, and even greater velocities are occasionally reported, apart from
severe tornadoes. Under the old coëfficients for the Robinson anemometer
an actual velocity of 60 miles per hour would have been reported as 77
miles per hour, which under the old factor of 0.005 would mean a pressure
of 29.6 pounds per square foot; but when considered with reference to the
true velocity of 60 miles, under the new factor of 0.004, the pressure would
only be 14.4 pounds per square foot—a reduction of over 50 per cent. from
the pressure-values formerly accepted.

Professor Marvin has undertaken to verify, and also to extend to even lower
temperatures, the observations of Regnault as to the pressure of aqueous
vapor at low temperatures, especial attention being given to temperature
conditions from 0° centigrade to –50° centigrade. These observations
disclose, below 0° centigrade, small but constant differences from the
values assigned by Regnault.

In all this work Professor Marvin has shown such ingenuity of resource,
such skill in adapting means to the end, and such deftness in improvising
and manufacturing the requisite instruments as have elicited commendation
from all who have seen his work and followed his methods. Your Vice-
President alludes to this not only to give that credit rightfully due to
Professor Marvin, but to illustrate this as a type of the highly important
work which is being done in all branches of science here in Washington by
young men sometimes illy equipped as to means, and still more illy paid.
Men engaged in work of original investigation should receive higher pay
than clerks in charge of routine duties; but unfortunately the majority of
them do not.

The work of Professor Hazen in charting tornadoes and in determining their
relative frequency and severity is directly in the line of the Geography of
the Air.

Great attention had previously been given to this subject by Lieutenant John
P. Finley, who, with indefatigable industry, had accumulated an enormous
mass of data relative to these violent outbursts of nature's forces. The
figures and deductions previously put forth under the authority of the Signal
Service having been questioned, the Chief Signal Officer felt obliged, in
view of the growing practical importance of the question, as indicated by
the great sums annually paid out in the Ohio valley and in the trans-
Mississippi region for protection against tornadoes, to reöpen the subject.
Instructions of the most conservative character were given to Professor
Hazen to determine carefully the prevalence and number of tornadoes in the
United States, the areas devastated by them, and the number of lives lost
annually. This work was carefully scrutinized during its progress to see that
it should be devoid of theory and rest on the solid basis of fact. The results
are most assuring to every one, and must serve to allay the unreasonable
fears of the inhabitants of the so-called "tornado districts." It appears that
there is no part of the United States in which annually more than one square
mile of devastation or severe destruction can be expected for each 185,000
square miles, although cases of limited destruction may occur annually for
about every 5,000 square miles of area. In no state may destructive
tornadoes be expected, on an average, more than once in two years; and the
area over which total destruction can be expected is, as shown by the
foregoing figures, exceedingly small, even in localities most liable to these
violent storms. The annual death casualties from tornadoes have averaged,
in the last 18 years, 102 annually; but it is believed that the death rate from
lightning is greater than that from tornadoes, since during March to August,
1890, the names of 110 are on record who have lost their lives by lightning,
although the data are incomplete, especially as regards the southern states.
These statistics cannot be passed by lightly, however, and it is doubtful if in
the main they are much in error. By them it appears from five years' record
that the average annual death rate by lightning in the United States is 3.8
per million of inhabitants, or 0.2 above the average. In Sweden, for sixty
years, the average has been 3.0; in France, for forty-nine years, 3.1; in
Baden, for seventeen years, 3.8; and in Prussia, for fifteen years, 4.4 per
million.

Other figures, given by a life-insurance agent in St. Louis, which the author
claims to have compiled with great care, place the average annual rate of

death from lightning in the United States at 206, being more than double the
deaths from tornadoes. It must be understood that these figures are not
vouched for, and must be very cautiously received, as originating with
companies interested pecuniarily in the statistics.

On the whole, therefore, it may be safely assumed that tornadoes are not so
destructive to life as thunder-storms.

Professor Thomas Russell has formulated a method for prediction of cold
waves. They always occur after "lows" and before "highs," and different
cold waves vary in extent from three "units" to sixty. A "unit" of
temperature-fall is taken as a fall of twenty degrees over an area of 50,000
square miles.

The temperature-fall curves in the United States are approximately elliptical
in shape. Perfect ellipses represent actual temperature falls with an error not
exceeding six degrees in most cases. These fall lines are intersections of
planes with a cone which graphically represents the totality of temperature-
fall, the contents of the cone being equal to the area of its base multiplied
by its altitude, which is the greatest fall in temperature at the center of the
cold wave.

A formula has been devised, based on 127 special cases, representing the
amount of fall in terms of the amount of barometric depression in a "low,"
and the amount of excess if a "high," and the density of the isothermal lines
in the region.

From proper consideration of the type of low area, shape of isobars, and
position of the long axis, definite conclusions can be drawn as to the
subsequent shape of the elliptical twenty-degree temperature-fall area and
its position.

A method has been devised, also by Professor Russell, for determining the
maximum fall of temperature at the center of the cold wave. The maximum
fall and extent of fall being known, from suitably prepared tables, the area
of twenty-degree fall can be derived. Previously prepared pieces of card-

board are laid in the proper position on a map of suitable scale, and lines
drawn around them. Between the line representing the twenty-degree fall
and the center, the other falls of thirty degrees, forty degrees, etc., are
sketched in.

The foregoing sketch of the geography of the air may appear too superficial
and limited for the purposes of this Society, but its further elaboration was
impracticable. Indeed, the subject of meteorology could hardly have been
touched upon this year had it not been for the courtesy of Professor Russell
in placing at my disposal notes upon translations from foreign publications,
especially from the German; which publications I have been unable to
examine save in a casual way.

The address, as it is, is submitted only in the hope that it may serve, if no
other purpose, at least to indicate the great interest which now obtains in the
geography of the air, and which manifests itself in the production of
meteorological pamphlets and publications too numerous to permit any one
charged with important executive duties to examine them all, even in a non-
critical way.

VOL. III, PP. 53–204, PLS. 2–20 MAY 29, 1891

THE

NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE.

AN EXPEDITION TO MOUNT ST. ELIAS, ALASKA

BY ISRAEL C. RUSSELL.

(Accepted for publication March 18, 1891.)

CONTENTS.

Introduction—The Southern Coast of Alaska

Part I—Previous Explorations in the St. Elias Region
Bering, 1741
Cook, 1778
La Pérouse, 1786
Dixon, 1787
Douglas, 1788
Malaspina, 1792
Vancouver, 1794
Belcher, 1837
Tebenkof, 1852
United States Coast and Geodetic Survey, 1874, 1880
New York Times Expedition, 1886
Topham Expedition, 1888

Part II—Narrative of the St. Elias Expedition of 1890
Organization
From Seattle to Sitka
From Sitka to Yakutat Bay
Canoe Trip up Yakutat Bay
Base Camp on the Shore of Yakutat Bay
First Day's Tramp
Canoe Trip in Disenchantment Bay
From Yakutat Bay to Blossom Island
Blossom Island
Life above the Snow-Line
First Camp in the Snow
Across Pinnacle Pass
First full View of St. Elias
Summit of Pinnacle Pass Cliffs
Across Seward Glacier to Dome Pass
Up the Agassiz Glacier
Camp on the Newton Glacier
Highest Point reached
Alone in the highest Camp
The Return
Suggestions

Part III—Sketch of the Geology of the St. Elias Region
General Features
Yakutat System
Pinnacle System
St. Elias Schist
Geological Structure

Part IV—Glaciers of the St. Elias Region
Natural Divisions of Glaciers
Alpine Glaciers
Characteristics of Alpine Glaciers above the Snow-Line
Characteristics of Alpine Glaciers below the Show-Line
Piedmont Glaciers

Part V—Height and Position of Mount St. Elias

Appendix A—Official Instructions governing the Expedition

Appendix B—Report on topographic Work; by Mark B. Kerr

Appendix C—Report on auriferous Sands from Yakutat Bay; by J. Stanley-
Brown

Appendix D—Report on fossil Plants; by Lester F. Ward

Index

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Plate 2—Sketch Map of Alaska
3—Map of the St. Elias Region, after La Pérouse
4—Map of the Eastern Shore of Yakutat Bay, after Dixon
5—Map of the St. Elias Region, after Malaspina
6—Map of Bay de Monti, after Malaspina
7—Map of Disenchantment Bay, after Malaspina
8—Sketch Map of St. Elias Region, by Mark B. Kerr
9—The Hubbard Glacier; drawn from Photograph by A. L. Broadbent
10—Wall of Ice on Eastern Side of the Atrevida Glacier; from a
Photograph
11—View on the Atrevida Glacier; from a Photograph
12—Entrance of an Ice-Tunnel; from a Photograph
13—Deltas in an Abandoned Lake-Bed; from a Photograph
14—A River on the Lucia Glacier; from a Photograph (reproduced from
The Century, April, 1891)
15—Entrance to a Glacial Tunnel; from a Photograph
16—View of the Malaspina Glacier from Blossom Island; from a
Photograph
17—Moraines on the Marvine Glacier; from a Photograph
18—View of the Hitchcock Range from near Dome Pass
19—View of Mount St. Elias from Dome Pass; drawn from a Photograph
20—View of Mount St. Elias from Seward Glacier; drawn from a
Photograph

Figure 1—Diagram illustrating the Formation of Icebergs
2—View of a glacial Lakelet; from a Photograph
3—Section of a glacial Lakelet
4—Diagram illustrating the Formation of marginal Crevasses
5—Crevasses near Pinnacle Pass; from a Photograph
6—Snow Crests on Ridges and Peaks; from Field Sketches

7—Faulted Pebble from Pinnacle Pass
8—Faulted Pebble from Pinnacle Pass

INTRODUCTION.

THE SOUTHERN COAST OF ALASKA.

The southern coast of Alaska is remarkable for the regularity of its general
outline. If a circle a thousand miles in diameter be inscribed on a map of the
northern Pacific with a point in about latitude 54° and longitude 145° as a
center, a large part of its northern periphery will be found to coincide with the
southern shore of Alaska between Dixon entrance on the east and the Alaska
peninsula on the west. On the northern part of this great coast-circle lies the
region explored in the summer of 1890 and described in the following pages.

From Cross sound, at the northern end of the great system of islands forming
southeastern Alaska, westward along the base of the Fairweather range, the
mountains are exceedingly rugged, and present some of the finest coast
scenery in the world. There are but two inlets east of Yakutat bay on this shore
which afford shelter even for small boats. These are Lituya bay and Dry bay.
Ships may enter Lituya bay, at certain stages of the tide, and find a safe harbor
within; but the approaches to Dry bay are not navigable. West of Yakutat bay
the coast is equally inhospitable all the way to Prince William sound.

As if to compensate for the lack of refuge on either end, there is in the center
of this great stretch of rock-bound coast, over 300 miles in extent, a
magnificent inlet known as Yakutat bay, in which a thousand ships could find
safe anchorage. On some old maps this bay is designated as "Baie de Monti,"
"Admiralty bay" and "Bering bay," as will be seen when its discovery and
history are discussed on another page.

The southern shore of Alaska, for a distance of 200 miles along the bases of
the Fairweather and St. Elias ranges, is formed of a low table-land intervening
between the mountains and the sea. Yakutat bay is the only bight in this
plateau sufficiently deep to reach the mountain to the northward. This bay has
a broad opening to the sea; the distance between its ocean capes is twenty
miles, and its extension inland is about the same. Its eastern shore is fringed
with low, wooded islands, among which are sheltered harbors, safe from every
wind that blows. The most accessible of these is Port Mulgrave, near its
entrance on the eastern side.

The shores of Yakutat bay, on both the east and the west, are low and densely
wooded for a distance of twenty-five miles from the ocean, where the foot-
hills of the mountains begin. At the head of the bay the land rises in steep
bluffs and forms picturesque mountains, snow-capped the year round. These
highlands, although truly mountainous in their proportions, are but the foot-
hills of still nobler uplifts immediately northward. The bay extends through an
opening in the first range to the base of the white peaks beyond. This opening
was examined a century ago by explorers in search of the delusive "Northwest
passage," in the hope that it would lead to the long-sought "Strait of Annan"—
the dream of many voyagers. It was surveyed by the expedition in command
of Malaspina in 1792, and on account of his frustrated hopes was named
"Puerto del Desengaño," or "Disenchantment bay," as it has been rendered by
English writers.

The waters of Yakutat and Disenchantment bays are deep, and broken only by
islands and reefs along their eastern shores. A few soundings made in
Disenchantment bay within half a mile of the land showed a depth of from 40
to 120 fathoms. The swell of the ocean is felt up to the very head of the inlet,
indicating, as was remarked to me by Captain C. L. Hooper, that there are no
bars or reefs to break the force of the incoming swells.

The lowlands bordering Yakutat bay on the southeast are composed of
assorted glacial débris. Much of the country is low and swampy, and is
reported to contain numerous lakelets. Northwest of the bay the plateau is
higher than toward the southeast, and has a general elevation of about 500 feet
at a distance of a mile from the shore; but the height increases toward the
interior, where a general elevation of 1,500 feet is attained over large areas.
All of this plateau, excepting a narrow fringe along the shore, is formed by a
great glacier, belonging to what is termed in this paper the Piedmont type.

There are many reasons for believing that the plateau southeast of Yakutat bay
was at one time covered by a glacier similar to the one now existing on the
northwest.1
1
This matter will be discussed in part IV of this paper, where it is also shown that Yakutat bay
itself was formerly occupied by glacial ice.

The mountains on the northern border of the seaward-stretching table-lands,
both southeast and northwest of Yakutat bay, are abrupt and present steep
southward-facing bluffs. This escarpment is formed of stratified sandstones
and shales, and owes its origin to the upheaval of the rocks along a line of
fracture. In other words, it is a gigantic fault scarp. The gravel and bowlders
forming the plateau extending oceanward have been accumulating on a
depressed orographic block (or mass of strata moved as a unit by mountain-
making forces), which has undergone some movement in very recent times, as
is recorded by a terrace on the fault scarp bordering it. West of Yakutat the
geological structure is more complex, and long mountain spurs project into the
platform of ice skirting the ocean. Filling the valleys between the mountain
spurs, there are many large seaward-flowing glaciers, tributary to the great
Piedmont ice-sheet.

This brief sketch of the geography of Yakutat bay, together with the
accompanying outline map of Alaska (plate 2), will, it is hoped, aid in making
intelligible the following historical sketch and the narrative of the present
expedition.

PART I.

PREVIOUS EXPLORATIONS IN THE ST. ELIAS REGION.2
2
For more complete bibliographic references than space will allow in this paper, the reader is
referred to Dall and Baker's "Partial list of books, pamphlets, papers in serials, journals and other
publications on Alaska and adjacent regions;" in Pacific Coast Pilot: Coasts and Inlets of Alaska;
second series. U. S. Coast and Geodetic Survey, Washington, 1879; 4°, pp. 225–375.

BERING, 1741.

The first discovery of the southern coast of Alaska was made by Vitus Bering
and Alexei Cherikof, in the vessels St. Peter and St. Paul, in 1741. On July 20
of that year, Bering saw the mountains of the mainland, but anchored his

vessels at Kyak island, 180 miles west of Yakutat bay, without touching the
continental shore. A towering, snow-clad summit northeast of Kyak island was
named "Mount St. Elias," after the patron saint of the day.

COOK, 1778.

The next explorer to visit this portion of Alaska was Captain James Cook, who
sailed past the entrance of Yakutat bay on May 4, 1778. Thinking that this was
the bay in which Bering anchored, he named it "Bering's bay." Mount St. Elias
was seen in the northwest at a distance of 40 leagues, but no attempt was made
to measure its height.

LA PÉROUSE, 1786.3
3
Voyage de la Pérouse autour du monde. Four vols., 4°, and atlas; Paris, 1797; vol. 2, pp. 130–
150.

Yakutat bay, in which we are specially interested, was next seen by the
celebrated French navigator, J. F. G. de la Pérouse, in command of the frigates
La Boussole and L'Astrolabe, on June 23, 1786.

The chart showing the route followed by La Pérouse during this portion of his
voyage is reproduced in plate 3. In the splendid atlas accompanying the
narrative of his travels, the explorer pictures the quaint, high-pooped vessels in
which he circumnavigated the globe. These French frigates were the first to
cruise off Yakutat bay. The last vessel to navigate those waters was the United
States revenue steamer Corwin, which took our little exploring party on board
in September, 1890, and then steamed northward to the ice-cliffs at the head of
Disenchantment bay. So far as I am aware, the Corwin is the only vessel that
has floated on the waters of that inlet north of Haenke island. One hundred
years has made a revolution in naval architecture, but has left this portion of
the Alaska coast still unexplored.

La Pérouse sailed northward from the Sandwich islands, and first saw land,
which proved to be a portion of the St. Elias range, on June 23. At first the
shore was obscured by fog, which, as stated in the narrative of the voyage,
"suddenly disappearing, all at once disclosed to us a long chain of mountains
covered with snow, which, if the weather had been clear, we would have been
able to have seen thirty leagues farther off. We discovered Bering's Mount
Saint Elias, the summit of which appeared above the clouds."

The first view of the land is described as not awakening the feelings of joy
which usually accompany the first view of an unknown shore after a long
voyage. To quote the navigator's own words:

"Those immense heaps of snow, which covered a barren land without trees, were far from
agreeable to our view. The mountains appeared a little remote from the sea, which broke against a

bold and level land, elevated about a hundred and fifty or two hundred fathoms. This black rock,
which appeared as if calcined by fire, destitute of all verdure, formed a striking contrast to the
whiteness of the snow, which was perceptible through the clouds; it served as the base to a long
ridge of mountains, which appeared to stretch fifteen leagues from east to west. At first we
thought ourselves very near it, the summit of the mountains appeared to be just over our heads,
and the snow cast forth a brightness calculated to deceive eyes not accustomed to it; but in
proportion as we advanced we perceived in front of the high ground hillocks covered with trees,
which we took for islands."

After some delay, on account of foggy weather, an officer was despatched to
the newly discovered land; but on returning he reported that there was no
suitable anchorage to be found. It is difficult at this time to understand the
reason for this adverse report, unless a landing was attempted on the western
side of Yakutat bay, where there are no harbors.

The name "Baie de Monti" was given to the inlet in honor of De Monti, the
officer who first landed. The location of this bay, as described in the narrative
and indicated on the map accompanying the report of the voyage, shows that it
corresponds with the Yakutat bay of modern maps.

Observations made at this time by M. Dagelet, the astronomer of the
expedition, determined the elevation of Mount St. Elias to be 1,980 toises.
Considering the toise as equivalent to 6.39459 English feet, this measurement
places the elevation of the mountain at 12,660 feet. What method was used in
making this measurement is not recorded, and we have therefore no means of
deciding the degree of confidence to be placed in it.

After failing to find an anchorage at Yakutat bay. La Pérouse sailed eastward,
and on June 29 discovered another bay, which he supposed to be the inlet
named "Bering's bay" by Captain Cook. It will be remembered that Cook's
"Bering's bay" is Yakutat bay as now known. It is evident that the French
navigator made an error in his identification, as the inlet designated as
Bering's bay on his chart corresponds with that now known as Dry bay. On the
maps referred to, a stream is represented as emptying into the head of this bay
and rising a long distance northward; this is evidently Alsek river, the
existence of which was for a long time doubted, but has recently been
established beyond all question.

Finding it impossible to enter Dry bay, La Pérouse continued eastward and
discovered Lituya bay, as now known, but which he named "Port des
Francais." Here his ships anchored, after experiencing great difficulty in
entering the harbor, and remained for many days, during which trade was
carried on with the Indians, while surveys were made of the adjacent shores.

DIXON, 1787.4
4
The Voyage around the World; but more particularly to the Northwest Coast of America.
Performed in 1788–1789, in the King George and Queen Charlotte; Captains Portlock and Dixon:
4°, London, 1789.

Although the actual discovery of Yakutat bay is to be credited to the French,
the first exploration of its shores was made by an English captain. On May 23,
1787, Captain George Dixon anchored his vessel, the Queen Charlotte, within
the shelter of its southeastern cape, and, in honor of Constance John Phipps,
Lord Mulgrave, named the haven there discovered "Port Mulgrave." The
harbor is described in the narrative of Dixon's voyage as being "entirely
surrounded by low, flat islands, where scarcely any snow could be seen, and
well sheltered from any winds whatever."

The voyage of the Queen Charlotte was not made for the purpose of
increasing geographic knowledge, but with a commercial object. Trade was at
once opened with the natives, but resulted less favorably than was desired, as
only sixteen sea-otter skins and a few less valuable furs were secured.

On the chart accompanying the narrative of Dixon's voyage the inlet now
known as Yakutat bay is named "Admiralty bay."

A survey of the adjacent shores and inlets was made, and the astronomical
position of the anchorage was approximately determined. The map resulting
from these surveys, the first ever made of any portion of Yakutat bay, is
reproduced on a reduced scale as plate 4.

At the time of Dixon's voyage, the inhabitants numbered about seventy,
including men, women, and children, and were thus described:

"They are of about middle size, their limbs straight and well shaped, but, like the rest of the
inhabitants we have seen on the coast, are particularly fond of painting their faces with a variety
of colors, so that it is not any easy matter to discover their real complexion."

An amusing instance is narrated of inducing a woman to wash her face, when
it was discovered that—

"Her countenance had all the cheerful glow of an English milk maid, and the healthy red which
flushed her cheeks was even beautifully contrasted with the whiteness of her neck; her eyes were
black and sparkling; her eyebrows the same color, and most beautifully arched; her forehead so
remarkably clear that the transparent veins were seen meandering even in their minutest branches
—in short, she was what would be reckoned as handsome even in England. The symmetry of her
features, however, was marred, at least in the eyes of her English admirer, by the habit of wearing
a labret in the slit of her lower lip."

During our recent visit to Port Mulgrave we did not find the native women
answering to the glowing description of the voyager who discovered the
harbor; but this may be owing to the fact that we did not prevail upon any of
them to wash their faces.

One other discrepancy must be noted between the records of Dixon's voyage
and my own observations, made one hundred years later. The houses of the
natives are described in the narrative just cited as—

"The most wretched hovels that can possibly be conceived: a few poles stuck in the ground,
without order or regularity, recrossed and covered with loose boards, ... quite insufficient to keep
out the snow and rain."

While this description would apply to the temporary shelters now used by the
Yakutat Indians when on their summer hunting and fishing expeditions, it by
no means describes the houses in which they pass the winter. These are large
and substantially built of planks hewn from spruce trees, and in some
instances supported from the inside by four huge posts, carved and painted to
represent grotesque figures. In the center of the roof there is a large opening
through which the smoke escapes from the fire kindled in an open space in the

floor. But few of the Indian villages of Alaska, excepting perhaps the homes of
the Thlinkets in the Alexandrian archipelago, are better built or more
comfortable than those at Port Mulgrave.

On the map of Port Mulgrave already referred to, "Point Turner" and "Point
Carrew" appear. The former was named for the second mate of the Queen
Charlotte, who was the first of her officers to land; the second name was
probably designed to honor another officer of the expedition, but of this I am
not positive.

DOUGLAS, 1788.5
5
Voyage of the Iphigenia; Captain Douglas: in Voyages made in the years 1788–1789 from China
to the Northwest Coast of America. John Meares, 4°, London, 1790.

In 1788, another trading vessel, the ship Iphigenia, in command of Captain
Douglas, visited the southern shore of Alaska and anchored in Yakutat bay; but
no special account of the country or the inhabitants is recorded in the narrative
of the voyage.

MALASPINA, 1792.6
6
Relacion del viage hecho por las goletas Sutil y Mexicana en el año de 1792 para reconocer el
estrecho de Fuca; con una introduccion en que se da noticia de las expediciones executadas
anteriormente por los Españoles en busca del paso del noroeste de la América [Por Don Dionisio
Alcala Galiano]. Madrid, 1802 [accompanied by an atlas]. Pp. CXII–CXXI.

About a hundred years ago the interest felt by the maritime nations of Europe
in a "Northwest passage," connecting the northern Atlantic with the northern
Pacific, was revived by the renewal of the discussion as to the authenticity of
Maldonado's reported discovery of the "Strait of Annan." The western
entrance to this strait was supposed to be about in the position of Yakutat bay.
Spain, in particular, after three hundred years of exploration and discovery in
all parts of the world, was still anxious to extend her conquests, and, if
possible, to discover the long-sought "Northwest passage." Two of her ships,
the Descubierta and Atrevida, were then at Acapulco, in command of Don
Alejandro Malaspina, who was engaged in a voyage of discovery.

Malaspina, like Columbus, was a native of Italy in the service of Spain. Orders
were sent to him to cruise northward and test the truth of Maldonado's report.
The narrative of this voyage is supposed to have been written by Don Dionisio
Alcala Galiano, but his name does not appear on the title page. Still more
curious is the fact that Malaspina's name is omitted from the narrative of his
own voyage. On his return to Spain, he was thrown into prison, on account of
court intrigues, and his discoveries were suppressed for many years.

Malaspina left Acapulco on the first of May, 1791, and reached the vicinity of
the present site of Sitka on June 25. Two days later, Mount Fairweather, or
"Monte Buen-tiempo," as it is designated on Spanish maps, was sighted.
Continuing northwestward, the entrance to Yakutat bay was reached. The
opening through the first range of mountains at its head seemed to correspond
to Maldonado's description of the entrance to the mythical "Strait of Annan."

The eastern shore of Yakutat bay, called "Almiralty bay" on the Spanish chart,
was explored, and an excursion was made in boats into Disenchantment bay as
far as Haenke island. "Disenchantment bay," as the name appears on modern
charts, was named "Desengaño bay" by Malaspina, as previously stated, in
allusion to the frustration of his hopes on not finding a passage leading to the
Atlantic. Explorations in Disenchantment bay were checked by ice, which
descended from the north and filled all of the inlets north of Haenke island.
This is indicated on the map forming plate 7 (page 67), which is reproduced
from the atlas accompanying the narrative of Malaspina's voyage. Special
interest attaches to this map for the reason that by comparing it with that
forming plate 8 (page 75), made 100 years later, the retreat of the glaciers
during that interval can be determined.7 At the time of Malaspina's expedition,
the Hubbard and Dalton glaciers were united, and were probably also joined
by some of the neighboring glaciers which do not now reach tide-water; the
whole forming a confluent ice stream which occupied all of Disenchantment
bay northeast of Haenke island.
7
It must be remembered, however, that the map, plate 8, is not from detailed surveys; the portion
referred to was sketched from a few stations only and is much generalized.

A portion of the general map of the coast of southern Alaska, showing the
route followed by the Descubierta and the Atrevida, and depicting the
topography of the adjacent shores, has been reproduced in plate 5. It will be
noticed that on this map Lituya bay is called "Pt. des Francais," while Dry bay

is designated as "Bering's bay." These and other names were adopted from the
maps of La Pérouse. A map of "Bahia de Monti," from Malaspina's report, is
reproduced in plate 6.

MAP OF THE ST. ELIAS REGION, AFTER MALASPINA

An extract from Galiano's account of Malaspina's discoveries in Yakutat and
Disenchantment bays,8 translated by Robert Stein, of the U. S. Geological
Survey, is here inserted, in order that the reader may be able to form an
independent judgment of the value of the evidence just referred to as bearing
on the retreat of the glaciers:

"An observatory was established on shore, and some absolute altitudes were taken in order to
furnish a basis for the reckoning of the watches; but the great concourse of Indians, their
importunity and thievishness, made it necessary to transfer all the instruments on board. Still the
latitude was determined, the watches were regulated, the number of oscillations made by the
simple pendulum was observed, and the height of Mount St. Elias was measured, being 6,507.6
varas [17,847 feet] above sea-level. The launches being ready, put to sea on July 2 with the
commander of the expedition, in order to reconnoitre the channel promised by the opening,
similar to that depicted by Ferrer Maldonado in his voyage; but the small force of the tide noticed
at the entrance, and the indications of the natives, made it plain not only that the desired passage
did not exist there, but that the extent of the channel was very short; which was also rendered

evident by the perpetual frost covering the inner west shore. The launches anchored there, having
penetrated into the channel with great difficulty, the oars being clogged by the floating masses of
snow; they measured a base, made some marks, gathered various objects and stones for the
naturalists, and, having reached the line of perpetual frost, returned to the bay where they had
anchored.9 They there observed the latitude to be 59° 59' 30", and six azimuths of the sun, which
gave the variation of the needle as 32° 49'. Before leaving that anchorage the commander buried a
bottle with record of the reconnoissance and possession taken in the name of the king. They called
the harbor Desangaño, the opening Bahia de las Bancas, and the island in the interior Haenke, in
memory of D. Tadeo Haenke, botanist and naturalist of the expedition. On the third day they set
out on their voyage to Mulgrave, where they arrived on the 6th, after reconnoitering various
channels and islands north of that port and mapping them."

8
Ibid., pp. XCIV–CXVI.

9
On the coast of the mainland east of Knight island.—I. C. R.

Following the portion of the narrative above quoted, there is an account of the
natives, containing much information of interest to ethnologists, but which it is
not necessary to follow in a geographic report. On July 5 the corvettes sailed
westward, and made a reconnoissance as far as Montegue island. Returning
eastward, they again sighted Mount St. Elias on July 22.

"On the 28th they were three leagues west of the capes which terminate in Bering bay [Dry bay];
the mountain of that name being about five leagues distant from the coast and rising 5,368.3 varas
[14,722 feet] above the sea-level, and in latitude 59° 0' 42" and longitude 2° 4' from Port
Mulgrave."

Mount Bering does not appear on any map that I have seen. Which of the
numerous high peaks in the vicinity of Dry bay should be designated by that
name remains to be determined.

In a record of the astronomical work of Malaspina's expedition10 there are
some interesting observations on the position and elevation of Mount St. Elias,
a translation of which, by Mr. Stein, is here given:

"True longitude of Mulgrave west of Cadiz, 133° 24' 12". On the same day, the 30th of June
[1792], at the observatory of Mulgrave, at 6h. 30' in the morning, the true altitude of the sun was
observed to be 16° 14' 20", and its inclination being 23° 11' 30" and the latitude 59° 34' 20", the
true azimuth of the sun from north to east was concluded to be 71° 43' 0". But having measured

on the same occasion with the theodolite 110° 33' from the sun's vertical to the vertical of Mount
St. Elias, the difference between these two quantities is the astronomic azimuth. Hence, from the
observatory of Mulgrave, said mountain bears N. 38° 50' W., a distance of 55.1 miles, deduced by
means of good observations from the ends of a sufficient base. A quadrant was used to measure
the angle of apparent altitude of the mountain, 2° 38' 6", and allowing for terrestrial refraction,
which is one-tenth of the distance of 55.1 miles, the true altitude was found to be 2° 34' 39";
whence its elevation above sea-level was concluded to be 2,793 toises [17,860 feet], and the
length of the tangent to the horizon, 152 miles, allowance being made for the increase due to
terrestrial refraction....

"Lastly, with the rhumb, or astronomic azimuth, and the distance from the observatory of
Mulgrave to Mount St. Elias, it was ascertained that that mountain was 43' 15" to the north and 1°
9' to the west, whence its latitude is found to be 60° 17' 35" and its longitude 134° 33' 10" west of
Cadiz."

10
Memorias sobre las observaciones astronomicas hechas por les navegantes Españoles en
distintos lugares del globe; Por Don Josef Espinosa y Tello. Madrid, en la Imprente real, Año de
1809, 2 vols., large 8°; vol. 1, pp. 57–60.

Taking the longitude of Cadiz as 6° 19' 07" W. (San Sebastian light-house), the
longitude of St. Elias from this determination would be 140° 52' 17" W.

VANCOUVER, 1794.11
11
A Voyage of Discovery to the Northern Pacific Ocean and around the World, 1790–'95; new
edition, 6 vols., London, 1801. The citations which follow are from vol. 5, pp. 348–407.

The next vessels to visit Yakutat bay after Malaspina's voyage, so far as
known, were the Discovery and Chatham, under command of Captain George
Vancouver. This voyage increased knowledge of the geography of southern
Alaska more than any that preceded it, and was also of greater importance
than any single expedition of later date to that region. The best maps of
southern Alaska published at the present day are based largely on the surveys
of Vancouver.

The Discovery, under the immediate command of Vancouver, and the
Chatham, in charge of Peter Puget, cruised eastward along the southern coast
of Alaska in 1794. The Discovery passed the entrance to Yakutat bay without

stopping, but the Chatham anchored there, and important surveys were carried
on under Puget's directions.

On June 28, the Discovery was in the vicinity of Icy bay, where the shore of
the ocean seemed to be composed of solid ice. Eastward from Icy bay the
coast is described as "bordered by lowlands rising with a gradual and uniform
ascent to the foot-hills of lofty mountains, whose summits are but the base
from which Mount St. Elias towers magnificently into the regions of perpetual
frost." A low projecting point on the western side of the entrance to Yakutat
bay was named "Point Manby." The coast beyond this toward the northeast
became less wooded, and seemed to produce only a brownish vegetation,
which farther eastward entirely disappeared. The country was then bare and
composed of loose stones. The narrative contains an interesting account of the
grand coast scenery from St. Elias to the eastern end of the Fairweather range;
but this does not at present claim attention.

While the Chatham continued her cruise eastward, Puget ascended Yakutat
bay nearly to its head, and also navigated some of the channels between the
islands along its eastern shore. A cape on the eastern side, where the bay
penetrates the first range of foot-hills, was named "Point Latouche;" but the
same landmark had previously been designated "Pa. de la Esperanza" by
Malaspina. The bay at the head of the inlet, which Malaspina had named
"Desangaño," was named "Digges sound," after one of the officers of the
Chatham. Boats were sent to explore this inlet, but found it "closed from side
to side by a firm, compact body of ice, beyond which, to the back of the ice, a
small inlet appeared to extend N. 55° E. about a league."12
12
Vancouver's Voyage, vol. 5, p. 389.

These observations confirm those made by Malaspina and indicated on the
chart reproduced on plate 7, where the ice front is represented as reaching as
far south as Haenke island.

The evidence furnished by Malaspina and Vancouver as to the former extent of
the glaciers at the head of Yakutat bay is in harmony with observations made

by Vancouver's party in Icy strait and Cross sound.13 Early in July, 1794, these
straits were found to be heavily encumbered with floating ice. At the present
time but little ice is met with in that region. On Vancouver's charts there is no
indication that he was aware of the existence of Glacier bay, although one of
his officers, in navigating Icy strait, passed its immediate entrance. These
records, although somewhat indefinite and of negative character, indicate that
the fields of floating ice at the mouth of Glacier bay were much more
extensive a hundred years ago than at present; but they do not show where the
glaciers of that region formerly terminated.
13
Ibid., pp. 417–421.

After the return of the Chatham's boats from the exploration of
Disenchantment bay, an exploration of the eastern shore of Yakutat bay was
made. The following extract indicates the character of work done there:

"Digges' sound [Disenchantment bay] was the only place in the bay that presented the least
prospect of any interior navigation, and this was necessarily very limited by the close connected
range of lofty snowy mountains that stretched along the coast at no great distance from the
seaside. Mr. Puget's attention was next directed to the opening in the low land, but as the wind
was variable and adverse to the progress of the vessel, a boat was again despatched to continue the
investigation of these shores, which are compact from Point Latouche and were then free from
ice. This opening was found to be formed by an island about two miles long, in a direction S. 50°
E. and N. 50° W., and about a mile broad, lying at the distance of about half a mile from the
mainland. Opposite to the south part of this, named by Mr. Puget KNIGHT'S ISLAND, is Eleanor's
cove, which is the eastern extremity of Beering's [Yakutat] bay, in latitude 59° 44', longitude 220°
51'. Knight's island admits of a navigable passage all round it, but there is an islet situated
between it and the mainland on its northeast side. From Eleanor's cove the coast takes a direction
S. 30° W. about six miles to the east point of a channel leading to the southwest between the
continent and some islands that lie off it. This was considered to lead along the shores of the
mainland to Point Mulgrave, and in the event of its proving navigable, the examination of the bay
would have been complete, and the vessel brought to our appointed place of meeting, which was
now supposed to be no very great distance."

In endeavoring to reach Port Mulgrave by a channel leading between the
islands on the eastern side of the bay and the mainland, the Chatham
grounded, and was gotten off with considerable difficulty. Many observations
concerning the geography and the natives are recorded in the narrative of this
exploration.

BELCHER, 1837.14
14
Narrative of a Voyage round the World, performed in the ship Sulphur during the years 1836–
1842; by Captain Sir Edward Belcher: 2 vols., 8°, London, 1843.

The next account15 of explorations around Yakutat bay that has come to hand is
by Sir Edward Belcher, who visited that coast in Her Majesty's ship Sulphur in
1837.
15
A fort was built by the Russians, in 1795, on the strip of land separating Bay de Monti from the
ocean, and was colonized by convicts from Russia. In 1803, all of the settlers were killed and the
fort was destroyed by the Yakutat Indians. So complete was this massacre that no detailed account
of it has ever appeared. (Alaska and its Resources, by W. H. Dall, 1870, pp. 316, 317, 323.)

In the narrative of this voyage, a brief account is given of the ice cliffs at Icy
bay, which are stated to have a height of about thirty feet and to present the
appearance of veined marble. Where the ice was exposed to the sea it was
excavated into alcoves and archways, recalling to the narrator's mind the
Chalk cliffs of England. "Point Riou," as named by Vancouver, was not
recognized, and the inference seems to be that it was formed of ice and was
dissolved away between the visits of Vancouver and Belcher.

Accompanying the narrative of Belcher's voyage is an illustration showing
Mount St. Elias as it appears from the sea near Icy bay, which represents the
mountain more accurately than some similar pictures published more recently.

The Sulphur anchored in Port Mulgrave; but no account is given of the
character of the surrounding country.

TEBENKOF, 1852.16
16
Atlas of the Northwest Coast of America from Bering strait to Cape Corrientes and the Aleutian
Islands [etc.]: 2°, St. Petersburg, 1852. With index and hydrographic observations: 8°, St.
Petersburg, 1852.

Tebenkof's notes, which are often referred to by writers on Alaska, consist
principally of compilations from reports of Russian traders, which were

intended to accompany and explain an atlas of the shores of northwestern
America, published in 1852 in St. Petersburg and in Sitka.

Map number 7 of the atlas represents the southern coast of Alaska from Lituya
bay westward to Icy bay. On the same sheet there is a more detailed chart of
the islands along the eastern border of Yakutat bay.

The height of St. Elias is given as 17,000 feet; its position, latitude 61° 2' 6"
and longitude 140° 4', distant 30 miles from the sea.17 It is stated that in 1839
the mountain "began at times to smoke through a crater on its southeastern
slope." At the time of an earthquake at Sitka (1847) it is said to have emitted
flames and ashes.
17
In a foot-note on page 33 it is stated that Captain Vasilef, in the ship Otkrytie (Discovery),
ascertained the height of Mount Fairweather to be 13,946 feet.

It will be seen from the account of the exploration carried on last summer that
Mount St. Elias is composed of stratified rocks, with no indication of volcanic
origin; and these reports of eruption must consequently be considered
erroneous.

The low country between Mount St. Elias and the sea is described by
Tebenkof as a tundra covered with forests and grass; "through cracks in the
gravelly soil, ice could be seen beneath." More recent knowledge shows that
this statement also is erroneous. The adjacent ocean is stated to be shallow,
with shelving bottom; at a distance of half a verst, five to twelve fathoms were
obtained, and at two miles from land, thirty to forty fathoms (of seven feet).

The Pimpluna rocks are said to have been discovered in 1779 by the Spanish
captain Arteiga. They were also seen in 1794 by the helmsman Talin, in the
ship Orel, and named after his vessel. These observations are interesting, and
indicate that possibly there may be submerged moraines in the region where
these rocks are reported to exist.

Many other observations are recorded concerning the mountains and the bays
in the vicinity of Yakutat. While of interest to navigation and to geographers,
these have no immediate connection with the region explored during the
recent expedition.

UNITED STATES COAST AND GEODETIC SURVEY, 1874,18 1880.19
18
Appendix No. 10, Report of the Superintendent of the U. S. Coast Survey for the year 1875:
Washington, 1878, pp. 157–188.

19
Pacific Coast Pilot, Alaska, part 1: Washington, 1883, p. 212.

The surveys carried on in 1874 by the United States Coast Survey on the
shores of Alaska embraced the region about Yakutat bay. They were conducted
by W. H. Dall and Marcus Baker. Besides the survey of the coast-line,
determinations were made of the heights and positions of several mountain
peaks between Glacier bay and Cook inlet. Dall's account of this survey
contains a brief sketch of previous explorations and a summary of the
measurements of the higher peaks of the region. This material has been used
on another page in discussing the height of Mount St. Elias.

Besides the geographic data gathered by the United States Coast Survey, many
observations were made on geology and on the glaciers of the region about
Yakutat bay and Mount St. Elias. Exception must be taken, in the light of more
recent explorations, to some of the conclusions reached in this connection, as
will appear in the chapter devoted to geology and glaciers.

A description of the St. Elias region in the Pacific Coast Pilot supplements the
paper in the coast survey report for 1875. This is an exhaustive compilation
from all available sources of information interesting to navigators. It contains,
besides, a valuable summary of what was known at the time of its publication
concerning the history and physical features of the country to which it relates.
In this publication the true character of the Malaspina glacier was first
recorded and its name proposed. The description is as follows:

"At Point Manby and eastward to the Kwik river the shore was bordered by trees, apparently
willows and alders, with a somewhat denser belt a little farther back. Behind this rises a bluff or
bank of high land, as described by various navigators. About the vicinity of Tebienkoff's Nearer
Point the trees cease, but begin again near the river. The bluff or table-land behind rises higher
than the river valley and completely hides it from the southward, and is in summer bare of
vegetation (except a few rare patches on its face) and apparently is composed of glacial débris,
much of which is of a reddish color. In May, 1874, when observed by the U. S. Coast Survey party
of that year, the extensive flattened top of this table-land or plateau was covered with a smooth

and even sheet of pure white snow. In the latter part of June, 1880, however, this snow had
melted, and for the first time the real and most extraordinary character of this plateau was
revealed. Within the beach and extending in a northwesterly direction to the valley behind it, at
the foot of the St. Elias Alps an undetermined distance, this plateau, or a large part of it, is one
great field of buried ice. Almost everywhere nothing is visible but bowlders, dirt and gravel; but at
the time mentioned, back of the bight between Point Manby and Nearer Point, for a space of
several square miles the coverlid of dirt had fallen in, owing to the melting of the ice beneath, and
revealed a surface of broken pinnacles of ice, each crowned by a patch of dirt, standing close to
one another like a forest of prisms, these decreasing in height from the summit of the plateau
gradually in a sort of semicircular sweep toward the beach, near which, however, the dirt and
débris again predominate, forming a sort of terminal moraine to this immense, buried, immovable
glacier, for it is nothing else. Trains of large bowlders were visible here and there, and the general
trend of the glacier seemed to be northwest and southeast.

"Between Disenchantment bay and the foot of Mount St. Elias, on the flanks of the Alps,
seventeen glaciers were counted, of which about ten were behind this plateau, but none are of very
large size, and the sum total of them all seemed far too little to supply the waste of the plateau if it
were to possess motion. The lower ends of these small glaciers come down into the river valley
before mentioned and at right angles in general to the trend of the plateau. To the buried glacier
the U. S. Coast Survey has applied the name of Malaspina, in honor of that distinguished and
unfortunate explorer. No connection could be seen between the small glaciers and the Malaspina
plateau, as the former dip below the level of the summit of the latter. The Malaspina had no névé,
nor was there any high land in the direction of its axis as far as the eye could reach. Everywhere,
except where the pinnacles protruded and in a few spots on the face of the bluff, it was covered
with a thick stratum of soil, gravel and stones, here and there showing small patches of bright
green herbage. The bluff westward from Point Manby may probably prove of the same character."

Mount Cook and Mount Vancouver are named in the Pacific Coast Pilot, and
their elevations and positions are definitely stated. Mount Malaspina was also
named, but its position is not given. During the expedition of last summer it
was found impracticable to decide definitely to which peak the name of the
great navigator was applied. So existing nomenclature was followed as nearly
as possible by attaching Malaspina's name to a peak about eleven miles east of
Mount St. Elias. Its position is indicated on the accompanying map, plate 8
(page 75).

Several charts of the southern coast of Alaska accompany the reports of the
United States Coast Survey for 1875, referred to above. A part of these have
been independently published. These charts were used in mapping the coast-

line as it appears on plate 8, and were frequently consulted while writing the
following pages.

NEW YORK TIMES EXPEDITION, 1886.

An expedition sent out by the New York Times, in charge of Lieutenant
Frederick Schwatka, for the purpose of making geographic explorations and
climbing Mount St. Elias, left Sitka on the U. S. S. Pinta, on July 10, 1886,
and reached Yakutat bay two days later. As it was found impracticable to
obtain the necessary assistance from the Indians to continue the voyage to Icy
bay, whence the start inland was planned to be made, Captain N. E. Nichols,
the commander of the Pinta, concluded to take the expedition to its destination
in his vessel. On July 17 a landing was made through the surf at Icy bay, and
exploration at once began.

The party consisted of Lieutenant Schwatka, in charge; Professor William
Libbey, Jr.; and Lieutenant H. W. Seton-Karr. The camp hands were John
Dalton, Joseph Woods, and several Indian packers.20
20
The accounts of this expedition are as follows: Report from Lieutenant Schwatka in the New
York Times, October 17, 1886; Some of the Geographical Features of Southeastern Alaska, by
William Libbey, Jr., in Bull. Am. Geog. Soc., 1886, pp. 279–300; Shores and Alps of Alaska, by
H. W. Seton-Karr, London, 1887, 8°, pp. L–XCV, 142–148; The Alpine Regions of Alaska, by
Lieutenant Seton-Karr, in Proc. Roy. Geog. Soc., vol. IX, 1887, pp. 269–285; The Expedition of
"The New York Times" (1886), by Lieutenant Schwatka, in The Century Magazine, April, 1891,
pp. 865–872.

From Icy bay the expedition proceeded inland, for about sixteen miles, in a
line leading nearly due north, toward the summit of Mount St. Elias. The
highest point reached, 7,200 feet, was on the foot-hills of the main range now
called the Karr hills. The time occupied by the expedition, after leaving Icy
bay, was nine or ten days. So far as known, no systematic surveys were carried
on.

An interesting account of this expedition appeared in Seton-Karr's book, "The
Shores and Alps of Alaska." Many observations on the glaciers and moraines
of the region explored are recorded in this work. The map published with it
has been used in compiling the western portion of the map forming plate 8,

where the route of the expedition is indicated. Another account, especially
valuable for its records of scientific observations, by Professor Libbey, was
published by the American Geographic Society. The Guyot, Agassiz and
Tyndall glaciers, the Chaix hills, and Lake Castani received their names during
this expedition.

Lieutenant Schwatka's graphic and entertaining account of this expedition,
published in The Century Magazine for April, 1891, gives many details of the
exploration and illustrates many of the characteristic features of southern
Alaska.

TOPHAM EXPEDITION, 1888.

An expedition conducted by Messrs. W. H. and Edwin Topham, of London,
George Broka, of Brussels, and William Williams, of New York, was made in
1888. Like the Times expedition, it had for its main object the ascent of Mount
St. Elias.

Icy bay was reached, by means of canoes from Yakutat bay, on July 13, and an
inland journey was made northward which covered a large part of the area
traversed by the previous expedition. The highest elevation reached, according
to aneroid barometer and boiling-point measurements, was 11,460 feet. This
was on the southern side of St. Elias.

The only accounts of this expedition which have come to my notice are an
interesting article by William Williams in Scribner's Magazine,21 and a more
detailed report by H. W. Topham, accompanied by a map22 and by a fine
illustration of Mount St. Elias, in the Alpine Journal.23
21
New York, April, 1889, pp. 387–403.

22
Topham's map was used in compiling the western portion of the map forming plate 8, and his
route is there indicated.

23
London, August, 1889, pp. 245–371.

This brief review of explorations carried on in the St. Elias region previous to
the expedition sent out in 1890 by the National Geographic Society is

incomplete in many particulars,24 but will indicate the most promising sources
of information concerning the country described in the following pages.
24
Yakutat bay has been visited by vessels of the United States Navy and United States Revenue
Marine and by numerous trading vessels; but reports of observations made during these voyages
have not been found during a somewhat exhaustive search of literature relating to Alaska.

PART II.

NARRATIVE OF THE ST. ELIAS EXPEDITION OF 1890.

ORGANIZATION.

A long-cherished desire to study the geography, geology, and glaciers of the
region around Mount St. Elias was finally gratified when, in the summer of
1890, the National Geographic Society made it possible for me to undertake
an expedition to that part of Alaska.

The expedition was organized under the joint auspices of the National
Geographic Society and the United States Geological Survey, but was greatly
assisted by individuals who felt an interest in the extension of geographic
knowledge. For the inception of exploration and for securing the necessary
funds, credit is due Mr. Willard D. Johnson.

The names of those who subscribed to the exploration fund of the Society are
as follows:

Boynton Leach. Henry Gannett.
Everett Hayden. Charles J. Bell.
Richardson Clover. J. S. Diller.
C. M. McCarteney. J. W. Powell.
C. A. Williams. J. G. Judd.
Willard D. Johnson. A. Graham Bell.
Israel C. Russell. Gardiner G. Hubbard.
Gilbert Thompson. A. W. Greely.
Harry King. J. W. Dobbins.
Morris Bien. J. W. Hays.
Wm. B. Powell. Edmund Alton.
Z. T. Carpenter. Bailey Willis.
Charles Nordhoff. E. S. Hosmer.
Rogers Birnie, Jr.

I was chosen by the Board of Managers of the National Geographic Society
and by the Director of the United States Geological Survey to take charge of
the expedition and to carry on geological and glacial studies. Mr. Mark B.
Kerr, topographer on the Geological Survey, was assigned as an assistant, with
the duty of making a topographical map of the region explored. Mr. E. S.
Hosmer, of Washington, D. C., volunteered his services as general assistant.25
25
Copies of all instructions governing the work of the expedition are given in Appendix A.

Mr. Kerr left Washington on May 24 for San Francisco, where he made
arrangements for his special work, and reported to me at Seattle on June 15. I
left Washington on May 25 and went directly to Seattle, where the necessary
preparations for exploring an unknown and isolated region were made.

From the large number of frontiersmen and sailors who applied for positions
on the expedition, seven men were selected as camp hands. The foreman of
this force was J. H. Christie, of Seattle, who had spent the previous winter in
charge of an expedition in the Olympian mountains, and was well versed in all
that pertains to frontier life. The other camp hands were J. H. Crumback, L. S.
Doney, W. L. Lindsley, William Partridge, Thomas Stamy, and Thomas White.

The individual members of the party will be mentioned frequently during this
narrative; but I wish to state at the beginning that very much of the success of
the enterprise was due to the hard and faithful work of the camp hands, to each
one of whom I feel personally indebted.

Two dogs, "Bud" and "Tweed," belonging to Mr. Christie, also became
members of the expedition.

All camp supplies, including tents, blankets, rations, etc., were purchased at
Seattle. Rations for ten men for one hundred days, on the basis of the
subsistence furnished by the United States Geological Survey, were purchased
and suitably packed for transportation in a humid climate. Twenty-five tin cans
were obtained, each measuring 6 x 12 x 14 inches, and in each a mixed ration
sufficient for one man for fifteen days was packed and hermetically sealed.
These rations, thus secured against moisture and in convenient shape for
carrying on the back (or "packing"), were for use above the timber line, where
cooking was possible only by means of oil stoves. The remainder of the

supplies, intended for use where fuel for camp-fires could be obtained, were
secured either in tin cans or in canvas sacks.

For cooking above timber line, two double-wick oil stoves were provided, the
usual cast-iron bases being replaced by smaller reservoirs of tin, in order to
avoid unnecessary weight. Coal oil was carried in five-gallon cans, but a few
rectangular cans holding one gallon each were provided for use while on the
march. Subsequent experience proved that this arrangement was satisfactory.

Four seven-by-seven tents, with ridge ropes, and two pyramidal nine-by-nine
center-pole tents, with flies, were provided, all made of cotton drilling. The
smaller tents were for use in the higher camps, and the larger ones for the base
camps. The tents were as light as seemed practicable, and were found to
answer well the purpose for which they were intended.

Each man was supplied with one double Hudson Bay blanket, a water-proof
coat, a water-proof hat (the most serviceable being the "sou'westers" used by
seamen), and an alpenstock.26 Each man also carried a sheet made of light
duck, seven feet square, to protect his blankets and to be used as a shelter-tent
if required. Each member of the party was also required to have heavy boots
or shoes, and suitable woolen clothing. Each man was furnished with two
pieces of hemp "cod-line," 50 feet in length, to be used in packing blankets
and rations. The lines were doubled many times, so as to distribute the weight
on the shoulders, and were connected with two leather straps for buckling
about the package to be carried. The cod-lines were used instead of ordinary
pack-straps, for the reason that they distribute the weight on the shoulder over
a broader area, and also because they can be made immediately available for
climbing, crossing streams, etc., when required. Several extra lines of the
same material were also taken as a reserve, or to be used in roping the party
together when necessary. Several of the party carried rifles, for each of which
a hundred rounds of fixed ammunition were issued. Two ice-axes for the party
were also provided.
26
Light rubber cloth was ordered from San Francisco for the purpose of allowing each man a
water-proof sheet to place under his blankets, but was not received in time to be used.

A canvas boat was made by the men while en route for the field, but there was
no occasion to use it, except as a cover for a cache left at one of the earlier

camps. Subsequent experience showed that snow-shoes and one or two sleds
would have been serviceable; but these were not taken.

Our instruments were furnished by the United States Geological Survey. The
list included one transit, one gradienter, one sextant, two prismatic compasses,
one compass clinometer, four pocket thermometers, two psychrometers, one
field-glass, two mercurial barometers, three aneroids, steel tape-lines, and two
photographic outfits.

FROM SEATTLE TO SITKA.

Preparations having been completed, the expedition sailed from Seattle June
16, on the steamer Queen, belonging to the Pacific Coast Steamship Company,
in command of Captain James Carroll, and reached Sitka on the morning of
June 24. This portion of our voyage was through the justly celebrated "inland
passage" of British Columbia and southeastern Alaska, and was in every way
delightful. We touched at Victoria and Wrangell, and, after threading the
Wrangell narrows, entered Frederick sound, where the first floating ice was
seen. The bergs were from a neighboring glacier, which enters the sea at the
head of a deep inlet, too far away to be seen from the course followed by the
Queen. The route northward led through Stephens passage, and afforded
glimpses of glaciers both on the mainland and on Admiralty island. In Taku
inlet several hours were spent in examining the glaciers, two of which come
down to the sea. One on the western side of the fjord, an ice-stream known as
the Norris glacier, descends through a deep valley and expands into a broad
ice-foot on approaching the water, though it is not washed by the waves,
owing to an accumulation of mud about its extremity. Another ice-stream is
the Taku glacier, situated at the head of the inlet. It comes boldly down to the
water, and ends in a splendid sea-cliff of azure blue, some 250 feet high. The
adjacent waters are covered with icebergs shed by the glacier. Some of the
smaller fragments were hoisted on board the Queen for table use. The bold,
rocky shores of the inlet are nearly bare of vegetation, and indicate by their
polished and striated surfaces that glaciers of far greater magnitude than those
now existing formerly flowed through this channel.

After leaving Taku inlet, a day was spent at Juneau; and then the Queen
steamed up Lynn canal to Pyramid harbor, near its head. For picturesque
beauty, this is probably the finest of the fjords of Alaska. Several glaciers on

each side of the inlet come down nearly to the sea, and all the higher
mountains are buried beneath perpetual snow. On returning from Lynn canal,
the Queen visited Glacier bay, and here passengers were allowed a few hours
on shore at the Muir glacier. The day of our visit was unusually fine, and a
splendid view of the great ice-stream with its many tributaries was obtained
from a hill-top about a thousand feet high, on its eastern border. The glacier
discharges into the head of the bay and forms a magnificent line of ice-cliffs
over two hundred feet high and three miles in extent.

This portion of the coast of Alaska has been described by several writers; yet
its bleak shores are still in large part unexplored. To the west of the bay rise
the magnificent peaks of the Fairweather range, from which flow many great
ice-streams. The largest of the glaciers descending from these mountains into
Glacier bay is called the Pacific glacier. Like the Muir glacier, it discharges
vast numbers of icebergs into the sea.

The day after leaving Glacier bay we arrived at Sitka, and as soon as
practicable called on Lieutenant-Commander O. F. Farenholt, of the U. S. S.
Pinta, who had previously received instructions from the Secretary of the
Navy to take us to Yakutak bay. We also paid our respects to the Governor and
other Alaskan officials, and made a few final preparations for the start
westward.

FROM SITKA TO YAKUTAT BAY.

All of our effects having been transferred to the Pinta, we put to sea early on
the morning of June 25.

Honorable Lyman E. Knapp, Governor of Alaska, taking advantage of the
sailing of the Pinta, accompanied us on the voyage. Mr. Henry Boursin,
census enumerator, also joined us for the purpose of obtaining information
concerning the Indians at Yakutak.

The morning we left Sitka was misty, with occasional showers; but even these
unfavorable conditions could not obscure the beauty of the wild, densely
wooded shore along which we steamed. The weather throughout the voyage
was thick and foggy and the sea rough. We anchored in De Monti bay, the first
indentation on the eastern shore of Yakutat bay, late the following afternoon,

without having obtained so much as a glimpse of the magnificent scenery of
the rugged Fairweather range.

At Yakutat we found two small Indian villages, one on Khantaak island and
the other on the mainland to the eastward (both shown on plate 8). The village
on Khantaak island is the older of the two, and consists of six houses built
along the water's edge. The houses are made of planks, each hewn from a
single log, after the manner of the Thlinkets generally. They are rectangular,
and have openings in the roofs, with wind guards, for the escape of smoke.
The fires, around which the families gather, are built in the centers of the
spaces below. The houses are entered by means of oval openings, elevated two
feet above the ground on platforms along their fronts. In the interior of each
there is a rectangular space about twenty feet square surrounded by raised
platforms, the outer portions of which are shut off by partitions and divided
into smaller chambers.

The canoes used at Yakutat are each hewn from a single spruce log, and are
good examples of the boats in use throughout southern Alaska. They are of all
sizes, from a small craft scarcely large enough to hold a single Indian to
graceful boats forty or fifty feet in length and capable of carrying a ton of
merchandise with a dozen or more men. They have high, overreaching stems
and sterns, which give them a picturesque, gondola-like appearance.

The village on the mainland is less picturesque, if such a term may be allowed,
than the group of houses already described, but it is of the same type. Near at
hand, along the shore to the southward, there are two log houses, one of which
is used at present as a mission by Reverend Carl J. Hendriksen and his
assistant, the other being occupied as a trading post by Sitka merchants.

The Yakutat Indians are the most westerly branch of the great Thlinket family
which inhabits all of southeastern Alaska and a portion of British Columbia. In
intelligence they are above the average of Indians generally, and are of a much
higher type than the native inhabitants of the older portion of the United
States. They are quick to learn the ways of the white man, and are especially
shrewd in bargaining. They are canoe Indians par excellence, and pass a large
part of their lives on the water in quest of salmon, seals, and sea-otter. During
the summer of our visit, about thirty sea-otter were taken. They are usually
shot in the primitive manner with copper-pointed arrows, although repeating
rifles of the most improved patterns are owned by the natives, in spite of

existing laws against selling breech-loading arms to Indians. The fur of the
sea-otter is acknowledged to be the most beautiful, and is the most highly
prized of all pelts. Those taken at Yakutat during our visit were sold at an
average price of about seventy-five dollars. This, together with the sale of less
valuable skins and the money received for baskets, etc., made by the women
for the tourist trade in Sitka, brought a considerable revenue to the village.
Improvident, like nearly all Indians, the Yakutat villagers soon spend at the
trading post the money earned in this way.

The Yakutats belong without question to the Thlinket stock; but visits from
tribes farther westward, who travel in skin boats, are known to have been
made, and it seems probable that some mixture of Thlinket and Innuit blood
may occur in the natives at Yakutat. But if such admixture has occurred, the
Innuit element is so small that it escapes the notice of one not skilled in
ethnology.

We found Mr. Hendriksen most kind and obliging, and are indebted to him for
many favors and great assistance. Arrangements were made with him for
reading a base-barometer three times a day during July and August. He also
assisted us by acting as an interpreter, and in hiring Indians and canoes.

The weather continued thick and stormy after reaching Yakutat bay, and
Captain Farenholt did not think it advisable to take his vessel up the main
inlet, where many dangers were reported to exist. A canoe having been
purchased from the trader and others hired from the Indians, a start was made
from the head of Yakutat bay early on the morning of June 28, in company
with two of the Pinta's boats loaded with supplies, under the command of
Ensign C. W. Jungen.

CANOE TRIP UP YAKUTAT BAY.

Bidding good-bye to our friends on the Pinta, to whom we were indebted for
many favors, we started for our trip up the bay in a pouring rain-storm. Our
way at first led through the narrow, placid water-ways dividing the islands on
the eastern side of the bay. The islands and the shores of the mainland are
densely wooded, and appeared picturesque and inviting even through the veil
of mist and rain that shrouded them. The forests consist principally of spruce
trees, so dense and having such a tangle of underbrush that it is only with the

greatest difficulty that one can force a way through them; while the ground
beneath the forest, and even the trunks and branches of the living trees, are
covered and festooned with luxuriant growths of mosses and lichens. Our trip
along these wooded shores, but half revealed through the drifting mist, was
novel and enjoyable in spite of discomforts due to the rain. We rejoiced at the
thought that we were nearing the place where the actual labors of the
expedition would begin; we were approaching the unknown; visions of
unexplored regions filled with new wonders occupied our fancies, and made
us eager to press on.

About noon on the first day we pitched our tents on a strip of shingle skirting
the shore of the mainland to the east of Knight island. The Pinta's boats spread
their white wings and sailed away to the southward before a freshening wind,
and our last connection with civilization was broken. As one of the
frontiersmen of our party remarked, we were "at home once more." It may
appear strange to some that any one could apply such a term to a camp on the
wild shore of an unexplored country; but the Bohemian spirit is so strong in
some breasts, and the restraint of civilization so irksome, that the homing
instinct is reversed and leads irresistibly to the wilderness and to the silent
mountain tops.

The morning after arriving at our first camp, Kerr, Christie, and Hendriksen,
with all the camp hands except two, went on with the canoes, and in a few
hours reached the entrance of Disenchantment bay. They found a camping
place about twelve miles ahead, on a narrow strip of shingle beneath the
precipices of Point Esperanza, and there established our second camp.

My necessary delay at Camp 1 was utilized, so far as possible, in learning
what I could concerning the adjacent country, and in making a beginning in
the study of its geology. Our camp was at the immediate base of the
mountains, and on the northeastern side of the wide plateau bordering the
continent. The plateau stretches southeastward for twenty or thirty miles, and
is low and heavily forested. The eastern shore of the bay near our first camp is
formed of bluffs about 150 feet high, which have been eaten back by the
waves so as to expose fine sections of the strata of sand, gravel and bowlders
of which the plateau is composed. All the lowlands bordering the mountains
have, apparently, a common history, and doubtless owe their origin principally
to the deposition of débris brought from the mountains by former glaciers.
When this material was deposited, or soon afterward, the land was depressed

about 150 feet lower than at present, as is shown by a terrace cut along the
base of the mountains at that elevation. The steep mountain face extending
northwestward from Camp 1 to the mouth of Disenchantment bay bears
evidence of being the upheaved side of a fault of quite recent origin. The steep
inclination and shattered condition of the rocks along this line are evidently
due to the crushing which accompanied the displacement.

In the wild gorge above our first camp, a small glacier was found descending
to within 500 feet of the sea-level, and giving rise to a wild, roaring stream of
milky water. Efforts to reach the glacier were frustrated by the density of the
dripping vegetation and by the clouds that obscured the mountains.

A canoe trip was made to a rocky islet between Knight island and the
mainland toward the north. The islet, like the rocks in the adjacent mountain
range, is composed of sandstone, greatly shattered and seamed, and nearly
vertical in attitude. Its surface was densely carpeted with grass and brilliant
flowers. Many sea birds had their homes there. From its summit a fine view
was obtained of the cloud-capped mountains toward the northeast, of the dark
forest covering Knight island, and of the broad plateau toward the southeast.
Some of the most charming effects in the scenery of the forest-clad and mist-
covered shores of Alaska are due to the wreaths of vapor ascending from the
deep forests during the interval in which the warm sunlight shines through the
clouds; and on the day of our visit to the islet, the forests, when not concealed
by mist, sent up smoke-like vapor wreaths of many fantastic shapes to mingle
with the clouds in which the higher mountains disappeared.

At Camp 1 the personnel of the party was unexpectedly reduced. Mr. Hosmer
was ill, and remained with me at camp instead of pushing on with Kerr and
Christie; and the weather continuing stormy, he concluded to abandon the
expedition and return to the mission at Port Mulgrave. Having secured the
services of an Indian who chanced to pass our camp in his canoe, Mr. Hosmer
bade us good-bye, ensconced himself in the frail craft, and started for sunnier
lands. It was subsequently learned that he reached Yakutak without mishap,
and a few days later sailed for Sitka in a small trading schooner. Our force
during the remainder of the season, not including Mr. Hendriksen and the
Indians, whose services were engaged for only a few days, numbered nine
men all told.

On the evening of June 30 we had a bright camp-fire blazing on the beach to
welcome the returning party. Near sunset a canoe appeared in the distance, and
a shot was fired as it came round a bend in the shore. We felt sure that our
companions were returning, and piled drift-wood on the roaring camp-fire to
cheer them after their hard day's work on the water. As the canoe approached,
each dip of the paddle sent a flash of light to us, and we could distinguish the
men at their work; but we soon discovered that it was occupied not by our own
party but by Indians returning from a seal hunt in Disenchantment bay. They
brought their canoe high on the beach, and made themselves at home about
our camp-fire. There were seven or eight well-built young men in the party, all
armed with guns. In former times such an arrival would have been regarded
with suspicion; but thanks to the somewhat frequent visits of war vessels to
Yakutat, and also to the labors of missionaries, the wild spirits of the Indians
have been greatly subdued and reduced to semi-civilized condition during the
past quarter of a century.

Just as the long twilight deepened into night, another craft came around the
distant headland, but less swiftly than the former one; and soon our
picturesque canoe, with Christie at the stern steering with a paddle in true
Indian fashion, grated on the shingle beach. Christie has spent many years of
his life with the Indians of the Northwest, and has adopted some of their
habits. On beginning frontier life once more, he discarded the hat of the white
man, and wore a blue cloth tied tightly around his forehead and streaming off
in loose ends behind. The change was welcome, for it added to the picturesque
appearance of the party.

The men, weary with their long row against currents and head-winds, greatly
enjoyed the camp-fire. Our Indian visitors, after lunching lightly on the leaf-
stalks of a plant resembling celery (Archangelica), which grows abundantly
everywhere on the lowlands of southern Alaska, departed toward Yakutat.
Supper was served in one of the large tents, and we all rolled ourselves in our
blankets for the night.

The next day, July 1, we abandoned Camp 1, passed by Camp 2, and late in
the afternoon reached the northwestern side of Yakutat bay, opposite Point
Esperanza. Our trip along the wild shore, against which a heavy surf was
breaking, was full of novelty and interest. The mountains rose sheer from the
water to a height of two or three thousand feet. About their bases, like dark
drapery, following all the folds of the mountain side, ran a band of vegetation;

but the spruce forests had mostly disappeared, and only a few trees were seen
here and there in the deeper cañons. The position of the terrace along the base
of the mountain, first noticed at Camp 1, could be plainly traced, although
densely covered with bushes. The mountain peaks above were all sharp and
angular, indicating at a glance that they had never been subjected to glacial
action. The sandstone and shales forming the naked cliffs are fractured and
crushed, and are evidently yielding rapidly to the weather; but the
characteristic red color due to rock decay could not be seen. The prevailing
tone of the mountains, when not buried beneath vegetation or covered with
snow, is a cold gray. Bright, warm, summer skies are needed to reveal the
variety and beauty of that forbidding region.

Our large canoe behaved well, although heavily loaded. Sometimes the wind
was favorable, when an extemporized sail lessened the fatigue of the trip. The
landing on the northwestern shore was effected, through a light surf, on a
sandy beach heavily encumbered with icebergs. As it was hazardous to beach
the large canoe with its load of boxes and bags, the heavy freight was
transferred, a few pieces at a time, to smaller canoes, each manned by a single
Indian, and all was safely landed beyond the reach of the breakers. Camp 3
was established on the sandy beach just above the reach of the tide and near
the mouth of a roaring brook. The drift-wood along the shore furnished
abundant fuel for a blazing camp-fire; our tents were pitched, and once more
we felt at home.

Two canoes were dispatched, in care of Doney, to the camp on the opposite
shore (Camp 2), with instructions to bring over the equipments left there. Kerr
went over also for the purpose of making a topographic station on the bluff
forming Point Esperanza should the morrow's weather permit.

It was curious to note the care which our Indians took of their canoes. Not
only were they drawn high up on the beach, out of the reach of all possible
tides, but each canoe was swathed in wet cloths, especially at the prow and
stern, to prevent them from drying and cracking. The canoes, being fashioned
from a single spruce log, are especially liable to split if allowed to dry
thoroughly.

The day after our arrival, all of our party and all of our camp outfit were
assembled at Camp 3. Mr. Hendriksen and our Indian friends took their
departure, and the work for which we had come so far was actually begun.

BASE CAMP ON THE SHORE OF YAKUTAT BAY.

About the tents at Camp 3 the rank grass grew waist-high, sheltering the
strawberries and dwarf raspberries that bloomed beneath. A little way back
from the shore, clumps of alders, interspersed with spruce trees, marked the
beginning of the forest which covered the hills toward the west and southwest.
Toward the north rose rugged mountains, their summits shrouded in mist; in
the steep gorges on their sides the ends of glaciers gleamed white, like
foaming cataracts descending from cloudland.

The day following our arrival dawned bright and beautiful. Every cloud
vanished from the mountains as by magic, revealing their magnificent
summits in clear relief. We found ourselves at the base of a rugged mountain
range extending far southeastward and northwestward, its first rampart so
breached as to allow the waters of the ocean to extend into the very midst of
the great peaks beyond. Through this opening we had a splendid view of the
snow-clad mountains filling the northern sky and stretching away in lessening
perspective toward the east until they blended with the distant clouds.

Topographic work was started, and the preparation of "packs" for the journey
inland was begun at once; and all hands were kept busy. A base-line was
measured by Mr. Kerr, and a beginning was made in the development of a
system of triangulation which was carried on throughout the season.

Our stay at the camp on the shore extended over a week, and enabled us to
become familiar with many of the changes in the rugged scenery surrounding
Yakutat bay. The bay itself was covered with icebergs for most of the time.
Owing to the prevailing winds and the action of shore currents, the ice
accumulated on the coast adjacent to our camp. For many days the beach
toward both the north and the south, as far as the eye could reach, was piled
high with huge masses of blue and white ice. When the bay was rough, the
surf roared angrily among the stranded bergs and, dashing over them, formed
splendid sheets of foam; while on bright, sunny days the bay gleamed and
flashed in the sunlight as the summer winds gently rippled its surface, and the
thousands of icebergs crowding the azure plain seemed a numberless fleet of
fairy boats with crystal hulls and fantastic sails of blue and white. When the
long summer days drew to a close and gave place to the soft northern twilight,
which in summer lasts until the glow of the returning sun is seen in the east,

the sea and mountains assumed a soft, mysterious beauty never realized by
dwellers in more southern climes. The hours of twilight were so enchanting,
the varying shades and changing tints on the mighty snow-fields robing the
mountains were so exquisite in their gradations that, even when weary with
many hours of toil, the explorer could not resist the charm, and paced the
sandy shore until the night was far spent. Sometimes in the twilight hours,
long after the sun disappeared, the summits of the majestic peaks toward the
east were transformed by the light of the after-glow into mountains of flame.
As the light faded, the cold shadow of the world crept higher and higher up the
crystal slopes until only the topmost spires and pinnacles were gilded by the
sunset glow. At such times, when our eyes were weary with watching the
gorgeous transformation of the snow-covered mountains and were turned to
the far-reaching seaward view, we would be startled by the sight of a vast city,
with battlements, towers, minarets, and domes of fantastic architecture, rising
where we knew that only the berg-covered waters extended. The appearance
of these phantom cities was a common occurrence during the twilight hours.
Although we knew at once that the ghostly spires were but a trick of the
mirage, yet their ever-changing shapes and remarkable mimicry of human
habitations were so striking that they never lost their novelty; and they were
never the same on two successive evenings. One of the most common
deceptions of the mirage is the transformation of icebergs into the semblance
of fountains gushing from the sea and expanding into graceful, sheaf-like
shapes. The strangest freaks due to the refraction of light on hot deserts, which
are usually supposed to be the home of the mirage, do not excite the traveler's
wonder so much as the phantom cities seen in the uncertain twilight amid the
ice-packs of the north.

When the slowly deepening twilight transformed mountains and seas into a
dreamland picture, the harvest moon, strangely out of place in far northern
skies, spread a sheet of silver behind the dark headlands toward the southeast,
and then slowly appeared, not rising boldly toward the zenith, but tracing a
low arch in the southern heavens, to soon disappear into the sea toward the
southwest. Brief as were her visits, they were always welcome and always
brought the feeling that distant homes were nearer when the same light was
visible to us and to loved ones far away. The soft moonlight dimmed the
twilight, the after-glow faded from the highest peaks, and the short northern
night came on.

After returning from the mountains, late in September, we were again
encamped on the northwestern shore of Yakutat bay. A heavy northeast storm
swept down from the mountains and awakened all the pent-up fury of the
waves. The beach was crowded with bergs, among which the surf broke in
great sheets of feathery foam; clouds of spray were dashed far above the icy
ramparts, carrying with them fragments of ice torn from the bergs over which
they swept; while the stranded bergs rocked violently to and fro as the waves
burst over them. Sometimes the raging waters, angered by opposition, lifted
the bergs in their mighty arms and, turning them over and over, dashed them
high on the beach. It seemed as if spirits of the deep, unable to leave the water-
world, were hurling their weapons at unseen enemies on the land. The fearful
grandeur of the raging waters and of the dark storm-swept skies was, perhaps,
enhanced by the fact that the landward-blowing gale, combined with a rising
tide, threatened to sweep away our frail home. Each succeeding wave, as it
rolled shoreward, sent a sheet of foam roaring and rushing up the beach and
creeping nearer and nearer to our shelter until only a few inches intervened
between the highwater line and the crest of the sand bank that protected us.
The limit was reached at last, however, and the water slowly retreated, leaving
a fringe of ice within arm's length of our tents.

The wild scene along the shore was especially grand at night. The stranded
bergs, seen through the gloom, formed strange moving shapes, like vessels in
distress. The white banners of spray seemed signals of disaster. An Armada,
more numerous than ever sailed from the ports of Spain, was being crushed
and ground to pieces by the hoarse wind and raging surf. Sleep was
impossible, even if one cared to rest when sea and air and sky were joined in
fierce conflict. Our tents, spared by the waves, were dashed down by the fierce
north winds, and a lake in the forest toward the west overflowed its banks and
discharged its flooding waters through our encampment. At last, tired and
discomforted, we abandoned our tents and retreated to the neighboring forest
and there took refuge in a cabin built near where a coal seam outcrops, and
remained until the storm had spent its force. But I have anticipated, and must
return to the thread of my narrative.

FIRST DAY'S TRAMP.

The impressions received during the first day spent on shore in a new country
are always long remembered. Of several "first days" in my own calendar, there

are none that exceed in interest my first excursions through the forest and over
the hills west of Yakutat bay.

Every one about camp having plenty of work to occupy him through the day, I
started out early on the morning of July 2, with only "Bud" and "Tweed" for
companions. My objects were to reconnoiter the country to the westward, to
learn what I could concerning its geology and glaciers, and to choose a line of
march toward Mount St. Elias.

To the north of our camp, and about a mile distant, rose a densely wooded hill
about 300 feet high, with a curving outline, convex southward. This hill had
excited my curiosity on first catching sight of the shore, and I decided to make
it my first study. Its position at the mouth of a steep gorge in the hills beyond,
down which a small glacier flowed, suggested that it might be an ancient
moraine, deposited at a time when the ice-stream advanced farther than at
present. My surprise therefore was great when, after forcing my way through
the dense thickets, I reached the top of the hill, and found a large kettle-shaped
depression, the sides of which were solid walls of ice fifty feet high. This
showed at once that the supposed hill was really the extremity of a glacier,
long dead and deeply buried beneath forest-covered débris. In the bottom of
the kettle-like depression lay a pond of muddy water, and, as the ice-cliffs
about the lakelet melted in the warm sunlight, miniature avalanches of ice and
stones, mingled with sticks and bushes that had been undermined, frequently
rattled down its sides and splashed into the waters below. Further examination
revealed the fact that scores of such kettles are scattered over the surface of
the buried glacier. This ice-stream is that designated the Galiano glacier on
the accompanying map.

Continuing on my way toward the mouth of the gorge in the mountains above,
I forced my way for nearly a mile through dense thickets, frequently making
wide detours to avoid the kettle holes. At length the vegetation became less
dense, and gave place to broad open fields of rocks and dirt, covering the
glacier from side to side. This débris was clearly of the nature of a moraine, as
the ice could be seen beneath it in numerous crevasses; but no division into
marginal or medial moraines could be distinguished. It is really a thin,
irregular sheet of comminuted rock, together with angular masses of sandstone
and shale, the largest of which are ten or fifteen feet in diameter. When seen
from a little distance the débris completely conceals the ice and forms a
barren, rugged surface, the picture of desolation.

After traversing this naked area the clear ice in the center of the gorge was
reached. All about were wild cliffs, stretching up toward the snow-covered
peaks above; several cataracts of ice, formed by tributary glaciers descending
through rugged, highly inclined channels, were in sight; while the snow-fields
far above gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, and now and then sent down
small avalanches to awaken the echoes of the cliffs and fill the still air with a
Babel of tongues.

Pushing on toward the western border of the glacier, across the barren field of
stones, I came at length to the brink of a precipice of dirty ice more than a
hundred feet high, at the foot of which flowed a swift stream of turbid water. A
few hundred yards below, this stream suddenly disappeared beneath an
archway formed by the end of a glacial tunnel, and its further course was lost
to view. It was a strange sight to see a swift, foaming river burst from beneath
overhanging ice-cliffs, roar along over a bowlder-covered bed, and then
plunge into the mouth of a cavern, leaving no trace of its lower course except
a dull, heavy rumbling far down below the icy surface. A still grander example
of these glacial streams, observed a few days later, is described on another
page.

The bank of the gulf opposite the point at which I first reached it is formed by
a steep mountain-side supporting a dense growth of vegetation. Here and
there, however, streams of water plunge down the slope, making a chain of
foaming cascades, and opening the way through the vegetation. It seemed
practicable to traverse one of these stream beds without great difficulty, and
thus to reach the plateau which I knew, from a more distant view, to exist
above.

Crossing the glacial river above the upper archway, I reached the mountain
side and began to ascend. The task was far more difficult than anticipated. The
bushes, principally of alder and currant, grew dense and extended their
branches down the steep slope in such a manner that at times it was utterly
impossible to force a way through them. Much of the way I crawled on hands
and knees up the steep watercourse beneath the dense tangle of vegetation
overhanging from either bank and interlacing in the center. On nearing the top
I was so fortunate as to strike a bear trail, along which the animal had forced
his way through the bushes, making an opening like a tunnel. Through this I
ascended to the top of the slope, coming out in a wild amphitheatre in the side
of the mountain. The bottom of the amphitheatre was exceedingly rough,

owing to confused moraine-heaps, and held a number of small lakes. On
account of its elevation, it was not densely covered with bushes, and no trees
were in sight except along its southern margin. About its northern border ran a
broad terrace, marking the height of the great glacier which formerly occupied
the site of Yakutat bay. The terrace formed a convenient pathway leading
westward to a sharp ridge running out from the mountains and connecting
with an outstanding butte, which promised to afford an unobstructed view to
the westward.

Pressing on, I found that the terrace on which I was traveling at length became
a free ridge, some three hundred feet high, with steep slopes on either side,
like a huge railroad embankment. This ridge swept across the valley in a
graceful curve, and shut off a portion of the western part of the amphitheatre
from the general drainage. In the portion thus isolated there was a lake without
an outlet, still frozen. The snow banks bordering the frozen lake were traced in
every direction by the trails of bears. Continuing my tramp, I crossed broad
snow-fields, climbed the ridge to the westward, and obtained a far-reaching,
unobstructed view of the surrounding country. The elevation reached was only
about 1,500 feet above sea-level, but was above the timber line. The mountain
slopes toward the north were bare of vegetation and generally covered with
snow.

The first object to claim attention was the huge pyramid forming the summit
of Mount St. Elias, which stood out clear and sharp against the northwestern
sky. Although thirty-six miles distant, it dominated all other peaks in view and
rose far above the rugged crests of nearer ranges, many of which would have
been counted magnificent mountains in a less rugged land. This was the first
view of the great peak obtained by any of our party. Not a cloud obscured the
defination of the mountain; and the wonderful transparency of the atmosphere,
after so many days of mist and rain, was something seldom if ever equalled in
less humid lands.

Much nearer than St. Elias, and a little west of north of my station, rose Mount
Cook, one of the most beautiful peaks in the region. Its summit, unlike the
isolated pyramid in which St. Elias terminates, is formed of three white
domes, with here and there subordinate pinnacles of pure white, shooting up
from the snow-fields like great crystals. On the southern side of Mount Cook
there are several rugged and angular ridges, which sweep away for many miles
and project like headlands into the sea of ice, known as the Malaspina glacier,

bordering the ocean toward the southwest. Between the main ridges there are
huge trunk glaciers, each contributing its flood of ice to the great glacier
below; and each secondary valley and each amphitheatre among the peaks, no
matter how small, has its individual glacier, and the majority of these are
tributary to the larger ice-streams. All the mountains in sight exceeding 2,000
feet in elevation were white with snow, except the sharpest ridges and boldest
precipices. The attention of the geologist is attracted by the fact that all the
foot-hills of Mount Cook are composed of gray sandstone and black shale; and
he also observes that the angular mountain crest so sharply drawn against the
sky furnishes abundant evidence that the mountains were never subjected to
the abrasion of a continuous ice-sheet.

As I stood on the steep-sloped ridge, the Atrevida and Lucia glaciers, their
surfaces covered from side to side with angular masses of sandstone and shale,
lay at my feet; while farther up the valley the débris on the surface of the ice
disappeared, and all above was a winter landscape. The brown, desolate
débris-fields on the glacier at my feet extended far southward, and covered the
expanded ice-foot in which the glacier terminates. Most curious of all was the
fact that the moraines on the lower border of the glacier were concealed from
view by a dense covering of vegetation, and in places were clothed with
forests of spruce trees.

To the southward, beyond the end of the Lucia glacier, and separated from it
by a torrent-swept bowlder-bed, lay a vast plateau of ice which stretched
toward the south and west farther than the eye could reach. This is the
Malaspina glacier, shown on plate 8. Its borders, like the expanded extremity
of the Lucia glacier, are covered with débris, on the outer margins of which
dense vegetation has taken root. All the central portion of the ice-sheet is clear
of moraines, and shone in the sunlight like a vast snow-field. The heights
formerly reached by the nearer glaciers were plainly marked along the
mountain sides by well-defined terraces, sloping with the present drainage.
When the Lucia glacier was at its flood the ridge on which I stood was only
200 or 300 feet above its surface; now it approaches 1,000 feet.

Turning toward the southeast, I could look down upon the waters of Yakutat
bay, with its thousands of floating icebergs, and could distinguish the white
breakers as they rolled in on Ocean cape. Beyond Yakutat stretches a forest-
covered plateau between the mountains and the sea, and the eye could range
far over the mountains bordering this plateau on the northeast. In the distance,

fully a hundred miles away, stood Mount Fairweather, its position rendered
conspicuous by a bank of shining clouds floating serenely above its cold
summit.

The mountains directly east of Yakutat bay rise to a general height of about
8,000 feet, but are without especially prominent peaks. In a general way they
form a rugged plateau, which has been dissected in various channels to depth
of 2,000 or 3,000 feet. Nearly all of the plateau, including mountains and
valleys, is covered with snow-fields and glaciers; but none of the ice-streams,
so far as can be seen from a distance, descend below an elevation of about
4,000 or 5,000 feet. This region is as yet untraversed; and when the explorer
enters it, it is quite possible that deep drainage lines will be found through
which glaciers may descend nearly or quite to sea-level.

After drinking in the effect of the magnificent landscape and endeavoring to
impress every detail in the rugged topography upon my memory, and having
finished writing my notes, it was time to return; for the sun was already
declining toward the west. Wishing to see more of the wonderful land about
me, I concluded to descend the western slope of the ridge upon which I stood,
and to return to camp by following a stream which issues from the Atrevida
glacier directly below my station and empties into Yakutat bay a mile or two
south of our third camp.

The quickest and easiest way down was to slide on the snow. Using my
alpenstock as a brake, I descended swiftly several hundred feet without
difficulty, the dogs bounding along beside me, when on looking up I was
startled to see two huge brown bears on the same snow surface, a little to the
left and not more than a hundred and fifty yards away. Had my slide been
continued a few seconds more I should have been in exceedingly unwelcome
company. I was unarmed, and entirely unprepared for a fight with two of the
most savage animals found in this country. The bears had long yellowish-
brown hair, and were of the size and character of the "grizzly," with which
they are thought by hunters, if not by naturalists, to be specifically identical.
They were not at all disturbed by my presence, and in spite of my shouts,
which I thought would make them travel off, one of them came leisurely
toward me. His strides over the snow revealed a strength and activity
commanding admiration despite the decidedly uncomfortable feeling
awakened by his proximity and evident curiosity. Later in the season I
measured the tracks of an animal of the same species, made while walking

over a soft, level surface, and found each impression to measure 9 by 17
inches, and the stride to reach 64 inches. So far as I have been able to learn,
this is the largest bear track that has been reported. Realizing my danger, I
continued my snow slide, but in a different direction and with accelerated
speed. The upper limit of the dense thicket clothing the slope of the mountain
was soon reached, and my unwelcome companions were lost to sight.

Following the bed of a torrent fed by the snow-fields above, I soon came to
the creek chosen for my route back to camp; the waters, brown and turbid with
sediment, welled out of a cavern at the foot of an ice precipice 200 feet high,
and formed a roaring stream too deep and too swift for fording. The roaring of
the brown waters and the startling noises made by stones rattling down the ice-
cliff, together with the dark shadows of the deep gorge, walled in by a steep
mountain slope on one side and a glacier on the other, made the route seem
uncanny. On the sands filling the spaces between the bowlders there were
many fresh bear tracks, which at least suggested that the belated traveler
should be careful in his movements.

This locality was afterward occupied as a camping place, and is shown in the
picture forming plate 10. The dark-colored ice, mixed with stones and earth,
might easily be mistaken for stratified rock; but the dirt discoloring the ice is
almost entirely superficial. The crest of the cliff is formed of débris, and is the
edge of the sheet of stones and earth covering the general surface of the
glacier. Owing to the constant melting, stones and bowlders are continually
loosened to rattle down the steep slope and plunge into the water beneath.

I followed down the bank of the stream, by springing from bowlder to
bowlder, for about a mile, and then came to a steep bluff, the western side of
which was swept by the roaring flood. The banks above were clothed with
spruce trees and dense underbrush; but, there being no alternative, I entered
the forest and slowly worked my way in the direction of camp. To traverse the
unbroken forests of southern Alaska is always difficult, even when one is
fresh; and, weary as I was with many hours of laborious climbing, my
progress was slow indeed. One of the principal obstacles encountered in
threading these Arctic jungles is the plant known as the "Devil's club" (Panax
horridum), which grows to a height of ten or fifteen feet, and has broad,
palmate leaves that are especially conspicuous in autumn, owing to their
bright yellow color. The stems of this plant run on the earth for several feet
and then curve upward. Every portion of its surface, even to the ribs of the

leaves, is thickly set with spines, which inflict painful wounds, and, breaking
off in the flesh, cause festering sores. In forcing a way through the brush one
frequently treads on the prostrate portion of these thorny plants, and not
infrequently is made aware of the fact by a blow on the head or in the face
from the over-arching stems.

I struggled on through the tangled vegetation until the sun went down and the
woods became dark and somber. Thick moss, into which the foot sank as in a
bed of sponge, covered the ground everywhere to the depth of two or three
feet; each fallen trunk was a rounded mound of green and brown, decked with
graceful equiseta and ferns, or brilliant with flowers, but most treacherous and
annoying to the belated traveler. In the gloom of the dim-lit woods, the trees,
bearded with moss, assumed strange, fantastic shapes, which every unfamiliar
sound seemed to start into life; while the numerous trails made by the bears in
forcing their way through the thick tangle were positive evidence that not all
the inhabitants of the forest were creatures of the imagination. My faithful
companions, "Bud" and "Tweed" showed signs of weariness, and offered no
objection when I started a fire and expressed my intention of spending the
night beneath the wide-spreading branches of a moss-covered evergreen.
Having a few pieces of bread in my pocket, I shared them with the dogs, and
stretching myself on a luxuriant bank of lichens tried to sleep, only to find the
mosquitoes so energetic that there was no hope of passing the night in
comfort.

After resting I felt refreshed, and concluded to press on through the gathering
darkness, and after another hour of hard work I came out of the forest and
upon a field of torrent-swept bowlders, deposited by the stream which I had
left farther up. I was surprised to find that the twilight was not so far spent as I
had fancied. The way ahead being free of vegetation, I hastened on, and after
traveling about two miles was rejoiced by the sight of a camp-fire blazing in
the distance. The warm fire and a hearty supper soon made me forget the
fatigues of the day.

This, my first day's exploration, must stand as an example of many similar
days spent on the hills and in the forests northwest of Yakutat bay, of which it
is not necessary to give detailed descriptions.

CANOE TRIP IN DISENCHANTMENT BAY.

On July 3, I continued my examination of the region about the head of Yakutat
bay by making a canoe trip up Disenchantment bay to Haenke island. With the
assistance of Christie and Crumback, our canoe was launched through the surf
without difficulty, and we slowly worked our way through the fields of
floating ice which covered all the upper portion of the inlet. The men plied the
oars with which the canoe was fortunately provided, while I directed its course
with a paddle. A heavy swell rolling in from the ocean rendered the task of
choosing a route through the grinding ice-pack somewhat difficult. After four
or five hours of hard work, during which time several vain attempts were
made to traverse leads in the ice which had only one opening, we succeeded in
reaching the southern end of the island.

The shores of Haenke island are steep and rocky, and, so far as I am aware,
afford only one cove in which a boat can take refuge. This is at the extreme
southern point, and is not visible until its entrance is reached. A break or
fissure in the rocks there admits of the accumulation of stone and sand, and
this has been extended by the action of the waves and tides until a beach a
hundred feet in length has been deposited. The dashing of the bowlders and
sand against the cliffs at the head of the cove by the incoming waves has
increased its extension in that direction so as to form a well-sheltered refuge.
The absence of beaches on other portions of the island is due to the fact that its
bordering precipices descend abruptly into deep water, and do not admit of the
accumulation of débris about their bases. Without stones and sand with which
the waves can work, the excavation of terraces is an exceedingly slow
operation. The precipitous nature of the borders of the island is due, to some
extent at least, to the abrasion of the rocks by the glacial ice which once
encircled it.

Pulling our canoe far up on the beach, we began the ascent of the cliffs.
Hundreds of sea birds, startled from their nests by our intrusion, circled
fearlessly about our heads and filled the air with their wild cries. The more
exposed portions of the slopes were bare of vegetation, but in the shelter of
every depression dense thickets obstructed the way. Many of the little basins
between the rounded knolls hold tarns of fresh water, and were occupied at the
time of our visit by flocks of gray geese. It is evident that the island was
intensely glaciated at no distant day. The surfaces of its rounded domes are so
smoothly polished that they glitter like mirrors in the sunlight. On the polished
surfaces there are deep grooves and fine, hair-like lines, made by the stones set
in the bottom of the glacier which once flowed over the island and removed all

of the rocks that were not firm and hard. On many of the domes of sandstone
there rest bowlders of a different character, which have evidently been brought
from the mountains toward the northeast.

The summit of the island is about 800 feet above the level of the sea, and, like
its sides, is polished and striated. The terraces on the mountains of the
mainland show that the glacier which formerly flowed out from
Disenchantment bay must have been fully 2,000 feet deep. The bed it occupied
toward the south is now flooded by the waters of Yakutat bay.

At the time of Malaspina's visit, 100 years ago, the glaciers from the north
reached Haenke island, and surrounded it on three sides.27 At the rate of retreat
indicated by comparing Malaspina's records with the present condition, the
glaciers must have reached Point Esperanza, at the mouth of Disenchantment
bay, about 200 years ago; and an allowance of between 500 and 1,000 years
would seem ample for the retreat of the glaciers since they were at their flood.
27
The map accompanying Malaspina's report and indicating these conditions has already been
mentioned, and is reproduced on plate 7, page 67.

Reaching the topmost dome of Haenke island, a wonderful panorama of snow-
covered mountains, glaciers, and icebergs lay before us. The island occupies
the position of the stage in a vast amphitheatre; the spectators are hoary
mountain peaks, each a monarch robed in ermine and bidding defiance to the
ceaseless war of the elements. How insignificant the wanderer who confronts
such an audience, and how weak his efforts to describe such a scene!

From a wild cliff-enclosed valley toward the north, guarded by towering
pinnacles and massive cliffs, flows a great glacier, the fountains of which are
far back in the heart of the mountains beyond the reach of vision. Having
vainly sought an Indian name for this ice-stream, I concluded to christen it the
Dalton glacier, in honor of John Dalton, a miner and frontiersman now living
at Yakutat, who is justly considered the pioneer explorer of the region. The
glacier is greatly shattered and pinnacled in descending its steep channel, and
on reaching the sea it expands into a broad ice-foot. The last steep descent is
made just before gaining the water, and is marked by crevasses and pinnacles
of magnificent proportion and beautiful color. This is one of the few glaciers
in the St. Elias region that has well-defined medial and lateral moraines. At the
bases of the cliffs on the western side there is a broad, lateral moraine, and in

the center, looking like a winding road leading up the glacier, runs a triple-
banded ribbon of débris, forming a typical medial moraine. The morainal
material carried by the glacier is at last deposited at its foot, or floated away
by icebergs, and scattered far and wide over the bottom of Yakutat bay.

The glacier expands on entering the water, as is the habit of all glaciers when
unconfined, and ends in magnificent ice-cliffs some two miles in length. The
water dashing against the bases of the cliffs dissolves them away, and the tides
tend to raise and lower the expanded ice-foot. The result is that huge masses,
sometimes reaching from summit to base of the cliffs, are undermined, and
topple over into the sea with a tremendous crash. Owing to the distance of the
glacier from Haenke island, we could see the fall long before the roar reached
our ears; the cliffs separated, and huge masses seemed to sink without a sound;
the spray thrown up as the blue pinnacles disappeared ascended like gleaming
rockets, sometimes as high as the tops of the cliffs, and then fell back in silent
cataracts of foam. Then a noise as of a cannonade came rolling across the
waters and echoing from cliff to cliff. The roar of the glacier continues all day
when the air is warm and the sun bright, and is most active when the summer
days are finest. Sometimes, roar succeeded roar, like artillery fire, and the
salutes were answered, gun for gun, by the great Hubbard glacier, which pours
its flood of ice into the fjord a few miles further northeastward. This ice-
stream, most magnificent of the tide-water glaciers of Alaska yet discovered,
and a towering mountain peak from which the glacier receives a large part of
its drainage, were named in honor of Gardiner G. Hubbard, president of the
National Geographic Society.

Looking across the waters of the bay, whitened by thousands of floating bergs,
we could see three miles of the ice-cliffs formed where the Hubbard glacier
enters the sea. A dark headland on the shore of the mainland to the right shut
off the full view of the glacier but formed a strongly drawn foreground, which
enhanced the picturesque effect of the scenery. The Hubbard glacier flows
majestically through a deep valley leading back into the mountains, and has
two main branches, with a smaller and steeper tributary between. These
branches unite to form a single ice-foot extending into the bay. The western
branch has a dark medial moraine down its center, which makes a bold,
sweeping curve before joining the main stream. There is also a broad lateral
débris-belt along the bases of the cliffs forming its right bank. The whole
surface of the united glacier, and all of the white tongues running back into the
mountains beyond the reach of vision, are broken and shattered, owing to the
steepness and roughness of the bed over which they flow. The surface, where
not concealed by morainal material, is snow-white; but in the multitude of
crevasses the blue ice is exposed, and gives a greenish-blue tint to the entire
stream. Where the subglacial slopes are steep, the ice is broken into pinnacles
and towers of the grandest description.

On the steep mountain sides sloping toward the Hubbard glacier there are
more than a dozen secondary ice-streams which are tributary to it. The
amphitheatres in which the glacier has its beginnings have never been seen;
but our general knowledge of the fountains from which glaciers flow assures
us that not only scores but hundreds of other secondary and tertiary glaciers
far back into the mountains contribute their floods to the same great stream.

After being received on board the Corwin, late in September, we had an
opportunity to view the great sea-cliffs of the Hubbard glacier near at hand.
Captain Hooper, attracted by the magnificent scenery, took his vessel up
Disenchantment bay to a point beyond Haenke island, whence a view could be
had of the eastern extension of the inlet. So far as is known, the Corwin was
the first vessel to navigate those waters. Soundings made between the island
and the ice-foot gave forty to sixty fathoms. At the elbow, where the
southeastern shore of the bay turns abruptly eastward, there is a low islet not
represented on any map previous to the one made by the recent expedition,
which commands even a wider prospect than can be obtained from Haenke
island. Future visitors to this remote coast should endeavor to reach this islet,
after having beheld the grand panorama obtainable from the summit of
Haenke island. The portion of Disenchantment bay stretching eastward from
the foot of Hubbard glacier is enclosed on all sides by bold mountains, the
lower slopes of which have the subdued and flowing outlines characteristic of
glaciated regions. Several glaciers occur in the high-grade lateral valleys
opening from the bay; but these have recently retreated, and none of them
have sufficient volume at present to reach the water. The general recession, in
which all the glaciers of Alaska are participating, is manifested here by the
broad débris fields, which cover all the lower ice-streams not ending in the
sea. The absence of vegetation on the smooth rocks recently abandoned by the
ice also tells of recent climatic changes.

A débris-covered glacier, so completely concealed by continuous sheets of
stones and earth that its true character can scarcely be recognized, descends
from the mountains just east of Hubbard glacier. It is formed by the union of
two principal tributaries, and, on reaching comparatively level ground,
expands into a broad ice-foot, but does not have sufficient volume to reach the
sea. Another glacier, of smaller size but of the same general character, lies
between the Hubbard and Dalton glaciers.

In a rugged defile in the mountains just west of Haenke island there is another
small dirt-covered glacier, which creeps down from the precipices above and
reaches within a mile of the water. At its end there is a cliff of black, dirty ice,
scarcely to be distinguished from rock at a little distance, from the base of
which flows a turbid stream. This glacier is covered so completely with earth
and stones that not a vestige of the ice can be seen unless we actually traverse
its surface. Its appearance suggests the name of Black glacier, by which it is
designated on the accompanying map.

The visitor to Haenke island has examples of at least two well-marked types of
glaciers in view: The small débris-covered ice-streams, too small to reach the
water, are typical of a large class of glaciers in southern Alaska, which are
slowly wasting away and have become buried beneath débris concentrated at
the surface by reason of their own melting. The Galiano glacier is a good
example of this class. The Hubbard and Dalton glaciers are fine examples of
another class of ice-streams which flow into the sea and end in ice-cliffs, and
which for convenience we call tide-water glaciers. Nowhere can finer or more
beautiful examples of this type be found than those in view from Haenke
island.

The formation of icebergs from the undermining and breaking down of the
ice-cliffs of the tide-water glaciers has already been mentioned. But there is
another method by which bergs are formed—a process even more remarkable
than the avalanches that occur when portions of the ice-cliffs topple over into
the sea. The ice-cliffs at the foot of the tide-water glaciers are really sea-cliffs
formed by the waves cutting back a terrace in the ice. The submerged terrace
is composed of ice, and may extend out a thousand feet or more in front of the
visible part of the ice-cliffs. These conditions are represented in the
accompanying diagram (figure 1), which exhibits a longitudinal section of the
lower end of a tide-water glacier where it pushes out into the sea.

FIGURE 1—Diagram illustrating the Formation of Icebergs

As the sea-cliff of ice recedes and the submerged terrace increases in breadth
there comes a time when the buoyancy of the ice at the bottom exceeds its
strength, and pieces break off and rise to the surface. The water about the ends
of the glaciers is so intensely muddy that the submerged ice-foot is hidden
from view, and its presence would not be suspected were it not for the
fragments occasionally rising from it. The sudden appearance of these masses
of bottom ice at the surface is always startling. While watching the ice-cliffs
and admiring the play of colors in the deep crevasses which penetrate them in
every direction, or tracing in fancy the strange history of the silent river and
wondering in what age the snows fell on the mountains, which are now
returning to their parent, the sea, one is frequently awakened by a commotion
in the waters below, perhaps several hundred feet in front of the ice-cliffs. At
first it seems as if some huge sea-monster had risen from the deep and was
lashing the waters into foam; but soon the waters part, and a blue island rises
to the surface, carrying hundreds of tons of water, which flows down its sides
in cataracts of foam. Some of the bergs turn completely over on emerging, and
thus add to the tumult and confusion that attends their birth. The waves roll
away in widening circles, to break in surf on the adjacent shores, and an island
of ice of the most lovely blue floats serenely away to join the thousands of
similar islands that have preceded it. The fragments of the glacier rising from
the bottom in this manner are usually larger than those broken from the faces
of the ice-cliffs, sometimes measuring 200 or 300 feet in diameter. Their size
and the suddenness with which they rise would insure certain destruction of a
vessel venturing too near the treacherous ice-walls.

At the time of our visit to Haenke island, the entire surface of Disenchantment
bay and all of Yakutat bay as far southward as we could see formed one vast
field of floating ice. Most of the bergs were small, but here and there rose
masses which measured 150 by 200 feet on their sides and stood 40 or 50 feet
out of the water. The bergs are divided, in reference to color, into three classes
—the white, the blue, and the black. The white ones are those that have fallen
from the face of the ice-walls or those that have been sufficiently exposed to
the atmosphere to become melted at the surface and filled with air cavities.
The blue bergs are of many shades and tints, finding their nearest match in
color in Antwerp blue. These are the ones that have recently risen from the
submerged ice-foot, or have turned over owing to a change of position in the

center of gravity. Rapid as is the melting of the ice when exposed to the air, it
seems to liquefy even more quickly when submerged. The changes thus
produced finally cause the bergs to reverse their positions in the water. This is
done without the slightest warning, and is one of the greatest dangers to be
guarded against while canoeing among them. The white color presented by the
majority of the bergs is changed to blue when they become stranded, and the
surf breaks over them and dissolves away their porous surfaces. A few of the
bergs are black in color, owing to the dirt and stones that they carry on their
surfaces or frozen in their mass. Quantities of débris are thus floated away
from the tide-water glaciers and strewn over the bottoms of the adjacent inlets.

This digression may be wearisome, but one cannot stand on Haenke island
without wishing to know all the secrets of the great ice-streams that flow
silently before him.

Returning from our commanding station at the summit of the island to where
we left our canoe, we were surprised and not a little startled to find that the
tide had run out and left the strand between our canoe and the water
completely blocked with huge fragments of ice. There was no way left for us
to launch our canoe except by cutting away and leveling off the ice with our
axe, so as to form a trail over which we could drag it to the water. This we did,
and then, poising the canoe on a low flat berg, half of which extended beneath
the water, I took my place in it with paddle in hand, while Christie and
Crumback, waiting for the moment when a large wave rolled in, launched the
canoe far out in the surf. By the vigorous use of my paddle I succeeded in
reaching smooth water and brought the canoe close under the cliff forming the
southern side of the cove, where the men were able to drop in as a wave rolled
under us.

We slowly worked our way down the bay through blue lanes in the ice-pack,
against an incoming tide, and reached our tents near sunset. Thus ended one of
the most enjoyable and most instructive days at Yakutat bay.

FROM YAKUTAT BAY TO BLOSSOM ISLAND.

Our camp on the shore of Yakutat bay was held for several days after returning
from Haenke island, but in the meantime an advance-camp was established on

the side of the Lucia glacier, from which Mr. Kerr and myself made
explorations ahead.

Before leaving the base-camp I visited Black glacier for the purpose of taking
photographs and studying the appearance of an old glacier far spent and fast
passing away. This, like the Galiano glacier, is a good example of a great
number of ice-streams in the same region which are covered from side to side
with débris. The cañon walls on either side rise precipitously, and their lower
slopes, for the height of 200 or 300 feet, are bare of vegetation. The surface of
the glacier has evidently sunken to this extent within a period too short to
allow of the accumulation of soil and the rooting of plants on the slopes. The
banks referred to are in part below the upper limit of timber growth, and the
adjacent surfaces are covered with bushes, grasses, and flowers. Under the
climatic conditions there prevailing, it is evident that the formation of soil and
the spreading of plants over areas abandoned by ice is a matter of
comparatively few years. It is for this reason that a very recent retreat of Black
glacier is inferred. Many of the glaciers in southern Alaska give similar
evidence of recent contraction, and it is evident that a climatic change is in
progress which is either decreasing the winter's snow or increasing the
summer's heat. The most sensitive indicators of these changes, responding
even more quickly than does the vegetation, are the glaciers.

The fourth of July was spent by us in cutting a trail up the steep mountain
slope to the amphitheatre visited during my first tramp. No one can appreciate
the density and luxuriance of the vegetation on the lower mountain in that
region until he has cut a passage through it. Seven men, working continuously
for six or seven hours with axes and knives, were able to open a comparatively
good trail about a mile in length. The remainder of the way was along stream
courses and up bowlder-washes, which were free from vegetation. In the
afternoon, having finished our task, a half-holiday was spent in an exciting
search for two huge brown bears discovered by one of the party, but they
vanished before the guns could be brought out.

The next day an advance-camp was made in the amphitheatre above timber
line, and there Mr. Kerr and myself passed the night, molested only by swarms
of mosquitoes, and the day following occupied an outstanding butte as a
topographical station. In the afternoon of the same day the advance-camp was
moved to the border of the Atrevida glacier at a point already described, where
a muddy stream gushes out from under the ice.

Our next advance-camp, established a few days later, was at Terrace point, as
we called the extreme end of the mountain spur separating the Lucia and
Atrevida glaciers. These ice-streams were formerly much higher than now, and
when at their flood formed terraces along the mountain side, which remain
distinctly visible to the present day. The space between the two glaciers at the
southern end of the mountain spur became filled with bowlders and stones
carried down on the side of the ice-streams, and, as the glaciers contracted,
added a tapering point to the mountain. Between the present surface of the ice
and the highest terrace left at some former time there are many ridges, sloping
down stream, which record minor changes in the fluctuation of the ice. A
portion of one of these terraces is seen to the left in plate 10.

Terrace point, like all the lower portions of the mountain spurs extending
southward from the main range, is densely clothed with vegetation, and during
the short summers is a paradise of flowers. Our tent was pitched on a low
terrace just beyond the border of the ice. The steep bluff rising to an elevation

of some 200 feet on the east of our camp was formed by glacial ice buried
beneath an absolutely barren covering of stones and dirt. On the west the
ascent was still more precipitous, but the slope from base to summit was one
mass of gorgeous flowers.

Kerr and myself made several excursions from the camp at Terrace point, and
explored the country ahead to the next mountain spur for the purpose of
selecting a site for another advance-camp. In the meantime the men were busy
in bringing up supplies.

Our reconnoissance westward took us across the Lucia glacier to the mouth of
a deep, transverse gorge in the next mountain spur. The congeries of low peaks
and knobs south of this pass we named the Floral hills, on account of the
luxuriance of the vegetation covering them; and the saddle separating them
from the mountains to the north was called Floral pass.

In crossing the Lucia glacier we experienced the usual difficulties met with on
the débris-covered ice-field of Alaska. The way was exceedingly rough, on

account of the ridges and valleys on the ice, and on account of the angular
condition of the débris resting upon it. Many of the ridges could not
conveniently be climbed, owing to the uncertain footing afforded by the
angular stones resting on the slippery slope beneath. Fortunately, the crevasses
were mostly filled with stones fallen from the sides, so that the danger from
open fissures, which has usually to be guarded against in glacial excursions,
was obviated; yet, as is usually the case when crevasses become filled with
débris, the melting of the adjacent surfaces had caused them to stand in relief
and form ridges of loose stones, which were exceedingly troublesome to the
traveler.

Near the western side of the Lucia glacier, between Terrace point and Floral
pass, there is a huge rounded dome of sandstone rising boldly out of the ice.
This corresponds to the "nunataks" of the Greenland ice-fields, and was
covered by ice when the glaciation was more intense than at present. On the

northern side of the island the ice is forced high up on its flanks, and is deeply
covered with moraines; but on the southwestern side its base is low and skirted
by a sand plain deposited in a valley formerly occupied by a lake. The melting
of the glacier has, in fact, progressed so far that the dome of rock is free from
ice on its southern side, and is connected with the border of the valley toward
the west by the sand plain. This plain is composed of gravel and sand
deposited by streams which at times became dammed lower down and
expanded into a lake. Sunken areas and holes over portions of the lake bottom
show that it rests, in part at least, upon a bed of ice.

The most novel and interesting feature in the Lucia glacier is a glacial river
which bursts from beneath a high archway of ice just at the eastern base of the
nunatak mentioned above, and flows for about a mile and a half through a
channel excavated in the ice, to then enter the mouth of another tunnel and
become lost to view. An illustration of this strange river and of the mouth of
the tunnel in the débris-covered ice into which it rolls, reproduced from a
photograph by a mechanical process, is given on plate 14, and another view of

the mouth of the same tunnel is presented in the succeeding plate. This is the
finest example of a glacial river that it has ever been my good fortune to
examine.

The stream is swift, and its waters are brown and heavy with sediment. Its
breadth is about 150 feet. For the greater part of its way, where open to
sunlight, it flows between banks of ice and over an icy floor. Fragments of its
banks, and portions of the sides and roof of the tunnel from which it emerges,
are swept along by the swift current, or stranded here and there in midstream.
The sand plain already mentioned borders the river for a portion of its course,
and is flooded when the lower tunnel is obstructed.

The archway under which the stream disappears is about fifty feet high, and
the tunnel retains its dimensions as far as one can see by looking in at its
mouth. Where the stream emerges is unknown; but the emergence could no
doubt be discovered by examining the border of the glacier some miles
southward. No explorer has yet been bold enough to enter the tunnel and drift
through with the stream, although this could possibly be done without great
danger. The greatest risk in such an undertaking would be from falling blocks
of ice. While I stood near the mouth of the tunnel there came a roar from the
dark cavern within, reverberating like the explosion of a heavy blast in the
chambers of a mine, that undoubtedly marked the fall of an ice mass from the
arched roof. The course of the stream below the mouth of the tunnel may be
traced for some distance by scarps in the ice above, formed by the settling of
the roof. Some of these may be traced in the illustrations. When the roof of the
tunnel collapses so completely as to obstruct the passage, a lake is formed
above the tunnel, and when the obstruction is removed the streams draining
the glacier are flooded.

At the mouth of the tunnel there are always confused noises and rhythmic
vibrations to be heard in the dark recesses within. The air is filled with
pulsations like deep organ notes. It takes but little imagination to transform
these strange sounds into the voices and songs of the mythical inhabitants of
the nether regions.

Toward the right of the tunnel, as shown on plate 14, there appears a portion of
the former river bed, now abandoned, owing to the cutting across of a bend in
the stream. The floor of this old channel is mostly of clear, white ice, and has a
peculiar, hummocky appearance, which indicates the direction of the current
that once flowed over it. A portion of the bed is covered with sand and gravel,
and along its border are gravel terraces resting on ice. These occurrences
illustrate the fact that rivers flowing through channels of ice are governed by
the same general laws as the more familiar surface streams.

After examining this glacial river, during our first excursion on the Lucia
glacier, we reached its western banks by crossing above the upper archway.
Traversing the sand plain to the westward, we came to another stream of
nearly equal interest, flowing along the western margin of the glacier, past the
end of the deep gorge called Floral pass. A small creek, flowing down the
pass, joins the stream and skirts the glacier just below the mouth of a wild
gorge on the side of the main valley. This stream once flowed along the border
of the Lucia glacier when it was much higher than now, and began the
excavation of a channel in the rock, which was retained after the surface of the
glacier was lowered by melting. It still flows in a rock-cut channel for about a
mile before descending to the border of the glacier as it exists at present. The
geologist will see at once that this is a peculiar example of superimposed
drainage. The gorge cut by the stream is a deep narrow trench with rough
angular cliffs on either side, and is a good example of a water-cut cañon.
When the Lucia glacier melts away and leaves the broad-bottomed valley clear
of ice, the deep narrow gorge on its western side, running parallel with its
longer axes, but a thousand feet or more above its bottom, will remain as one
of the evidences of a former ice invasion.

During our reconnoissance we turned back at the margin of the second river,
but a day or two later reached the same point with the camp hands and
camping outfit, and, placing a rope from bank to bank, effected a crossing.
Our next camp was in Floral pass. From there we occupied a topographical

station on the summit of the Floral hills, and made another reconnoissance
ahead, across the Hayden glacier,28 to the next mountain spur.
28
Named in honor of the late Dr. Ferdinand V. Hayden, founder of the United States Geological
Survey of the Territories.

Floral pass, like so many of the topographical features examined during the
recent expedition, has a peculiar history. It is a comparatively low-grade gorge
leading directly across the end of an angular mountain range forming one of
the spurs of Mount Cook. The position of the pass was determined by an east-
and-west fault and by the erosion of soft shales turned up on edge along the
line of displacement. At its head it is shut in by the Hayden glacier, which
flows past it and forms a wall of ice about two hundred feet high. The water
flowing out from beneath the side of the glacier forms a muddy creek, which
finds its way over a bowlder-covered bed in the bottom of the gorge to the
border of Lucia glacier. Along the sides of the gorge there are many terraces,
which record a complicated history. Evenly stratified clays near its lower end,
adjacent to the Lucia glacier, show that it was at one time occupied in part by
a lake. Above the lacustral beds there are water-worn deposits, indicating that
at a later date the gorge was filled from side to side by moraines and coarse
stream deposits several hundred feet thick. These were excavated, and portions
were left clinging to the hill-sides, forming the terraces of to-day. Diverse
slopes in the terraces suggest that the drainage may at times have been
reversed, according as the Lucia or the Hayden glacier was the higher.

The routes between our various camps, scattered along between Yakutat bay
and Blossom island, were traversed several times by every member of the
party. To traverse the same trail several times with heavy loads, and perhaps in
rain and mist, is disheartening work which I will spare the reader the effort of
following even in fancy.

From our camp in Floral pass another reconnoissance ahead was made by Mr.
Kerr and myself, as already mentioned. These advances, each one of which
told us something new, were the most interesting portions of our journey. The
little adventures and experiences of each advance were reported and talked
over when we rejoined our companions around the camp-fire at night, and
were received with gratifying interest by the men.

A view of the Hayden glacier from the Floral hills showed us that it differed
from any of the glaciers previously traversed. Its surface, where we planned to
cross it, was free of débris except along the margins and also near the center,
where we could distinguish a light medial moraine. Farther southward, near
the terminus of the glacier, its surface from side to side was buried beneath a
sheet of stones and dirt. As in many other instances, the débris on the lower
portion of the glacier has been concentrated at the surface, owing to the
melting of the ice, so as to form a continuous sheet.

Early one morning, while traveling over the torrent-swept bowlders in the
stream-bed on our way up Floral pass, we were a little startled at seeing the
head of a bear just visible through the flowers fringing the bank. Before a shot
could be fired, he vanished, and remained perfectly quiet among the bushes
for several minutes. But a trembling of the branches at length betrayed his
presence, and a few minutes later he came out in full view, his yellow-brown
coat giving him the appearance of a huge dog. Standing on a rounded mound
he looked inquiringly down the valley, with his shaggy side in full view. I
fired—but missed my aim. The unsuccessful hunter always has an excuse for
his failure; I had never before used the rifle I carried, and the hair-trigger with
which it was provided deceived me. Fortunately for the bear, and probably still
more fortunately for me, the bullet went far above the mark. The huge beast
vanished again, although the vegetation was not dense, and left us wondering
how such a large animal could disappear so quickly and so completely in such
an open region. On searching for his tracks, we found that he had traversed for
a few rods the plant-covered terrace on which he was first discovered, and
then escaped up a lateral gorge to a broader terrace above.

Reaching the head of the Floral pass and climbing the hill of débris bordering
the Hayden glacier, we came out upon the clear, white ice of the central
portion of the ice-stream. The ice was greatly crevassed, but nearly all the
gaps in its surface could be crossed by jumping or else by ice-bridges. The
most interesting feature presented by the glacier was the way in which it yields
itself to the inequality of the rocks over which it flows. Starting on the eastern
side, below the entrance to Floral pass, and extending northwestward
diagonally across the stream, there is a line of steep descent in the rocks
beneath, which causes the ice to be greatly broken. This is not properly an ice-
fall, except near the confining walls of the cañon; but it might be called an ice-
rapid. The ice bends down over the subglacial scarp with many long breaks,
but does not form pinnacles, as in many similar instances where the descent is

greater, and true ice cascades occur. The most practicable way for crossing the
glacier was to ascend the stream above the line of rapids for some distance,
and then follow diagonally down its center, finally veering westward to the
opposite bank. By following this course, and making a double curve like the
letter S, we could cross the steep descent in the center, where it was least
crevassed.

The marginal moraines on the Hayden glacier are formed of fragments of
brown and gray sandstone and black shale of all sizes and shapes. It is clear
that this débris was gathered by the cliffs bordering the glacier on either side.
The medial moraine which first appears at the surface just above the rapids is
of a different character, and tells that the higher peaks of Mount Cook are
composed, in part at least, of a different material from the spurs projecting
from it. The medial moraine looks black from a distance, but, on traversing it,
it was found to be composed mainly of dark-green gabbro and serpentine. The
débris is scattered over the surface in a belt several rods wide; but it is not
deep, as the ice can almost everywhere be seen between the stones. Where the
fragments of rock are most widely separated, there are fine illustrations of the
manner in which small, dark stones absorb the heat of the sun and melt the ice
beneath more rapidly than the surrounding surface, sinking into the ice so as to
form little wells, several inches deep, filled with clear water. Larger stones,
which are not warmed through during a day's sunshine, protect the ice beneath
while the adjacent surface is melted, and consequently become elevated on
pillars or pedestals of ice. The stones thus elevated are frequently large, and
form tables which are nearly always inclined southward. In other instances the
ice over large areas, especially along the center of the medial moraine, was
covered with cones of fine, angular fragments from a few inches to three or
four feet in height. These were not really piles of gravel, as they seemed, but
consisted of cones of ice, sheeted over with thin layers of small stones. The
secret of their formation, long since discovered on the glaciers of Switzerland,
is that the gravel is first concentrated in a hole in the ice and, as the general
surface melts away, acts like a large stone and protects the ice beneath. It is
raised on a pedestal, but the gravel at the borders continually rolls down the
sides and a conical form is the result.

Where we crossed the Hayden glacier it is only about a mile broad in a direct
line; but to traverse it by the circuitous route rendered necessary by the
character of its surface required about three hours of hard tramping, even

when unincumbered with packs. From the center of the glacier a magnificent
view may be obtained of the snow-covered domes of Mount Cook, from
which rugged mountain ridges stretch southward like great arms and enclose
the white snow-field from which the glacier flows. At an elevation of 2,500
feet the icy portion disappears beneath the névé on which not a trace of débris
is visible. All the higher portions of the mountains are white as snow can make
them, except where the pinnacles and precipices are too steep to retain a
covering.

On reaching the western side of the glacier we found a bare space on the
bordering cliffs, about a hundred feet high, which has been abandoned by the
ice so recently that it is not yet grassed over. Above this came the luxuriant
and beautiful vegetation covering all the lower mountain slopes.

The mountain spur just west of the glacier, like several of the ridges stretching
southward from the higher mountains, ends in a group of hills somewhat
separate from the main ridge. The hills are covered with a rank vegetation, and
in places support a dense growth of spruce trees. Reaching the grassy summit,
we had a fine, far-reaching view of the unexplored region toward the west, and
of the vast plateau of ice stretching southward beyond the reach of the vision.
West of our station, another great ice-stream, named the Marvine glacier, in
honor of the late A. R. Marvine, flows southward with a breadth exceeding
that of any of the icy streams yet crossed. Beyond the Marvine glacier, and
forming its western border, there is an exceedingly rugged mountain range
trending northeast and southwest. Although this is, topographically, a portion
of the mountain mass forming Mount Cook, its prominence and its peculiar
geological structure render it important that it should have an independent
name. In acknowledgment of the services to science rendered by the first state
geologist of Massachusetts, it is designated the Hitchcock range on our maps.
Rising above the angular crest line of this mountain mass towers the
pyramidal summit of Mount St. Elias, seemingly as distant as when we first
beheld it from near Yakutat bay.

About a mile west of the hill on which we stood, and beyond the bed of a lake
now drained of its waters by a tunnel leading southward through the ice, rose a
steep, rocky island out of the glaciers, its summit overgrown with vegetation
and dark with spruce trees. This oasis in a sea of ice, subsequently named
Blossom island, we chose as the most favorable site for our next advance-
camp.

We then returned to our camp in Floral pass, and a day or two later Kerr and
Christie started on a side trip up the Hayden glacier, to be absent five days.
During this trip the weather was stormy, and only allowed half an hour for
topographical work when a somewhat favorable station was reached. This was
of great service, however, in mapping the country, as it gave a station of
considerable elevation on the side of Mount Cook. The trip was nearly all
above the snow-line, and was relieved by many novel experiences.

While Kerr and Christie were away, I assisted the camp hands in advancing to
Blossom island. Our first day's work consisted in packing loads across the
Hayden glacier to the wooded hills on its western border, reached during the
reconnoissance described above. The weather was stormy, and a dense fog
rolled in from the ocean, obscuring the mountains, and compelling us to find
our way across the glacier as best we could without landmarks. Patiently
threading our way among crevasses, we at length came in sight of the forests
on the extremity of the mountain spur toward the west, and concluded to camp
there until the weather was more favorable. We climbed the bare slope
bordering the glacier, and forced our way through the dripping vegetation to
an open space beside a little stream and near some aged spruce trees that
would furnish good fuel for a camp-fire. We were glad of a refuge, but did not
fully appreciate the fact that our tents were in a paradise of flowers until the
next morning, when the sun shone clear and bright for a few hours. We hailed
with delight the world of summer beauty with which we were surrounded. Our
camp was in a little valley amid irregular hills of débris left by the former ice
invasion, each of which was a rounded dome of flowers. The desolate ice-
fields were completely shut out from view by the rank vegetation. On the
slope above us, dark spruce trees loaded with streamers of moss, and
seemingly many centuries old, formed a background for the floral decoration
with which the ground was everywhere covered. Flowering plants and ferns
were massed in such dense luxuriance that the streams were lost in gorgeous
banks of bloom.

Reluctantly we returned to Floral pass for another load of camp supplies, and
late in the afternoon pressed on to Blossom island, where we again pitched our
tents in rain and mist, and again, when the storm cleared away, found
ourselves in an untrodden paradise. Kerr and Christie rejoined us at Blossom
island on July 31, and we were once more ready for an advance.

BLOSSOM ISLAND.

Our camp on Blossom island was near a small pond of water and close beside
a thick grove of spruce trees on the western side of the land-mass. The tents
were so placed as to secure an unobstructed view to the westward; and they
were visible, in turn, to parties descending from the mountains toward the
northwest, whither our work soon led us.

The sides of Blossom island are rough and precipitous. The glaciers flowing
past it cut away the rocks and, as the surface of the ice-fields was lowered, left
them in many places in rugged cliffs bare of vegetation. The top of the island
was also formerly glaciated and in part covered with débris; but the ice
retreated so long ago that the once desolate surface has become clothed in
verdure. Everywhere there are dense growths of flowers, ferns and berry
bushes. On the rocky spurs, thrifty spruce trees, festooned with drooping
streamers, shelter luxuriant banks of mosses, lichens and ferns. There was no
evidence that human hand had ever plucked a flower in that luxuriant garden;
not a trace could be found of man's previous invasion. The only trails were
those left by the bears in forcing their way through the dense vegetation in
quest of succulent roots. Later in the season, when the berries ripened, there
was a feast spread invitingly for all who chose to partake. On the warm
summer days the air was filled with the perfume of the flowers, birds flitted in
and out of the shady grove, and insects hummed in the glad sunlight; the
freshness and beauty on every hand made this island seem a little Eden,
preserved with all its freshness and fragrance from the destroying hand of
man.

This oasis in a desert of ice is so beautiful and displays so many instructive
and attractive features that I wish the reader to come with me up the flowery
slopes and study the interesting pictures to be seen from its summit.

The narrow ravine back of our camp is festooned and overhung with tall ferns,
shooting out from the thickets on either hand like bending plumes. You will
notice at a glance, if perchance your youthful excursions happened to be in the
northeastern states, as were mine, that many of the plants about us are old
friends, or at least former acquaintances. The tall fern nodding so gracefully as
we pass is an Asplenium, but of ranker growth than in most southern regions.
These tall white flowers with aspiring, flat-topped umbels, looking like rank
caraway plants, but larger and more showy, belong to the genus Archangelica,

and are at home in the Cascade range and the Rocky Mountains as well as
here. The lily-like plant growing so profusely, especially in the moist dells,
with tall, slim spikes of greenish flowers and long parallel veined leaves, is
Veratrum viride. These brilliant yellow monkey-flowers, bending so gracefully
over the banks of the pond, are closely related to the little Mimulus which nods
to its own golden reflection in many of the brooks of New England. That
purple Epilobrum, with now and then a pure white variety, so common
everywhere on these hills, is the same wanderer that we have seen over many
square miles beneath the burnt woods of Maine. These bushes with obscure
white flowers, looking like little waxen bells, we recognize at once as
huckleberries; in a short time they will be loaded with luscious fruit. Inviting
couches of moss beneath the spruce trees are festooned and decorated with
fairy shapes of brown and green, that recall many a long ramble among the
Adirondack hills and in the Canadian woods. The licapods, equiseta and ferns
are many of them identical with the tracery on mossy mounds covering fallen
hemlocks in the Otsego woods in New York, but display greater luxuriance
and fresher and more brilliant colors. That graceful little beach-fern, here and
there faded to a rich brown, foretelling of future changes, is identical with the
little fairy form we used to gather long ago along the borders of the Great
Lakes. Asters and gentians, delicate orchids and purple lupines, besides many
less familiar plants, crowd the hillsides and deck the unkept meadows with a
brilliant mass of varied light. In the full sunshine, the hill-slopes appear as if
the fields of petals clothing them had the prism's power, and were spreading a
web of rainbow tints over the lush leaves and grasses below.

On our return to Blossom island, late in September, we found many of the
flowers faded, but in their places there was a profusion of berries nearly as
brilliant in color as the petals that heralded their coming. Many of the thickets,
inconspicuous before, had then a deep, rich yellow tint, due to an abundance
of luscious salmon berries, larger than our largest blackberries. The
huckleberries were also ripe, and in wonderful profusion. These additions to
our table were especially appreciated after living for more than a month in the
snow. The ash trees were holding aloft great bunches of scarlet berries, even
deeper and richer in color than the ripe leaves on the same brilliant branches.
The deep woods were brilliant with the broad yellow leaves of the Devil's
club, above which rose spikes of crimson berries. The dense thickets of currant
bushes, so luxuriant that it was difficult to force one's way through them, had

received a dusky, smoke-like tint, due to abundant blue-black strings of fruit
suspended all along the under sides of the branches.

Let us not look too far ahead, however. Wandering on over the sunny slopes,
where the gardener has forgotten to separate the colors or to divide the flower
banks, we gain the top of the island; but so dense are the plants about us, and
so eager is each painted cup to expand freely in the sunlight at the expense of
its neighbors, that we have to beat them down with our alpenstocks—much as
we dislike to mar the beauty of the place—before we can recline on the thick
turf beneath and study the strange landscape before us.

The foreground of every view is a bank of flowers nodding and swaying in the
wind, but all beyond is a frozen desert. The ice-fields before us, with their
dark bands of débris, are a picture of desolation. The creative breath has
touched only the garden which we, the first of wanderers, have invaded. The
land before us is entirely without human associations. No battles have there
been fought, no kings have ruled, no poets have sung of its ruggedness, and no
philosopher has explained its secrets. Yet it has its history, its poetry, and its
philosophy!

The mountains toward the north are too near at hand to reveal their grandeur;
only the borders of the vast snow-fields covering all of these upper slopes are
in view. In the deep cañon with perpendicular walls, just north of our station,
but curving westward so that its upper course is concealed from view, there
flows a secondary glacier which forces its terminal moraine high up on the
northern slope of Blossom island, but does not now join the ice-field on the
south. Streams of turbid water flow from this glacier on each side of the oasis
on which we stand and unite at the mouth of a dark tunnel in the ice toward
the south.

The barren gravel plain just east of our station, and at the foot of the glacier
from the north, is the bed of a glacial lake which has been drained through the
tunnel in the ice. On our way to Blossom island we crossed this area and
found that it had but recently lost its waters. Miniature terraces on the gravel
banks forming the sides of the basin marked the height to which the waters
last rose, and all the slopes formerly submerged were covered with a thin layer
of sediment. On the sides of the basin where this fresh lining rests on steep

slopes there are beautiful frettings made by rills in the soft sediment. The
stream from the glacier now meanders across this sand plain, dividing as it
goes into many branches, which unite on approaching the dark archway below.
The lake is extremely irregular in its behavior, and may be filled and emptied
several times in a season. The waters are either restrained or flow freely,
according as the tunnel through which they discharge is obstructed or open.
The lake is typical of a class. Similar basins may be found about many of the
spurs projecting into the Malaspina glacier.

A little west of the glacier to which I have directed your attention there is a
narrow mountain gorge occupied by another glacier, of small size but having
all the principal characteristics of even the largest Alpine glaciers of the
region. It is less than half a mile in length, has a high grade, and is fed by
several lateral branches. Its surface is divided into an ice region below and a
névé region above. It has lateral and medial moraines, ice pinnacles, crevasses,
and many other details peculiar to glaciers. From its extremity, which is dark
with dirt and stones, there flows a stream of turbid water. It is, in fact, a
miniature similitude of the ice-streams on the neighboring mountain, some of
which are forty or fifty miles in length and many times wider in their
narrowest part than the little glacier before us is long. The more thoroughly we
become acquainted with the mountains of southern Alaska the more
interesting and more numerous do the Alpine glaciers of the third order
become. Already, thousands could be enumerated.

I will not detain my imaginary companion longer with local details, but turn at
once to the objects which will ever be the center of attraction to visitors who
may chance to reach this remote island in the ice. Looking far up the Marvine
glacier, beyond the tapering pinnacles and rugged peaks about its head, you
will see spires and cathedral-like forms of the purest white projected against
the northern sky. They recall at once the ecclesiastic architecture of the Old
World; but instead of being dim and faded by time they seem built of
immaculate marble. They have a grandeur and repose seen only in mountains
of the first magnitude. The cathedral to the right, with the long roof-like crest
and a tapering spire at its eastern terminus, is Mount Augusta; its elevation is
over 13,000 feet. A little to the west, and equally beautiful but slightly less in
elevation, is Mount Malaspina—a worthy monument to the unfortunate
navigator whose name it bears. These peaks are on the main St. Elias range,
but from our present point of view they form only the background of a
magnificent picture. Later in the season our tents were pitched at their very

bases, and they then revealed their full grandeur and fulfilled every promise
given by distant views.

The rugged Hitchcock range bordering the distant margin of the Marvine
glacier, like the mountains near at hand and the rocky island on which we
stand, is composed of sandstone and shale, but presents one interesting
feature, to which I shall direct your attention. The trend of the range is
northeast and southwest, but the strata of which it is composed run east and
west and are inclined northward. As the range is some eight miles long, these
conditions would seem to indicate a thickness of many thousands of feet for
the rocks of which it is composed; yet the beds were deposited in horizontal
sheets of sand and mud of very late date, as will be shown farther on. But the
great apparent thickness of the strata is deceptive: a nearer examination would
reveal the fact that the rocks have been so greatly crushed that even a hand
specimen can scarcely be broken off with fresh surfaces. More than this, the
black shale, exhibiting the greatest amount of crushing, is usually in wedge-
shaped masses, which, in some cases at least, are bordered by what are known
as thrust planes, nearly coinciding with the bedding planes of the strata. The
rocks have been fractured and crushed together in such a way as to pile
fragments of the same layer on top of each other, and thus to increase greatly
their apparent thickness. In the elevations before us the thrust planes are tipped
northeastwardly, and it would seem that the force that produced them acted
from that direction. The apparent thickness of the beds has thus been increased
many times. What their original thickness was, it is not now possible to say.
Similar indications of a lateral crushing in the rocks may be found in several
of the mountain spurs between the Hitchcock range and Yakutat bay; but space
will not permit me to follow this subject further.

Turning from the mountains, we direct our eyes seaward; but it is a sea of ice
that meets our view and not the blue Pacific. Far as the eye can reach toward
the west, toward the south, and toward the southeast there is nothing in view
but a vast plateau of ice or barren débris fields resting on ice and concealing it
from view. This is the Malaspina glacier.

On the border of the ice, just below the cliffs on which we stand, there is a belt
of débris perhaps five miles in breadth, which almost completely conceals the
ice beneath. Portions of this moraine are covered by vegetation, and in places
it is brilliant with flowers. The vegetation is most abundant on the nearer
border and fades away toward the center of the glacier. Its distant border,

adjacent to the white ice-field beyond, is absolutely bare and desolate. An
attempt has been made to reproduce this scene in the picture forming plate 16.
The drawing is from a photograph and shows the barren débris field stretching
away towards the southwest. The extreme southern end of the Hitchcock range
appears at the right. In the distance is the white ice of the central part of the
Malaspina glacier. Far beyond, faintly outlined against the sky, are the snow-
covered hills west of Icy bay. The flowers in the foreground are growing on
the crest of the steep bluff bordering Blossom island on the south.

On the moraine-covered portion, especially where plants have taken root,
there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lakelets occupying kettle-shaped
depressions. A view of one of these interesting reservoirs in the ice is given in
figure 2. If we should go down to the glacier and examine such a lakelet near
at hand, we should find that the cliffs of ice surrounding them are usually

unsymmetrical, being especially steep and rugged on one side and low or
perhaps wanting entirely on the other. But there is no regularity in this respect;
the steep slopes may face in any direction. On bright days the encircling walls
are always dripping with water produced by the melting of the ice; little rills
are constantly flowing down their sides and plunging in miniature cataracts
into the lake below; the stones at the top of the ice-cliffs, belonging to the
general sheet of débris covering the glacier, are continually being undermined
and precipitated into the water. A curious fact in reference to the walls of the
lakelets is that the melting of the ice below the surface is more rapid than
above, where it is exposed to the direct rays of the sun. As a result the
depressions have the form of an hour-glass, as indicated in the accompanying
section.

FIGURE 2—View of a glacial Lakelet (drawn from a Photograph).

FIGURE 3—Section of a glacial lakelet.

Beyond the bordering moraines at our feet, we can look far out over the ice-
plateau and view hundreds of square miles of its frozen surface. At the same
time we obtain glimpses of other vast ice-fields toward the west, beyond Icy
bay; but their limits in that direction are unknown.

Later in the season I made an excursion far out on the Malaspina glacier from
the extreme southern end of the Hitchcock range, and became acquainted with
many of its peculiarities. Its surface, instead of being a smooth snow-field, as
it appears from a distance, is roughened by thousands of crevasses, many of
which are filled with clear, blue water. Over hundreds of square miles the
surface appears as if a giant plow had passed over it, leaving the ice furrowed
with crevasses. The crevasses are not broad; usually one can cross them at a
bound. They appear to be the scars left by rents in the tributary ice-streams.

The stillness far out on the great ice-field is immediately noticed by one who
has recently traversed the sloping surfaces of the tributary glaciers. It is always
silent on that vast frozen plateau. There are no surface streams and no lakes;
not a rill murmurs along its channel of ice; no cascades are formed by streams
plunging into moulins and crevasses. The water produced by the melting of
the ice finds its way down into the glacier and perhaps to its bottom, and must
there form rivers of large size; but no indications of their existence can be
obtained at the surface. The icy surface is undulating, and resembles in some
respects the great rolling prairies of the west; it is a prairie of ice. In the central

portion not a shoot of vegetation casts its shadow, and scarcely a fragment of
rock can be found. The boundaries of the vast plateau have never been
surveyed, but its area cannot be less than five hundred square miles. The clear
ice of the center greatly exceeds the extent of the moraine-covered borders. It
has a general elevation of fifteen or sixteen hundred feet, being highest near
the end of the Hitchcock range, where the Seward glacier comes in, and
decreasing from there in all directions. From the summit of Blossom island
and other commanding stations it is evident that the dark moraine belts about
its borders are compound and record a varied history. Far away toward the
southeast the individual elements may be distinguished. The dark bands of
débris sweep around in great curves and concentric, swirl-like figures, which
indicate that there are complicated currents in the seemingly motionless
plateau.

The Malaspina glacier belongs to a class of ice bodies not previously
recognized, which are formed at the bases of mountains by the union of
several glaciers from above. Their position suggests the name of Piedmont
glaciers for the type. They differ from continental glaciers in the fact that they
are formed by the union of ice-streams and are not the sources from which ice-
streams flow. The supply from the tributary glacier is counterbalanced by
melting and evaporation.

If the reader has become interested in the vast ice-fields about Blossom island,
he may wish to continue our acquaintance and go with me into the great snow-
fields on the higher mountains, where the ice-rivers feeding the Malaspina
glacier have their sources.

LIFE ABOVE THE SNOW-LINE.

Early on the morning of August 2, all necessary preparations having been
made the day previous, we started in the direction of the great snow peak to be
seen at the head of the Marvine glacier, where we hoped to find a pass leading
through the mountains which would enable us to reach the foot of Mount St.
Elias or to discover a practicable way across the main range into the unknown
country toward the north.

All of the camp hands were with us at the start, except Stamy and White, who
had been despatched to Port Mulgrave to purchase shoes. All but Crumback
and Lindsley were to return to Blossom island, however, after leaving their
loads at a rendezvous as far from Blossom island as could be reached in a day
and allow sufficient time to return to the base-camp. Kerr and myself, with the
two camp hands mentioned, were to press on to the snow-fields above. We
took with us a tent, blankets, rations, an oil-stove, and a supply of coal oil, and
felt equal to any emergency that might arise.

The morning of our departure was thick and foggy, with occasional showers,
and the weather grew worse instead of better as we advanced. All the
mountains were soon shut out from view by the vast vapor banks that settled
down from above, and we had little except the general character of the glacier
to guide us.

Our way at first led up the eastern border of the Marvine glacier, over
seemingly interminable fields of angular débris. Traveling on the rugged
moraine, some idea of which may be obtained from plate 17, was not only
tiresome in the extreme, but ruinous to boots and shoes. On passing the mouth
of the first lateral gorge (about a mile from Blossom island), from which flows
a secondary glacier, we could look up the bed of the steep ravine to the white
precipices beyond, which seemed to descend out of the clouds, and were
scarred by avalanches; but all of the higher peaks were shrouded from view.
At noon we passed the mouth of a second and larger gorge, which discharges
an important tributary. We then left the border of the glacier and traveled up its
center, the crevasses at the embouchures of the tributary stream being too
numerous and too wide to be crossed without great difficulty.

In the center of the Marvine glacier there is a dark medial moraine, composed
mainly of débris of gabbro and serpentine, of the same character as the medial
moraine on the Hayden glacier, already briefly mentioned. Here, too, we
found broad areas covered with sand cones and glacial tables. There are also
rushing streams, flowing in channels of ice, which finally plunge into
crevasses or in well-like moulins and send back a deep roar from the caverns
beneath. The murmurs of running waters, heard on every hand, seem to
indicate that the whole glacier is doomed to melt away in a single season.

Early in the afternoon we reached the junction of the two main branches of the
Marvine glacier, and chose the most westerly. We were still traveling over
hard blue ice in which the blue and white vein-structure characteristic of
glaciers could be plainly distinguished. The borders of the ice-streams were
dark with lateral moraines; but after passing the last great tributary coming in
from the northeast we reached the upper limit of the glacier proper and came
to the lower border of the névé fields, above which there is little surface

débris. The glacier there flows over a rugged descent, and is greatly broken by
its fall. At first we endeavored to find a passage up the center of the crevassed
and pinnacled ice, but soon came to an impassable gulf. Turning toward the
right, we traversed a ridge of ice between profound gorges and reached the
base of the mountain slope bordering the glacier on the east. Our party was
now divided; Christie and his companion were left searching for a convenient
place to leave the cans of rations they carried, while we, who were to explore
the regions above, were endeavoring to find a way up the ice-fall. A shout
from our companions below called our attention to the fact that they were
unable to reach the border of the glacier, where they had been directed to leave
their packs, and that they had left them on the open ice. They waved us "good-
bye" and started back toward Blossom island, leaving our little band of four to
make the advance.

Descending into a deep black gorge at the border of the ice, formed by its
melting back from the bordering cliffs, we clambered upward beneath
overhanging ice-walls, from which stones and fragments of ice were
occasionally dropping, and finally reached a great snow-bank on the border of
the glacier. As the storm still continued, and was even increasing in force, we
concluded to find a camping ground soon as possible and make ourselves
comfortable as the circumstances would permit.

FIRST CAMP IN THE SNOW.

We had now reached the lower limit of perpetual snow. There were no more
moraines on the surface of the glacier, and no bare rock surfaces large enough
to hold a tent. The entire region was snow-mantled as far as the eye could see,
except where pinnacles and cliffs too steep and rugged for the snow to
accumulate rose above the general surface. A little to one side of the mouth of
a steep lateral gorge we found a spot in which a mass of partly disintegrated
shale had fallen down from the cliff. We scraped the fragments aside,
smoothed the snow beneath, and built a wall of rock along the lower margin.
The space above was filled in with fragments of shale, so as to form a shelf on
which to pitch our tent. Soon our blankets were spread, with our water-proof
coats for a substratum, and supper was prepared over the oil-stove.

Darkness settled down over the mountains, and the storm increased as the
night came on. What is unusual in Alaska, the rain fell in torrents, as in the

tropics. Our little tent of light cotton cloth afforded great protection, but the
rain-drops beat on it with such force that the spray was driven through and
made a fine rain within. Weary with many hours of hard traveling over
moraines and across crevassed ice, and in an atmosphere saturated with
moisture, we rolled ourselves in our blankets, determined to rest in spite of the
storm that raged about.

As the rain became heavier, the avalanches, already alarmingly numerous,
became more and more frequent: A crash like thunder, followed by the clatter
of falling stones, told that many tons of ice and rocks on the mountains to the
westward had slid down upon the borders of the glacier; another roar near at
hand, caused by an avalanche on our own side of the glacier, was followed by
another, another, and still another out in the darkness, no one could tell where.
The wilder the storm, the louder and more frequent became the thunder of the
avalanches. It seemed as if pandemonium reigned on the mountains. One
might fancy that the evil spirits of the hills had prepared for us a reception of
their own liking—but decidedly not to the taste of their visitors. Soon there
was a clatter and whiz of stones at our door. Looking out I saw rocks as large
as one's head bounding past within a few feet of our tent. The stones on the
mountain side above had been loosened by the rain, and it was evident that our
perch was no longer tenable. Before we could remove our frail shelter to a
place of greater safety, a falling rock struck the alpenstock to which the ridge-
rope of our tent was fastened and carried it away. Our tent "went by the
board," as a sailor would say, and we were left exposed to the pouring rain.
Before we could gather up our blankets they were not only soaked, but a
bushel or more of mud and stones from the bank above, previously held back
by the tent, flowed in upon them. Rolling up our blankets and "caching" the
rations, instruments, etc., under a rubber cloth held down by rocks, we hastily
dragged our tent-cloth down to the border of the glacier, at the extremity of a
tapering ridge, along which it seemed impossible for stones from above to
travel. We there pitched our tent on the hard snow, without the luxury of even
a few handfuls of shale beneath our blankets. Wet and cold, we sought to wear
the night away as best we could, sleep being impossible. Crumback, who had
been especially energetic in removing the tent, regardless of his own exposure,
was wet and became cold and silent. The oil-stove and a few rations were
brought from the cache at the abandoned camp, and soon a dish of coffee was
steaming and filling the tent with its delicious odor. Our shelter became
comfortably warm and the hot coffee, acting as a stimulant, restored our

sluggish circulation. We passed an uncomfortable night and watched anxiously
for the dawn. Toward morning a cold wind swept down the glacier and the
rain ceased. With the dawn there came indications that the storm had passed,
although we were still enveloped in dense clouds and could not decide
whether or not a favorable change in the weather had occurred. We were still
cold and wet and the desire to return to Blossom island, where all was
sunshine and summer, was great. Uncertain as to what would be the wisest
course, we packed our blankets and started slowly down the mountain, looking
anxiously for signs that the storm had really passed.

An hour after sunrise a rift in the mist above us revealed the wonderful blue of
the heavens, and allowed a flood of sunlight to pour down upon the white
fields beneath. Never was the August sun more welcome. The mists vanished
before its magic touch, leaving here and there fleecy vapor-wreaths festooned
along the mountain side; as the clouds disappeared, peak after peak came into
view, and snow-domes and glaciers, never seen before, one by one revealed
themselves to our astonished eyes. When the curtain was lifted we found
ourselves in a new world, more wild and rugged than any we had yet beheld.
There was not a tree in sight, and nothing to suggest green fields or flowery
hill-sides, except on a few of the lower mountain spurs, where brilliant Alpine
blossoms added a touch of color to the pale landscape. All else was stern,
silent, motionless winter.

The glacier, clear and white, without a rock on its broken surface, looked from
a little distance like a vast snow-covered meadow. We were about a mile
above the lower limit of the snow-fields, where the blue ice of the glacier
comes out from beneath the névé. The blue ice was deeply buried, and could
only be seen in the deepest crevasses. Across the glacier rose the angular cliffs
and tapering spires of the Hitchcock range. Every ravine and gulch in its
rugged sides was occupied by glaciers, many of which were so broken and
crevassed that they looked like frozen cataracts.

Cheered by the bright skies and sun-warmed air, we pushed on up the glacier,
taking the center of the stream in order to avoid the crevasses, which were
most numerous along its borders. Two or three miles above our first camp we
found a place where a thin layer of broken shale covered the snow, at a
sufficient distance from the steep slopes above to be out of the reach of
avalanches. We there established our second camp after leaving Blossom

island, dried our blankets, and spent the remainder of the day basking in the
sunlight and gathering energy for coming emergencies.

We found the névé of the Marvine glacier differing greatly from the lower or
icy portion previously traversed. Instead of ice with blue and white bands, as
is common lower down, the entire surface, and as far down in the crevasses as
the eye could distinguish, was composed of compact snow, or snow changed
to icy particles resembling hail and having in reality but few of the properties
of ordinary snow: it might properly be called névé ice. Usually the thickness
of the layers varied from ten to fifteen feet. Separating them were dark lines
formed by dust blown over the surface of the glacier and buried by subsequent
snow-storms, or by thin blue lines formed by the edges of sheets of ice and
showing that the snow surface had been melted during bright sunny days and
frozen again at night. The horizontal stratification so plainly marked in all the
crevasses in the névé was almost entirely wanting, or at least was not
conspicuous, in the lower portion of the glacier, where, instead, we found
those narrow blue and white bands already mentioned, the origin of which has
been so well described and explained by Tyndall.

The center of the Marvine glacier, as in most similar ice-streams, is higher and
less broken by crevasses than its borders. The crevasses at the side trend up
stream, as is the case with marginal crevasses generally. In the present instance
the courses of these rents could be plainly distinguished on each border of the
glacier, when looking down upon it from neighboring slopes. The crevasses
occur at quite regular intervals of approximately fifty feet, and diverge from
the bank at angles of about 40°. In the banks of snow bordering the glacier
similar crevasses diverge from the margin of the flowing glacier and trend
down along its banks. The marginal crevasses and the crevasses in the
bordering snow-fields, to which no special name has been given, fall nearly in
line; but between the two there is a series of irregular cracks and broken snow,
sharply defining the border of the moving névé.

The origin of the marginal crevasses trending up stream was explained during
the study of the glaciers of Switzerland. The following diagram and
explanation illustrating their development are copied from Tyndall:

"Let A C be one side of the glacier and B D the other; and let the direction of motion be that
indicated by the arrow. Let S T be a transverse slice of the glacier, taken straight across it, say to-
day. A few days or weeks hence the slice will have been carried down, and because the center

moves more quickly than the sides it will not remain straight, but will bend into the form S' T'.
Supposing T i to be a small square of the original slice near the side of the glacier; in the new
position the square will be distorted to the lozenge-shaped figure T' i'. Fix your attention upon the
diagonal T i of the square; in the lower position this diagonal, if the ice could stretch, would be
lengthened to T' i'. But the ice does not stretch; it breaks, and we have a crevasse formed at right
angles to T' i'. The mere inspection of the diagram will assure you that the crevasse will point
obliquely upward."29

FIGURE 4—Diagram illustrating the Formation of marginal Crevasses.

29
The Forms of Water: International Scientific Series, New York, 1875, pp. 107–108.

The explanation given above applies especially to the lower or icy portion of a
glacier; above the snow-line other facts appear. When a glacier flows through
fields of snow on a level with its surface, crevasses are formed in the adjacent
banks. These trend down stream for the same reason that the crevasses in the
glacier proper trend up stream—that is, the friction of the moving stream
against its banks tends to carry them along, while the portions at a distance are
stationary. Fissures are thus opened which trend in the direction in which the
glacier moves. The angle made by these crevasses with the axis of the glacier
is about the same as those of the marginal crevasses, but in an opposite
direction. They are widest near the margin of the glacier and taper to a sharp
end towards the stationary snow-banks above. The crevasses in the two series
thus fall nearly in line, but are separated by a narrow band of irregularly
broken snow, marking the actual border of the glacier.29
30
Crevasses in snow-fields through which ice-streams flow will be mentioned again in describing
the Seward glacier.

After leaving Blossom island the party was divided, and we began a new
series of numbers for our camp above the snow-line, although in this narrative
and on the accompanying map a single series of numbers for all the camps
will be used. While in the field the camps in the snow were usually termed,
facetiously, "sardine camps," in allusion to the uncomfortable manner in which
we were packed in our tent at night.

ACROSS PINNACLE PASS.

The morning after reaching Camp 12 dawned gloriously bright. The night had
been cold, and a heavy frost had silenced every rill from the snow-slopes
above. The clear, bracing air gave us renewed energy and a firmer desire to
press on. Mr. Kerr and myself made an excursion ahead, while Lindsley and
Crumback brought up a load of supplies from the cache left on the glacier
below Camp 11.

On gaining the center of the Marvine glacier we had a magnificent view down
the broad ice-stream, bordered on either hand by towering, snow-laden
precipices, and changing, as the eye followed the downward slope, from pure
white to brown and black in the distance. Far below we could barely discern
the wooded summit of Blossom island, beyond which stretched the seemingly
limitless ice-fields of the Malaspina glacier. All about us the white slope
reflected the sunlight with painful brilliancy, while the black moraines and
forests below and the mists over the distant ocean, made it seem as if one was
looking down into a lower and darker world.

As we advanced toward the head of the glacier we found, as on several
subsequent occasions, that the nearer we approached the sources of an ice-
stream the easier our progress became. Following up the center of the glacier,
we learned that it curved toward the east; and after an hour or two of weary
tramping we reached the great amphitheatre in which it has its source. All
about us were rugged mountain slopes, heavily loaded with snow, and forming
clear white cliffs from which avalanches had descended. To the westward the
wall of the amphitheatre was broken, and it was apparent that we could cross
its rim in that direction. Pressing onward up the gently ascending slope, we
came at length to a gap in the mountains bordered on the north by a towering
cliff fully a thousand feet high, and were rejoiced to find that the snow surface
on the opposite side of the divide inclined westward with a grade as gentle as

the one we had ascended. Looking far down the western snow-slope, we could
see where it joined a large glacier flowing southward past the end of the great
cliffs which extended westward from the divide. The glacier we saw in the
valley below is designated on our map as the Seward glacier, in honor of
William H. Seward, the former Secretary of State, who negotiated the
purchase of Alaska for the United States.

The pass we named Pinnacle pass, on account of the many towering pinnacles
overshadowing it. Its elevation is about four thousand feet, and at the summit
it has a breadth of only two or three hundred feet. The snow on the divide is
greatly crevassed, but a convenient snow-bridge enabled us to cross without
difficulty. The crevasses increased in breadth with the advance of the season,
and on returning from our mountain trip in September we had to climb up on
the bordering cliff in order to pass the main crevasse at the summit. Some idea
of the crevasses of this region may be obtained from the following figure,
drawn from a photograph taken on the western side of Pinnacle pass, not far
from the summit.

FIGURE 5—Crevasses on Pinnacle Pass; from a Photograph.

The cliff on the north of Pinnacle pass is really a huge fault-scarp of recent
date, intersecting stratified shale, limestone, and conglomerate, with a few thin
coal-seams. The strata dip toward the north at a high angle, and present their
broken edges in the great cliff rising above the pass. The cliffs extend
westward from the pass, and retain a nearly horizontal crest line, but increase
in height and grandeur, owing to the downward grade of the glacier along their
base. A mile to the westward their elevation is fully two thousand feet. The
cliffs throughout are almost everywhere bare of snow and too steep and
rugged to be scaled. They form a strongly drawn boundary line in the geology
of the region, and furnish the key to the structure and geological character of
an extended area. All the rocks to the southward are sandstone and shale
belonging to a well-defined series, and differ materially from the rocks in the
fault-scarp. I have called the rocks toward the south, the Yakutat system, and
those exposed in the faces of the fault-scarp the Pinnacle system. Directly
north of Pinnacle pass, and at the base of Mount Owen, the rocks of the
Yakutat system are exposed, and from their position and association it is
evident that they are younger than the Pinnacle system and belong above it. If
these conclusions are sustained by future investigation, they will carry with
them certain deductions which are among the most remarkable in geological
history. On the crest of the Pinnacle pass cliffs I afterwards found strata
containing fossil shells and leaves belonging to species still living. These
records of animal and plant life show that not only were the rocks of the
Pinnacle system deposited since living species of mollusks and plants came
into existence, but that the Yakutat system is still more recent. More than this,
the upheaval of the mountains, the formation of numerous fault-scarps, and the
origin of the glaciers, have all occurred since Pliocene times.

The discovery of Pinnacle pass left no question as to the route to be traversed
in order to reach the mountains to the westward. We returned to Camp 12, and
the following day, with Crumback and Lindsley to assist us, advanced our
camp across Pinnacle pass and far down the western snow-slope.

The day we crossed the pass was bright and clear in the morning, but clouds
gathered around all the higher peaks about midday, vanishing again at
nightfall. As it was desirable to occupy, for topographic and other purposes, a
station on the top of the cliffs overlooking Pinnacle pass, we made an effort to

reach the crest of the ridge by climbing up the steep scarp just at the divide,
where the cliffs are lowest. While Crumback returned to Camp 12 for an
additional load and Lindsley went ahead to discover a new camping place,
Kerr and myself, taking the necessary instruments, began the ascent; but we
found it exceedingly difficult. The outcrops of shale in the lower portion of the
cliff furnished but poor foothold, and crumbled and broke away at every step.
Once my companion, losing his support, slid slowly down the slope in spite of
vigorous efforts to hold on, and a rapid descent in the yawning chasm below
seemed inevitable, when, coming to a slightly rougher surface, he was able to
control his movements and to regain what had been lost. Climbing on, we
came to the base of a vertical wall of shale several hundred feet high, and
made a detour to the left where a cascade plunged down a narrow channel. We
ascended the bed of the stream, which was sometimes so steep that the spray
dashed over us, and reached the base of an overhanging cliff of conglomerate
composed of well-worn pebbles. Above this rose a cliff of snow fifty feet or
more in height, which threatened to crash down in avalanches at any moment.
One small avalanche did occur during the ascent, and scattered its spray in our
faces. Had a heavy avalanche formed, our position would have been
exceedingly dangerous; but by taking advantage of every overhanging ledge,
and watching for the least sign of movement in the snow above, we reached
without accident a sheltered perch underneath an overhanging cliff near the
base of the snow. We then discovered that clouds were forming on all the high
mountains, and shreds of vapor blown over the crest of the cliff above told us
that further efforts would be useless. Seeking a perch protected from
avalanches by an overhanging cliff, we had a splendid view far out over the
sloping snow-plain toward the west and of the mountains bordering Pinnacle
pass on the south. My notes written in this commanding station read as
follows:

"Looking down from my perch I can plainly distinguish the undulations
and crevasses in the broad snow-fields stretching westward from Pinnacle
pass. Each inequality in the rock beneath the glacier is reproduced in
flowing and subdued outlines in the white surface above. The positions of
bosses and cliffs in the rock beneath are indicated by rounded domes and
steep descents in the snow surface. About the lower sides of these
inequalities there are in some cases concentric blue lines and in others
radiating fissures, marking where the snow has broken in making the
descent. The side light shining from the eastward down the long westerly

slope reveals by its delicate shading the presence of broad, terrace-like,
transverse steps into which the stream is divided. Were the snow removed
and the rock beneath exposed, we should find broad terraces separated by
scarps sweeping across the bed of the glacier from side to side. Similar
terraces occur in glaciated cañons in the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra
Nevada, but their origin has never been explained. The glacier is here at
work sculpturing similar forms; but still it is impossible to understand
how the process is initiated.

"Right in front of us, and only a mile or two away, rise the cliffs, spires,
and pinnacles of the Hitchcock range. Every ravine and amphitheatre in
the great mountain mass is deeply filled with snow, and the sharp angular
crests look as if they had been thrust up through the general covering of
white. The northern end of the range is clearly defined by the east-and-
west fault to which Pinnacle pass owes its origin. The trend of the mighty
cliffs on the southern face, on which we have found a perch, is at right
angles to the longer axis of the Hitchcock range, and marks its northern
terminus both topographically and geologically.

"There is not even a suggestion of vegetation in sight. The eye fails to
detect a single dash of green or the glow of a single Alpine flower
anywhere on the rugged slopes. A small avalanche from the snow-cliffs
above, cascading over the cliff which shelters me and only a few yards
away, tells why the precipices are so bare and desolate: they have been
swept clean by avalanches.

"Far down the western snow-slope I can distinguish crevasses and dirt
bands in the Seward glacier, which flows southward past the range on
which we sit. The marginal crevasses along the border of the glacier can
clearly be distinguished. As usual, they trend up-stream and, meeting
medial crevasses, break the surface of the glacier into thousands of
pinnacles and tables. Along the center of the stream there are V-shaped
dirt bands, separated by crevasses, which point down-stream and give the
appearance of a rapid flow to the central portion of the glacier. From this
distance its center has the appearance of 'watered' ribbon.

"A little toward the south of where the medial crevasses are most
numerous, and at a locality where two opposite mountain spurs force the
ice-stream through the comparatively narrow gorge, there is evidently an

ice-fall, as the whole glacier from side to side disappears from view. The
appearance of Niagara when seen from the banks of the river above the
Horseshoe falls is suggested. Beyond this silent cataract, the eye ranges
far out over the broad, level surface of the Malaspina glacier, and traces
the dark morainal ribbons streaming away for miles from the mountain
spurs among which they originate. From the extreme southern cape of the
Samovar hills there is a highly compound moraine-belt stretching away
toward the south, and then dividing and curving both east and west. The
central band of débris must be a mile broad. Along its eastern margin I
can count five lesser bands separated by narrow intervals of ice, and on
the farther side similar secondary bands are suggested, but the height of
the central range almost completely conceals them from view. In the
distant tattered ends, however, their various divisions can be clearly
traced. Great swirls in the ice are there indicated by concentric curves of
débris on its surface.

"Still farther westward there are hills rising to the height of impressive
mountains, in which northward dipping rocks, apparently of sandstone
and shale, similar to those forming the Hitchcock range, are plainly
distinguishable. All the northern slopes of these hills are deeply buried
beneath a universal covering of snow evidently hundreds of feet thick,
which is molded upon them so as to reveal every swelling dome and
ravine in their rugged sides. Farther westward still, beyond a dark
headland apparently washed by the sea, there are other broad ice-fields of
the same general character as the Malaspina glacier, which stretch away
for miles and miles and blend in the dim distance with the haze of the
horizon.

"Just west of the Seward glacier, and in part forming its western shore,
there are dark, rocky crests projecting through the universal ice mantle,
suggesting the lost mountains of Utah and Nevada which have become
deeply buried by the dusts of the desert. The character of the sharp crests
beyond the Seward glacier indicate that they are the upturned edges of
fault-blocks similar to the one on which we are seated. Interesting
geological records are there waiting an interpreter. The vastness of the
mountains and the snow-fields to be seen at a single glance from this
point of view can scarcely be realized. There are no familiar objects in
sight with which to make eye-measurements; the picture is on so grand a
scale that it defies imagination's grasp."

Searching the snow-sheet below with a field-glass, I discover a minute spot on
the white surface. Its movement, slow but unmistakable, assures me that it is
Lindsley returning from the site chosen for our camp to-night. Although
apparently near at hand, he forms but an inconspicuous speck on the vast
snow-field.

Having learned all that I could of the geology of the cliff, and the gathering
clouds rendering it unnecessary to climb the summits above, we descended
with even more difficulty than we had encountered on our way up, and met
Lindsley as he reached the pass. Resuming our packs, we started on, knowing
that Crumback would follow our trail; and after two hours' hard tramping over
a snow surface rendered somewhat soft by the heat of the day, but fortunately
little crevassed, we reached the place chosen for our camp. Crumback soon
joined us, and we pitched our tent for the night. The place chosen was on a
little island of débris, the farthest out we could discover from the base of the
great cliff on the north. We judged that we should there be safe from
avalanches, although the screech and hiss of stones falling from the cliff were
heard many times during the night.

Lindsley and Crumback, on revisiting the site of our camp two days later,
found that a tremendous avalanche of snow and rocks had in the mean time
fallen from the cliffs and ploughed its way out upon the glacier to within
fifteen or twenty feet of where we had passed the night. They remarked that if
the avalanche had occurred while we were in camp, our tent would not have
been reached, but that we should probably have been scared to death by the
roar.

FIRST FULL VIEW OF ST. ELIAS.

Leaving Crumback and Lindsley to make our camp as comfortable as
possible, Kerr and I pressed on with the object of seeing all we could of the
country ahead before the afternoon sunlight faded into twilight. Mount St.
Elias had been shut out from view, either by clouds or by intervening
mountains, for several days; but it was evident that on approaching the end of
the Pinnacle pass fault-scarp we should behold it again, and comparatively
near at hand.

Continuing down the even snow-slope, in which there were but few crevasses,
the view became broader and broader as we advanced, and at length the great
pyramid forming the culminating summit of all the region burst into full view.
What a glorious sight! The great mountain seemed higher and grander and
more regularly proportioned than any peak I had ever beheld before. The
white plain formed by the Seward glacier gave an even foreground, broken by
crevasses which, lessening in perspective, gave distance to the foot-hills
forming the western margin of the glacier. Far above the angular crest of the
Samovar hills in the middle distance towered St. Elias, sharp and clear against
the evening sky. Midway up the final slope a thin, horizontal bar of gray
clouds was delicately penciled. Through the meshes of the fairy scarf shone
the yellow sunset sky. The strong outlines of the rugged mountain, which had
withstood centuries of storms and earthquakes, were softened and glorified by
the breath of the summer winds, chilled as they kissed its crystal slopes.

Could I give to the reader a tithe of the impressions that such a view suggests,
they would declare that painters had never shown them mountains, but only
hills. So majestic was St. Elias, with the halo of the sunset about his brow, that
other magnificent peaks now seen for the first time or more fully revealed than
ever before, although worthy the respect and homage of the most experienced
mountain-climber, scarcely received a second glance.

Returning to camp, we passed the night, and the following day, August 6,
advanced our camp to the eastern border of the Seward glacier at the extreme
western end of the upturned crest forming the northern wall of Pinnacle pass.

The western end of the Pinnacle pass cliff is turned abruptly northward, and
the rocks dip eastward at a high angle, showing, together with other
conditions, that the end of the ridge is determined by a cross-fault running
northeast and southwest. West of the Seward glacier there is a continuation of
the Pinnacle-pass cliff, but it is greatly out of line. The position of the Seward
glacier, in this portion of its course, was determined by the fault which broke
the alignment of the main displacement.

Many facts of similar nature show that the glaciers of the St. Elias region have
had their courses determined, to a large extent, by the faults which have given
the region its characteristic structure: the ice drainage is consequent to the
structure of the underlying rocks; the glaciers not only did not originate the
channels in which they flow, but have failed to greatly modify them.

Camp 14 was on a sharp crest of limestone, conglomerate, and shale
belonging to the Pinnacle system, which was not over ten feet broad where our
tent was pitched. East of our tent there was a broad, upward sloping snow-
plain banked against the precipitous base of a hill about a thousand feet high.
At the edge of the snow, within three feet of our tent, there was a pond of clear
water, seemingly placed there for our special use. The western edge of our tent
was at the margin of a cliff about a hundred feet high, overlooking the Seward
glacier. We held this camp for several days and reöccupied it on our return
from St. Elias.

SUMMIT OF PINNACLE PASS CLIFFS.

From Camp 14 Crumback returned to Blossom island, and Stamy took his
place. Word from Christie assured me that supplies would be advanced to
Blossom island, and that our cache on the Marvine glacier would be renewed.
Stamy's arrival was especially welcome for the reason that he brought letters
from dear ones far away, which had been forwarded from Sitka by a trading
schooner that chanced to visit Yakutat bay.

While the camp hands were busy in bringing up fresh supplies, Kerr and I
occupied two stations on the summit of the Pinnacle pass cliffs. One of these
was on a butte at the western end of the ridge and just above our camp; the
other was on the crest of the main line of cliffs almost directly above Pinnacle
pass, at an elevation of 5,000 feet. Each of the stations embraced magnificent
views, extending from the outer margin of the Malaspina glacier to the crest of
the St. Elias range. The station on the butte near camp was occupied several
times, and proved to be a most convenient and commanding point for study of
the geography, geology, and distribution of glacier over a wide area. On
account of the splendid view obtained from the top we named it Point
Glorious. Its elevation is 3,500 feet.

One of the days on which we occupied Point Glorious was especially
remarkable on account of the clearness and freshness of the air and the
sharpness with which each peak and snow-crest stood out against the deep-
blue heavens. We left our camp early in the morning, and spent several hours
on the summit. On our way up we found several large patches of Alpine
flowers and, under a tussock of moss, a soft, warm nest just abandoned by a
mother ptarmigan with her brood of little ones. One hundred feet higher we

came to the borders of the snow-field which covered all of the upper slopes
except a narrow crest of sandstone at the top.

The Seward glacier, sweeping down from the northeast, curves about the base
of Point Glorious and flows on southward. Its surface has the appearance of a
wide frozen river. Toward the east of our station there was a broad, level-
floored amphitheatre, bounded on the south by the cliffs of Pinnacle pass and
on the east by long snow-slopes which stretch up the gorges in the side of
Mount Cook. The amphitheatre opens toward the northwest, and discharges its
accumulated snows into the Seward glacier. Beyond this, on the north, stood
the great curtain-wall named the Corwin cliffs, west of which rose Mount
Eaton, Mount Augusta, Mount Malaspina, and other giant summits of the main
St. Elias range. Toward the west the view culminated in St. Elias itself,
ruggedly outlined against the sky. As the reader will become more and more
familiar with the magnificent scenery of the St. Elias region as we advance, it
need not be described in detail at this time.

All day the skies were clear and bright, giving abundant opportunity for
making a detailed survey of the principal features in view, and for reading the
history written in cliffs and glaciers. When the long summer day drew to a
close, we returned to our tent and watched the great peaks become dim and
generalized in outline as the twilight deepened. The fading light caused the
mountains to recede farther and farther, until at last they seemed ghostly
giants, too far away to be definitely recognized. With the twilight came soft,
gray, uncertain clouds drawn slowly and silently about the rugged precipices
by the summer winds from the sea. St. Elias became enveloped in luminous
clouds, with the exception of a few hundred feet of the shining summit; and a
glory in the sky, to the left of the veiled Saint, marked the place where the sun
went down. The shadows crept across the snow-fields and changed them from
dazzling white to a soft gray-blue. Night came on silently, and with but little
change. There was no folding of wings; no twittering of birds in leafy
branches; no sighing of winds among rustling leaves. All was stern and wild
and still; there was not a touch of life to relieve the desolation. A midwinter
night in inhabited lands was never more solemn. Man had never rested there
before.

The air grew chill when the shadows crossed our tent, and delicate ice crystals
began to shoot on the still surface of our little pond. We bade good night to the
stern peaks, about which there were signs of a coming storm, and sought the

shelter of our tent. Small and comfortless as was that shelter, it shut out the
wintry scene and afforded a welcome retreat. Sound, refreshing sleep, with
dreams of loved ones far away, renewed our strength for another advance.

The next day, August 8, a topographic station was occupied on the summit of
the Pinnacle pass cliffs. We were astir before sunrise, and had breakfast over
before four o'clock. The morning was cold, and a cutting wind swept down the
Seward glacier from the northeast. All of the mountains were lost to view in
dense clouds. A few rays of sunshine breaking through the vapor banks above
Point Glorious gave promise of better weather during the day. Lindsley and
Stamy had not yet returned from the lower camp, where they were to obtain
additional rations; and Kerr and I concluded to try to reach the crest of the
Pinnacle pass cliffs and take the chances of the weather being favorable for
our work.

Leaving camp in the early morning light, we chose to climb over the summit
of Point Glorious rather than thread the crevasses at its northern base.
Reaching the top of the point, we were still beneath the low canopy of clouds,
and could see far up the great amphitheatre to the base of Mount Owen.31
Descending the eastern slope, we soon reached the floor of the amphitheatre,
and found the snow smooth and hard and not greatly crevassed. Cheered by
faint promise of blue skies, we pressed on rapidly, the snow creaking beneath
our tread as on a winter morning. Two or three hours of rapid walking brought
us to the southern wall of the amphitheatre, nearly beneath the point we
wished to occupy. As we ascended the slope the way became more difficult,
owing not only to its steepness but also to the fact that the snow was softening,
and also because great crevasses crossed our path. Looking back over the
snow we had crossed, two well-characterized features on its surface could be
distinguished: these were large areas with a gray tint, caused by a covering of
dust. This dust comes from the southern faces of the Pinnacle pass cliffs, and
is blown over the crest of the ridge and scattered far and wide over the snow-
fields toward the north. Should the dust-covered areas become buried beneath
fresh snow, it is evident that the strata of snow would be separated by thin
layers of darker color. This is what has happened many times, as we could see
by looking down into the crevasses. In one deep gulf I counted five distinct
strata of clear white snow, separated by narrow dust-bands. In other instances
there are twenty or more such strata visible. Each layer is evidently the record
of a snow-storm, while the dust-bands indicate intervals of fine weather. The
strata of snow exposed to view in the crevasses, after being greatly

compressed, are usually from ten to fifteen feet thick, but in one instance
exceeded fifty feet. If we assume that each layer represents a winter's snow,
and that compression has reduced each stratum to a third of its original
thickness (and probably the compression has been greater than this), it is
evident that the fresh snows must sometimes reach the depth of from 50 to 150
feet.
31
Named for David Dale Owen, United States geologist.

Toiling on up the snow-slope, we had to wind in and out among deep
crevasses, sometimes crossing them by narrow snow-bridges, and again
jumping them and plunging our alpenstocks deep in the snow when we
reached the farther side. After many windings we reached the summit of the
Pinnacle-pass cliffs. The crest-line is formed of an outcrop of conglomerate
composed of sand and pebbles, in one layer of which I found large quantities
of mussel shells standing in the position in which the creatures lived. The
present elevation of this ancient sea-bottom is 5,000 feet. The strata incline
northward at angles of 30° to 40°. All of the northern slope of the ridge is
deeply covered with snow, and the rock only appears along the immediate
crest. There are, in fact, two crests, as is common with many mountain ridges
in this region, one of rock and the second of snow; the snow crest, which is
usually the higher, is parallel to the rock crest and a few rods north of it. In the
valley between the two ridges we found secure footing, and ascended with
ease to the highest point on the cliffs. Looking over the southern or rocky
crest, we found a sheer descent of about 1,500 feet to the snow-fields below.

The clouds diminished in density and gradually broke away, so that the entire
extent of the St. Elias range was in view, with the exception of the crowning
peak of all, which was still veiled from base to summit. A spur of St. Elias,
extending southward from the main peak, and named The Chariot, gleamed
brightly in the sunlight. It was the first point on which we made observations.
Stretching eastward from St. Elias is the sharp crest of the main range, on
which stand Mounts Newton, Jeannette, Malaspina, Augusta, Logan, and
several other splendid peaks not yet named. Just to the right of Mount
Augusta, on the immediate border of the Seward glacier, rise the Corwin cliffs,
marking an immense fault-scarp of the same general character as the one on
which we stood.

Mr. Kerr endeavored at first to occupy a station on the crest of the rocky ridge,
but as the steepness of the slope and the shattered condition of the rock
rendered the station hazardous, the snow-ridge, which was covered with dust
and sand and nearly as firm as rock, was occupied instead. The clouds parting
toward the northeast revealed several giant peaks not before seen, some of
which seem to rival in height St. Elias itself. One stranger, rising in three
white domes far above the clouds, was especially magnificent. As this was
probably the first time its summit was ever seen, we took the liberty of giving
it a name. It will appear on our maps as Mount Logan, in honor of Sir William
E. Logan, founder and long director of the Geological Survey of Canada.

The clouds grew denser in the east, and shut off all hope of extending the map-
work in that direction. While Kerr was making topographic sketches I tried to
decipher some of the geological history of the region around me and make
myself more familiar with its glaciers and snow-fields.

Even more remarkable than the mighty peaks toward the north, beheld that
day for the first time, was the vast plateau of ice stretching seaward from the
foot of the mountains. From my station what seemed to be the ocean's shore
near Icy bay could just be distinguished. Beyond the bay there is a group of
hills which come boldly down to the sea, and apparently form a sea-cliff at the
water's edge. Beyond this headland there is another vast glacier extending
westward to the limits of vision. The view from this point is essentially the
same as that obtained from the cliffs at Pinnacle pass a few days earlier, except
that it is far more extended. It need not be described in detail.

The clouds becoming thicker and settling in dark masses about the mountains,
we gave up all hope of further work and started for our camp. On the way
down the ridge between the crest of snow and the crest of rock we found a
stratum of sandstone filled with fossil leaves, and near at hand another layer
charged with very recent sea-shells. Collecting all of these that we could carry,
we trudged on, finding the snow soft and some of the bridges which we had
easily crossed in the morning now weak, trembling, and insecure. We crossed
them safely, however, and, reaching the level floor of the amphitheatre,
marched wearily on toward Point Glorious. This time we passed along the
northern base of the butte at an elevation of two or three hundred feet above
the glacier, and, taking a convenient slide down the snow-slope, reached our
tent.

Soon a delicious cup of coffee was prepared, bacon was fried, and these were
put in a warm place while some griddle cakes were being baked. A warm
supper, followed by a restful pipe, ended the day. Kerr and I were our own
cooks and our own housekeepers during much of the time we lived above the
snow-line. We cleared away the remains of the supper, and prepared our
blankets for the night. One of the huge ice pinnacles on the glacier fell with a
great crash just as we were turning in. Rain began to fall, and the night was
cold and disagreeable; how it passed I do not know, as I slept soundly.
Scarcely anything less serious than the blowing away of our tent could have
awakened me.

ACROSS SEWARD GLACIER TO DOME PASS.

Stormy weather and the necessity of bringing additional supplies from
Blossom island detained us at Camp 14 until August 13. We rose at three
o'clock on the morning of that day, and, after a hasty breakfast, prepared to
cross the Seward glacier. The morning was cold but clear, and the air was
bracing. Each peak and mountain crest in the rugged landscape stood out
boldly in the early light, although the sun had not risen. Soon the summit of
St. Elias became tipped with gold, and then peak after peak, in order of their
rank, caught the radiance, and in a short time the vast snow-fields were of
dazzling splendor.

The frost of the night before had hardened the snow, which made walking a
pleasure. We crossed a rocky spur projecting northward from Point Glorious
into the Seward glacier, and had to lower our packs down the side of the
precipice with the aid of ropes. Our course led at first up the border of the
great glacier to a point above the head of the rapids already referred to, then
curved to the westward, and for a mile or two coincided with the general trend
of the crevasses. We made good progress, but at length we came to where the
Augusta glacier pours its flood of ice into the main stream and, owing to its
high grade, is greatly broken. Skirting this difficult area, we passed a number
of small blue lakelets and reached the western border of the Seward glacier.
We found a gently rising snow-slope leading westward through a gap that
could be seen in hills a few miles in advance. But little difficulty was now
experienced, except that the snow had become soft under the summer's sun,
and walking over it with heavy loads was wearisome in the extreme. We could
see, however, that the way ahead was clear, and that encouraged us to push on.

Toward night we found a camping place on a steep ridge of shale and
sandstone projecting eastward from a spur of Mount Malaspina. This ridge
rises about five hundred feet above the surrounding glacier, and has steep
roof-like slopes. The summer sun had melted nearly all the snow from its
southern face, but the northern slope was still heavily loaded. The snow on the
northern side stood some thirty or forty feet higher than the rocky crest of the
ridge itself, and between the rock crest and the snow crest there was a little
valley which afforded ample shelter for our tent and was quite safe from
avalanches. The melting of the snow-bank during the warm days supplied us
with water.

The formation of crests of snow standing high above the rocky ridges on
which they rest is a peculiar and interesting feature of the mountains of the St.
Elias region. A north-and-south section through the ridge on which Camp 15
was situated, exhibiting the double crests, one of rock and the other of snow, is
shown at a in figure 6. b is a section through a similar ridge with a still higher
snow crest. The remaining figures in the illustration are sketches of mountain
peaks, as seen from the south, which have been increased in height by a heavy
accumulation of snow on their northern slopes. These sketches are of peaks
among the foothills of Mount Malaspina, and show snow pinnacles from fifty
to more than a hundred feet high. In some instances, domes and crests of snow
were seen along the western sides of the ridges and peaks, but as a rule these
snow-tips on the mountains are confined to their northern slopes. The edges
and summits of the snow-ridges are sharply defined and clearly cut. The
southern slope exposed above the crest of rock is often concave, while the
northern slopes are usually convex.

FIGURE 6—Snow Crests on Ridges and Peaks; from Field Sketches.

In climbing steep ridges the double crests are frequently of great assistance.
Safe footing may frequently be found in the channels between the crests of
rock and snow, by the aid of which very precipitous peaks may be climbed
with ease. In case the ascent between the two crests is not practicable, the even
snow-slope itself affords a sure footing for one used to mountain climbing.

After establishing Camp 15, Lindsley and Stamy returned to one of the lower
camps for additional supplies, while Kerr and I explored a way for farther
advance.

Our camp occupied a commanding situation. From the end of the ridge on
which it was located there was a splendid view of glaciers and mountains to
the eastward. The illustration forming plate 18 is from a photograph taken
from that station. Toward the north, and only a few miles away, rose the bare,
rugged slope of Mount Malaspina. In a wild, high-grade gorge on its western
side, a glacier, all pinnacles and crevasses, tumbles down into the broad white
plain below. On account of its splendid ice-fall this was named the Cascade
glacier. Beyond the white plain, stretching eastward for fifteen or twenty
miles, there rise the foothills of Mount Cook. Farther south, the rugged,
angular summits of the Hitchcock range are in full view, and toward the north
stands Mount Irving,32 which rivals even Mount Cook in the symmetrical
proportions of its snow-covered slopes.

32
Named in honor of Professor Roland Duer Irving, U. S. geologist.

The surface of the vast snow-plain near at hand is gashed by many gaping
fissures, but the distance is so great that these minor details disappear in a
general view. Looking down over the snow, one may see the crevasses as in a
diagram. They look as if the white surface had been gashed with a sharp knife,
and then stretched in such a way as to open the cuts. That the snow of the
névés may be stretched, at least to a limited extent, is shown by the character
of these fissures. The crevasses are widest in the center and come to a point at
their curving extremities. Two crevasses frequently overlap at their ends and
leave a sliver of ice stretching across diagonally between them. It is by means
of these diagonal bridges that one is enabled to thread his way through the
crevasses.

On returning to camp in the evening, weary with a hard day's climb, a never-
failing source of delight was found in the matchless winter landscape to the
eastward. The evenings following days of uninterrupted sunshine were
especially delightful. The blue shadows of the western peaks creeping across
the shining surface were nearly as sharp in outline as the peaks that cast them.
When the chill of evening made itself felt, and the dropping water and the
indefinite murmurs from the glacier below were stilled, the silence became
oppressive. The stillness was so profound that it seemed as though the
footsteps of the advancing shadows should be audible.

On warm sunny days, however, there are noises enough amid the mountains.
The snow, partially melted and softened by the heat, falls from the cliffs in
avalanches that make the mountains tremble and, with a roar like thunder,
awaken the echoes far and near. During our stay at Camp 15 the avalanches
were sometimes so frequent on the steep mountain faces toward the north that
the roar of one falling mass of snow and rocks was scarcely hushed before it
was succeeded by another.

On the southward-facing cliffs of Mount Augusta, composed of schist which
disintegrates rapidly, there are frequent rock avalanches. A rock or a mass of
comminuted schist sometimes breaks away even in midday, although these
avalanches occur most frequently when the moisture in the rocks freezes. The
midday avalanches, I fancy, may be started by the expansion of the rocks
owing to the sun's heat. A few stones dislodged high up on the cliffs fall, and,
loosening others in their descent, soon set in motion a train of dirt and stones,

which flows down the steep ravines with a long rumbling roar, at the same
time sending clouds of dust into the air. If the wind is blowing up the cliffs, as
frequently happens on warm days, the dust is carried far above the mountains,
and hangs in the air like clouds of smoke.

It has been frequently stated that St. Elias is a volcano, and sea captains sailing
on the Pacific have seen what they supposed to be smoke issuing from its
summit. As its southern face is composed of the same kind of rocks and is of
the same precipitous nature as the southern slope of Mount Augusta, it appears
probable that what was supposed to be volcanic smoke was in reality
avalanche dust blown upward by ascending air currents.

The disintegration of the mountain summits all through the St. Elias region is
so great that one constantly wonders that anything is left; yet, except late in
the fall, the snow surfaces at the bases of even the steepest cliffs are mostly
bare of débris. The absence of earth and stones on the surfaces of the névé
fields is mainly due, of course, to the fact that these are regions of
accumulation where the winter's snow exceeds the summer's melting. Thus
each year the surface is renewed and made fresh and clean, and any débris that
may have previously accumulated is concealed.

There is another reason, however, why but little débris is found at the bases of
the steep precipices. The snows of winter are banked high against these walls,
but when the rocks are warmed by the return of the summer's sun the snow
near their dark surfaces is melted, and leaves a deep gulf between the upward-
sloping banks of snow and the sides of the cliffs. These black chasms are
frequently 150 or 200 feet deep, and receive all the débris that falls from
above. In this way very large quantities of earth and stones are injected, as it
were, into the glacier, and only come to light again far down toward the ends
of the ice-streams, where the summer's melting exceeds the winter's supply.

On August 14, Kerr and I made an excursion ahead to the border of the
Agassiz glacier. The snow-slope south of our camp led westward up a gentle
grade to a gap in the hills between two bold, snow-covered domes. The gap
through which the snow extended, uniting with a broad snow-field sloping
westward, was only a few hundred feet wide, and formed a typical mountain
pass, designated on our map as Dome pass. Its elevation is 4,300 feet. When
near the summit of the pass a few steps carried us past the divide of snow, and
revealed to our eager eyes the wonderland beyond. St. Elias rose majestically
before us, unobstructed by intervening hills, and bare of clouds from base to
summit. We were greatly encouraged by the prospect ahead, as there were
evidently no obstacles between us and the actual base of the mountain. A
photograph of the magnificent peak was taken, from which the illustration
forming plate 19 has been drawn. To the right of the main mountain mass, as
shown in the illustration, rises Mount Newton,33 one of the many separate
mountain peaks crowning the crest of the St. Elias range. Our way led down
the snow-slope in the foreground to the border of the Agassiz glacier, which

comes in view between the foot-hills in the middle distance and the sculptured
base on which the crowning pyramid of St. Elias stands. After reaching the
Agassiz glacier we turned to the right, and made our way to the amphitheatre
lying between Mount St. Elias and Mount Newton. On the day we discovered
Dome pass, we pressed on down the western snow-slope and reached the side
of the Agassiz glacier, which we found greatly crevassed; selecting a camping
place on a rocky spur, we returned to Camp 15, and two days later established
camp at the place chosen.
33
Named for Henry Newton, formerly of the School of Mines of Columbia college and author of a
report on the geology of the Black hills of Dakota.

Camp 16 was similar in many ways to Camp 14. It had about the same
altitude; it was at the western end of a rugged mountain spur, and on the
immediate border of a large southward-flowing glacier. On the lower portions
of the cliffs, near at hand, there were velvety patches of brilliant Alpine
flowers mingled with thick bunches of wiry grass and clumps of delicate ferns.
Most conspicuous of all the showy plants, so bright and lovely in the vast
wilderness of snow, were the purple lupines. Already the flowers on the lower
portions of their spikes had matured, and pods covered with a thick coating of
wooly hairs were beginning to be conspicuous. There are no bees and
butterflies in these isolated gardens, but brown flies with long-pointed wings
were abundant. A gray bird, a little larger than a sparrow, was seen flitting in
and out of crevasses near the border of the ice, apparently in quest of insects.
Once, while stretched at full length on the flowery carpet enjoying the warm
sunlight, a humming bird flashed past me. Occasionally the hoarse cries of
ravens were heard among the cliffs, but they seldom ventured near enough to
be seen. These few suggestions were all there was to remind us of the summer
fields and shady forests in far-away lands.

UP THE AGASSIZ GLACIER.

From Camp 16 Kerr and I made an excursion across the Agassiz glacier, while
Stamy and Lindsley returned to a lower camp for additional supplies. We
found the glacier greatly crevassed and the way across more difficult than on
any of the ice-fields we had previously traversed; but by dint of perseverance,
and after many changes in our course, we succeeded at last in reaching the
western bank, and saw that by climbing a precipice bordering an ice-cascade

we could gain a plateau above, which we knew from previous observations to
be comparatively little broken. We returned to camp, and on August 18 began
the ascent of the glacier in earnest. We were favored in the task by brilliant
weather.

After reaching the western bank of the glacier, we made our way to the base of
the precipice up which we had previously wished to climb. In order to reach it,
however, we had to throw our packs across a crevasse over which there was
no bridge, and followed them by jumping. The side of the crevasse from
which we sprang was higher than its opposite lip, and left us very uncertain as
to how we were to return; but that was a matter for the future; our aim at the
time was to ascend the glacier, and the return was of no immediate concern.

Reaching the base of the cliff at the side of the glacier, we ascended it without
great difficulty, and came out upon the broad plateau of snow above. Thinking
that the way onward would be easier along the steep snow-slope bordering the
glacier, we made an effort to ascend in that direction, and spent two or three
precious hours in trying to find a practicable route. Although the crevasses
were fewer than on the glacier proper, yet they were of larger size and had but
few bridges. At last we came to a wide gulf on the opposite side of which there
was a perpendicular wall of snow a hundred feet high, and all further advance
in that direction was stopped. Although obliged to turn back, our elevated
position commanded a good view of the glacier below and enabled us to
choose a way through the maze of crevasses crossing it. Descending, we
plodded wearily on in an irregular zigzag course; but the crevasses became
broader and deeper as we advanced, and at length we found ourselves
traversing flat table-like blocks of snow, bounded on all sides by crevasses so
deep that their bottoms were lost to view. We made our way from one snow-
table to another by jumping the crevasses where they were narrowest, or by
frail snow-bridges spanning the profound gulfs. Night came on while we were
yet in this wild, broken region, and no choice was left us but to pitch our tent
in the snow and wait until morning. The night was clear and cold, and a firm
crust formed on the snow before morning. Although the temperature was
uncomfortable, we were cheered by the prospects of a firm snow surface on
the morrow.

We continued our march at sunrise and found the walking easy; but the sun
soon came out with unusual brilliancy and softened the snow so much that
even the slowest movements were fatiguing. We endeavored to force our way

up the center of the glacier through the crevasses and pinnacles of a second
ice-fall; but after several hours of exhausting experience we were obliged to
change our plan, and endeavored to reach a mountain spur projecting from the
western border of the glacier. The sunlight reflected from the snow was
extremely brilliant, and the glare from every surface about us was painful to
our eyes, already weakened by many days' travel over the white snow. Each
member of the party was provided with colored glasses, but in traversing
snow-bridges and jumping crevasses these had to be dispensed with. The
result was that all of us were suffering more or less from snow-blindness.

About noon we reached the base of the mountain spur toward which our
course was bent. It projects into the western border of Agassiz glacier. It is the
extension of this cliff underneath the glacier that caused the ice-fall which
blocked our way. To go round the end of the cliff with our packs was
impracticable, but there seemed a way up the face of the cliff itself, which one
could scale by taking advantage of the joints in the rocks. I ascended the
snow-slope to the base of the precipice, but found the way upward more
difficult than anticipated; and, as the light was very painful to my eyes when
not protected by colored glasses, I decided to postpone making the climb until
I was in better condition, and in the meantime to see if some other route could
not be found. We decided to camp on a small patch of débris near the base of
the cliff, and there left our loads. Kerr and Lindsley, taking a rope and
alpenstocks, went around the end of the rocky spur and worked their way
upward with great difficulty to the top of the cliff immediately above where I
had essayed to climb it. A rope was made fast at the top, and our way onward
was secured. This place was afterward called Rope cliff. The remainder of the
afternoon I rested in the tent, with my eyes bound up with tea-leaves, and
when evening came found the pain in my head much relieved.

Our tent that night was so near the brink of a crevasse that in order to stay the
tent one end of the ridge-rope was made fast to a large stone, which was
lowered into the gulf to serve as a stake. Above us rose a precipice nearly a
thousand feet high, from which stones were constantly falling; but a deep
black gulf intervened between the position we had chosen and the base of the
cliffs, and into this the stones were precipitated. Not one of the falling
fragments reached the edge of the snow slope on which we were camped, but
many times during the night we heard the whiz and hum of the rocks as they
shot down from the cliffs. The noise made by each fragment in its passage
through the air increased rapidly in pitch, thus indicating that they were

approaching us; but they always fell short of our camp. The bombardment
from above was most active just after the shadows fell on the cliffs, showing
that the stones were loosened by the freezing of the water in the interstices of
the rock.

The next day, August 20, Stamy and Lindsley went back to Camp 16 for more
rations, while Kerr and I remained at Camp 18 nursing our eyes and resting.
The day passed without anything worthy of note, except the almost constant
thunder of avalanches on the mountains. About sunset a dense fog spread over
the wintry landscape and threatened to delay the return of the men. When the
sun went down, however, the temperature fell several degrees, the mist
vanished, and a few stars came out clear and bright. Just as we were about to
despair of seeing the men that night we heard a distant shout announcing their
return. We had a cup of hot coffee for them when they reached the tent, which
they drank with eagerness; but they were too tired to partake of food. Rolling
themselves in their blankets, they were asleep in a few minutes.

CAMP ON THE NEWTON GLACIER.

On August 21 we climbed the cliff above Camp 18 by means of the rope
already placed there, and found the snow above greatly crevassed. We traveled
upward along the steep slope bordering the glacier, but soon came to a deep
crevasse which forbade further progress in that direction. Returning to a lower
level, we undertook to smooth off an extremely narrow snow-bridge so as to
make it wide enough to cross, but found the undertaking so hazardous that we
abandoned it. By this time it was midday, and we prepared a cup of hot coffee
before renewing our attack on the cliffs. After luncheon and a short rest,
feeling very much refreshed, we began to cut a series of steps in a bluff of
snow about fifty feet high, and made rapid progress in the undertaking. After
an hour's hard work one of us reached the top and, planting an alpenstock deep
in the snow, lowered a rope to those below. The packs were drawn up one at a
time and we were soon ready to advance again.

We found ourselves in a vast amphitheatre bounded on all sides excepting that
from which we had come with rugged, snow-covered precipices. The plain
was crossed by huge crevasses, some of which were fully a mile in length; but
by traveling around their ends or crossing snow-bridges we slowly worked our
way onward toward St. Elias. Threading our way through the labyrinth of