The Number Of Bergs Given Off Varies Somewhat With The Weather And
The Tides, The Average Being About One Every Five Or Six Minutes,
Counting Only Those That Roar Loud Enough To Make Themselves Heard At
A Distance Of Two Or Three Miles.
The very largest, however, may
under favorable conditions be heard ten miles or even farther.
When a
large mass sinks from the upper fissured portion of the wall, there
is first a keen, prolonged, thundering roar, which slowly subsides
into a low muttering growl, followed by numerous smaller grating
clashing sounds from the agitated bergs that dance in the waves about
the newcomer as if in welcome; and these again are followed by the
swash and roar of the waves that are raised and hurled up the beach
against the moraines. But the largest and most beautiful of the
bergs, instead of thus falling from the upper weathered portion of
the wall, rise from the submerged portion with a still grander
commotion, springing with tremendous voice and gestures nearly to the
top of the wall, tons of water streaming like hair down their sides,
plunging and rising again and again before they finally settle in
perfect poise, free at last, after having formed part of the
slow-crawling glacier for centuries. And as we contemplate their
history, as they sail calmly away down the fiord to the sea, how
wonderful it seems that ice formed from pressed snow on the far-off
mountains two or three hundred years ago should still be pure and
lovely in color after all its travel and toil in the rough mountain
quarries, grinding and fashioning the features of predestined
landscapes.
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