in a high mountain valley beside the White Berél, a milky stream which runs out from under a great glacier a few miles higher up. The air was clear and frosty, but we built a big camp-fire and managed to get through the night without much discomfort. Sunday morning we climbed about two thousand feet to the summit of the last ridge, and looked over into the wild valley of the Katún, out of which rise the "Katúnski Pillars," the highest peaks of the Russian
Altái. I was prepared, to a certain extent, for grandeur of scenery, because I had already caught glimpses of these peaks two or three times, at distances varying from twenty-five to eighty miles; but the near view, from the heights above the Katún, so far surpassed all my anticipations that I was simply overawed. I hardly know how to describe it without using language that will seem exaggerated. The word that oftenest rises to my lips when I think of it is "tremendous." It was not beautiful, it was not pictur-
