Isolated pinnacles of snow stood up like monuments the black sand, as precursors of the permanent snow-line. The cool snow-line was a luxury for the first few Moments. We sat down and lunched by it, and from here took our last views backward. Cumulus clouds presently filled up the valley with a symmetrical arrangenent like pavement. Such bits as appeared through furtive openings recalled the charming lines of Holmes's, in which a spirit, "homesick in heaven," looks back on the earth it has left:
"To catch perchance some flashing glimpse of green,
Or breathe some wild-wood fragrance, wafted through
The opening gates of pearl."
Up to this point—a little higher, let us say—the effort is rewarded. A view of
"the kingdoms of the world and the glory thereof" has been had which could not be got elsewhere. But above this it has little more reward than that of being able to boast of it to your friends. A few steps in the snow, and imperfectly protected feet were sodden, numb with cold, and not to be dried again till the
final descent. There was a painful slipping and falling in the snow, and blood-marks were left by ungloved
hands. The grade is excessive, the top invisible. Who can estimate when he shall attain it. The prospect consists of jagged snow-pinnacles without cessation, an endless staircase of them reaching up into the sky. Sometimes, in the sun, all the pinnacles glitter; again, thick
fogs, like a gray smoke, gather round. There is no more casting yourself down now in warm scoriae and sand. If
you sit you are chilled. Yet rest you must continually. Every step is a calculation and an achievement. You
calculate that you will allow yourself a rest after ten, after twenty more. The snow is not dangerous; there
