In the mean time the storm was a fine study. Here
the end of the glacier, descending an abrupt swell of resisting rock
about five hundred feet high, leans forward and falls in ice cascades.
And as the storm came down the glacier from the north, Stickeen and I
were beneath the main current of the blast, while favorably located to
see and hear it. What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the
smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small
voices of the storm! Detached wafts and swirls were coming through the
woods, with music from the leaves and branches and furrowed boles, and
even from the splintered rocks and ice-crags overhead, many of the tones
soft and low and flute-like, as if each leaf and tree, crag and spire
were a tuned reed. A broad torrent, draining the side of the glacier,
now swollen by scores of new streams from the mountains, was rolling
boulders along its rocky channel, with thudding, bumping, muffled
sounds, rushing towards the bay with tremendous energy, as if in haste
to get out of the mountains; the waters above and beneath calling to
each other, and all to the ocean, their home.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26