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 A History of
Seventeenth-Century
English Literature
Thomas N. Corns
A History of Seventeenth-Century
English Literature
BLACKWELL HISTORIES OF LITERATURE

The books in this series renew and redefine a familiar form by recog-
nizing that to write literary history involves more than placing texts in
chronological sequence. Thus the emphasis within each volume falls
both on plotting the significant literary developments of a given
period, and on the wider cultural contexts within which they occurred.
‘Cultural history’ is construed in broad terms and authors address such
issues as politics, society, the arts, ideologies, varieties of literary pro-
duction and consumption, and dominant genres and modes. The
effect of each volume is to give the reader a sense of possessing a
crucial sector of literary terrain, of understanding the forces that give
a period its distinctive cast and of seeing how writing of a given period
impacts on, and is shaped by, its cultural circumstances.

General editor: Peter Brown, University of Kent, Canterbury

Published to date
Old English Literature Robert Fulk
Seventeenth-Century English Literature Thomas N. Corns
Forthcoming
Victorian Literature James Eli Adams
 A History of
Seventeenth-Century
English Literature
Thomas N. Corns
ß 2007 by Thomas N. Corns

BLACKWELL PUBLISHING
350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148-5020, USA
9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK
550 Swanston Street, Carlton, Victoria 3053, Australia
The right of Thomas N. Corns to be identified as the Author of this Work has been
asserted in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, except as permitted by the UK Copyright,
Designs, and Patents Act 1988, without the prior permission of the publisher.
First published 2007 by Blackwell Publishing Ltd
1 2007

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Corns, Thomas N.
A history of seventeenth-century English literature / Thomas N. Corns.
p. cm.—(Blackwell histories of literature)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN-13: 978-0-631-22169-2 (alk. paper)
ISBN-10: 0-631-22169-7 (alk. paper)
1. English literature—Early modern, 1500–1700—History and criticism.
2. Great Britain—Intellectual life—17th century. I. Title. II. Series.
PR431.C67 2007
820.9’004—dc22
2006004745

A catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Set in 10.5pt/13pt Galliard
by SPI Publisher Services, Pondicherry, India
Printed and bound in Singapore
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The publisher’s policy is to use permanent paper from mills that operate a sustainable forestry
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To Pat, for even more patience
 Contents

List of illustrations ix
Preface x

1 The Last Years of Elizabeth I: Before March 1603 1

Literary Consumption and Production 2
Latin, Neo-Latin and English 14
Manuscript, Performance, Print 16
The Press and its Controls 22
The Final Years of Elizabethan Theatre 26
Patronage and Court Culture 30

2 From the Accession of James I to the Defenestration

of Prague: March 1603 to May 1618 33
Changes and Continuities 33
The Making of the Royal Courts 35
Masques and Other Court Entertainments 38
Early Jacobean Theatre 42
Jacobean Shakespeare 45
Other Drama 70
Non-Dramatic Poetry 87
Non-Fictional Prose 113

3 From the Defenestration of Prague to the Personal Rule:

May 1618 to March 1629 119
Continental Wars 119
Three Funerals and a Wedding 123
Masques and Pageants 129
 Contents vii

Plays and Players 133

Poetry and Prose Romance 151
Non-Fictional Prose 156
News 164

4 The Literature of the Personal Rule:

March 1629 to April 1640 167
The Making of the Caroline Court 167
Masques of the Personal Rule 176
Other Entertainments 182
Music and Literature at the Caroline Court 184
Themes, Occasions and Conversations 186
From Manuscript to Print 190
Plays and Players 192
Literature and Laudianism 203
George Herbert 206
The Emblem Books of Quarles and Wither 215
Early Milton 221

5 From the Short Parliament to the Restoration:

April 1640 to May 1660 229
Events and Consequences 229
Royalist Poetry 239
Crashaw and Vaughan 264
Mid-Century Drama 273
Sir Thomas Browne 277
Poetry for Parliament and Protectorate 283
Pamphlet Wars 295
Newspapers 311

6 The Literature of the Rule of Charles II:

May 1660 to February 1685 317
Dissent, Popery and Arbitrary Government 317
Theatre of the Rule of Charles II 327
Rochesterism 352
The Poetry of Dryden and Butler 360
Marvell After 1660 370
Bunyan, Pepys and Sprat 381
viii Contents

Milton, St Nicholas and Hutchinson 391

Katherine Philips and Margaret Cavendish 405

7 From the Accession of James II: After February 1685 409

James II and the Williamite Revolution 409
Aphra Behn: The Late Works 413
Dryden and James II 416
After 1690 421

Bibliography 429
Index 453
 List of Illustrations

Plate 1: Ben Jonson, The Workes of Benjamin Jonson

(1616), portrait frontispiece and title page. 98
Plate 2: Michael Drayton, Poly-Olbion (1612), title
page and facing text. 108
Plate 3: Michael Drayton, Poly-Olbion (1612),
map of ‘Carnarvanshire’. 109
Plate 4: William Shakespeare, Mr. William Shakespeares
Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies (1623),
portrait frontispiece and titlepage. 150
Plate 5: Francis Quarles, Emblemes (1635), Emblem X. 219
Plate 6: George Wither, A Collection of Emblemes
(1635), pp. 4–5. 220
Plate 7: John Milton, Poems (1645), portrait frontispiece
and title page. 222
Plate 8: John Dryden, The Works of Virgil (1697),
frontispiece and title page. 425
Plate 9: John Dryden, The Works of Virgil (1697),
a plate from the Aeneid. 426
 Preface

This is a history of English literature in the seventeenth century. It

covers writing in English in England and Wales. Writing in English in
Scotland and Ireland, like new composition in Latin, figures only
marginally, where it relates to or illuminates the principal subject.
Literatures produced in the other languages of Britain and Ireland
are not considered, because they are both beyond my remit and
outside my competence.
Other decisions in the selection or omission of texts are less clear-
cut. Those authors who currently are most read and studied receive
most attention. I have added some non-canonical works to throw light
on the mainstream, together with some which, in my view, have
literary merit that has been overlooked. Writers who were once influ-
ential or were otherwise perceived as important in their own day are
generally included, even though they have substantially fallen from the
canon. Translation, particularly from the classical languages, was a
significant component of the seventeenth-century experience of litera-
ture. Here my treatment is selective and perhaps somewhat arbitrary,
though works which proved influential, like Sylvester’s rendition of Du
Bartas, are included. Dryden’s late, glorious translations seemed too
good and too important a component of his oeuvre to omit. Populist
genres such as ballads or works of popular piety for the most part are
drawn on only as part of the larger cultural context. Writers in other
genres outside those that are typically considered literary appear inter-
mittently. Francis Bacon and Thomas Sprat, who have often figured in
critical histories of non-fictional prose, are engaged with in literary
terms; Thomas Hobbes and John Locke, despite their higher status
as thinkers, are not considered, except as influences on or analogues
to other writers. Though both write with persuasive power, their
 Preface xi

principal genius rests in their contribution to the tradition of western

philosophy, and a proper appreciation of their work would have carried
me beyond the concerns of literary history.
This study owes much to the kindness of others. Neville Davies, Paul
Hammond, Neil Keeble, Robert Wilcher and David Womersley read
and commented on large sections. Alastair Fowler read it in its entirety,
and with extraordinary generosity met with me over two days to talk
through matters of detail and some of the larger issues. More casual
conversations with Gordon Campbell, David Loewenstein and Nigel
Smith, particularly at the early stages, shaped the project more pro-
foundly than they can have realized. The early modernists among my
Bangor colleagues, Tony Claydon, Bruce Wood, Andrew Hiscock and
Ceri Sullivan, have been a recurrent source of advice and assistance.
The English department, by the sweat of its collective brow, made
possible a semester of study leave at a critical point, and I am grateful,
too, to Densil Morgan, who deputized for me as head of the School of
Arts and Humanities over that period. Several people at Blackwell
Publishing also deserve my thanks: Andrew McNeillie for encouraging
me to take the commission on and Emma Bennett for encouraging me
to finish it; and Karen Wilson and Sarah Dancy for seeing it through
the final stages. The dedication acknowledges a more pervasive kind of
debt.

Thomas N. Corns
Bangor, Gwynedd
 1
The Last Years of
Elizabeth I:
Before March 1603

This chapter deals with the literary history of the concluding years of
the Tudor era. In terms of the material circumstances of literary
production and consumption, much that is described remained sub-
stantially unchanged from the 1590s, nor were there major discon-
tinuities with literary life in the Jacobean decades. There were some
highly significant shifts of emphasis, particularly in the structures of
patronage, as the fall of Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex, dis-
rupted the complex web of protection and praise that had developed
around his circle. The arrival of the Stuart court, with radically differ-
ent cultural aspirations and a diverse and polycentric organization,
would open new opportunities. Few of the writers who shaped the
literary culture of the Elizabethan golden age lived into the new
century. Sir Philip Sidney died in 1586, Edmund Spenser in 1599,
Robert Greene in 1592, Christopher Marlowe in 1593, Thomas Kyd
in 1594. The figures who dominate Jacobean literary culture, Francis
Bacon (b. 1561), John Donne (b. ?1572), Ben Jonson (b. 1572), and
William Shakespeare (b. 1564), were all writing, but only the last had
achieved an eminence to match his Jacobean status. Sidney and Spen-
ser, both available in print before 1600, offered a subtle and pervasive
influence deep into the new century, and many earlier Elizabethan
plays remained in the repertoire of London drama companies, but
inevitably those deaths closed off some aspects of Elizabethan culture,
despite the continuities, as surely as others with different aesthetic
assumption and different strengths moved the tradition on. Yet late
Elizabethan and Jacobean literary cultures shared much common
ground.
Other documents randomly have
different content
 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.
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