In The Early Morning After So Inspiring A Night I Launched My Canoe
Feeling Able For Anything, Crossed The Mouth Of The Hugh Miller
Fiord, And Forced A Way Three Or Four Miles Along The Shore Of The
Bay, Hoping To Reach The Grand Pacific Glacier In Front Of Mt.
Fairweather.
But the farther I went, the ice-pack, instead of showing
inviting little open streaks here and there, became so much harder
jammed that on some parts of the shore the bergs, drifting south with
the tide, were shoving one another out of the water beyond high-tide
line.
Farther progress to northward was thus rigidly stopped, and
now I had to fight for a way back to my cabin, hoping that by good
tide luck I might reach it before dark. But at sundown I was less
than half-way home, and though very hungry was glad to land on a
little rock island with a smooth beach for the canoe and a thicket of
alder bushes for fire and bed and a little sleep. But shortly after
sundown, while these arrangements were being made, lo and behold
another aurora enriching the heavens! and though it proved to be
one of the ordinary almost colorless kind, thrusting long, quivering
lances toward the zenith from a dark cloudlike base, after last
night's wonderful display one's expectations might well be
extravagant and I lay wide awake watching.
On the third night I reached my cabin and food. Professor Reid and
his party came in to talk over the results of our excursions, and
just as the last one of the visitors opened the door after bidding
good-night, he shouted, "Muir, come look here.
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