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Alaska Days with John Muir By: Samual Hall Young (1847-1927) |
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[Illustration: JOHN MUIR WITH ALASKA SPRUCE CONES] ALASKA DAYS WITH JOHN MUIR by S. HALL YOUNG Illustrated [Illustration] New York Chicago Toronto Fleming H. Revell Company London and Edinburgh Copyright, 1915, by Fleming H. Revell Company New York: 158 Fifth Avenue Chicago: 125 N. Wabash Ave. Toronto: 25 Richmond St., W. London: 21 Paternoster Square Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street CONTENTS I THE MOUNTAIN 11 II THE RESCUE 37 III THE VOYAGE 59 IV THE DISCOVERY 95 V THE LOST GLACIER 125 VI THE DOG AND THE MAN 163 VII THE MAN IN PERSPECTIVE 201 ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE John Muir with Alaska Spruce Cones Title Fort Wrangell 12 The Mountain 24 One of the Marvelous Array of Lakes 40 Glacier Stickeen Valley 54 Chilcat Woman Weaving a Blanket 82 Muir Glacier 114 Davidson Glacier 128 Taku Glacier 150 The Front of Muir Glacier 168 Glacial Crevasses 186 John Muir in Later Life 200 Map 70 (Voyages of Muir and Young) THE MOUNTAIN THUNDER BAY Deep calm from God enfolds the land; Light on the mountain top I stand; How peaceful all, but ah, how grand! Low lies the bay beneath my feet; The bergs sail out, a white winged fleet, To where the sky and ocean meet. Their glacier mother sleeps between Her granite walls. The mountains lean Above her, trailing skirts of green. Each ancient brow is raised to heaven: The snow streams always, tempest driven, Like hoary locks, o'er chasms riven By throes of Earth. But, still as sleep, No storm disturbs the quiet deep Where mirrored forms their silence keep. A heaven of light beneath the sea! A dream of worlds from shadow free! A pictured, bright eternity! The azure domes above, below (A crystal casket), hold and show, As precious jewels, gems of snow, Dark emerald islets, amethyst Of far horizon, pearls of mist In pendant clouds, clear icebergs, kissed By wavelets, sparkling diamonds rare Quick flashing through the ambient air. A ring of mountains, graven fair In lines of grace, encircles all, Save where the purple splendors fall On sky and ocean's bridal hall. The yellow river, broad and fleet, Winds through its velvet meadows sweet A chain of gold for jewels meet. Pours over all the sun's broad ray; Power, beauty, peace, in one array! My God, I thank Thee for this day. I THE MOUNTAIN In the summer of 1879 I was stationed at Fort Wrangell in southeastern Alaska, whence I had come the year before, a green young student fresh from college and seminary very green and very fresh to do what I could towards establishing the white man's civilization among the Thlinget Indians. I had very many things to learn and many more to unlearn. Thither came by the monthly mail steamboat in July to aid and counsel me in my work three men of national reputation Dr. Henry Kendall of New York; Dr. Aaron L. Lindsley of Portland, Oregon, and Dr. Sheldon Jackson of Denver and the West. Their wives accompanied them and they were to spend a month with us. Standing a little apart from them as the steamboat drew to the dock, his peering blue eyes already eagerly scanning the islands and mountains, was a lean, sinewy man of forty, with waving, reddish brown hair and beard, and shoulders slightly stooped. He wore a Scotch cap and a long, gray tweed ulster, which I have always since associated with him, and which seemed the same garment, unsoiled and unchanged, that he wore later on his northern trips... Continue reading book >>
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History |
Travel |
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