Parallel with its convex face ran a succession of indistinctly marked lines, which gave it the aspect of a semi-fluid mass moving downward upon an inclined surface; and this idea was confirmed by its appearance about the rocks on either side. Over these it seemed to have flowed; and, fitting accurately into all their inequalities, it gave the effect of a huge moving mass of partially solidified matter suddenly congealed.

Of still greater interest is the same adventurous explorer’s description of the great Arctic Mer de Glace which lies inland from Rensselaer Bay, in about lat. 79° N., and long. 68° W.

Dr. Hayes and his party had set out on an expedition into the interior, and after passing through a really picturesque landscape, enriched with beds of moss and turf, patches of purple andromeda, and the trailing branches of the dwarf-willow, they emerged upon a broad plain or valley, in the heart of which reposed a frozen lake, about two miles in length by half a mile in width. They traversed its transparent surface. On either side of them rose rugged bluffs, that stretched off into long lines of hills, culminating in series in a broad-topped mountain-ridge, which, running away to right and left, was cut by a gap several miles wide that opened directly before them. Immediately in front was a low hill, around the base of which flowed on either side the branches of a stream whose course they had followed. Leaving the river-bed just above the lake, they climbed to the summit of this hillock; and there a sight burst upon them, grand and imposing beyond the power of words adequately to describe. From the rocky bed, only a few miles in advance, a sloping wall of pure whiteness rose to a broad level plain of ice, which, apparently without limits, stretched away toward the unknown east. It was the great mer de glace of the Arctic continent.

Here then was, in reality, the counterpart of the river-systems of other lands. From behind the granite hills the congealed drainings of the interior water-sheds, the atmospheric precipitations of ages, were moving in a mass, which, though solid, was plastic, moving down through every gap in the mountains, swallowing up the rocks, filling the valleys, submerging the hills: an onward, irresistible, crystal tide, swelling to the ocean. The surface was intersected by numerous vertical crevasses, some of considerable depth, which had drained off the melted snow.

It was midnight when the explorers approached this colossal reservoir. The sun was several degrees beneath the horizon, and afforded a faint twilight-gleam. Stars of the second magnitude were dimly perceptible in the cold, steel-blue Arctic heavens. When they were within about half a mile of the icy wall, a brilliant meteor fell before them, and, by its reflection upon the glassy surface beneath, greatly increased the magical effect of the scene; while loud reports, like distant thunder or the roll of artillery, broke at intervals from the depths of the frozen sea.

On closer inspection it was found that the face of the glacier ascended at an angle of from 30° to 35°. At its base lay a high bank of snow, and the wanderers clambered up it about sixty feet; but beyond this their efforts were defied by the exceeding smoothness of the ice. The mountains, which stood on either hand like giant-warders, were overlapped, and to some extent submerged, by the glacier. From the face of the huge ice-river innumerable little rivulets ran down the channels their action had gradually excavated, or gurgled from beneath the ice; forming, on the level lands below, a sort of marsh, not twenty yards from the icy wall. Here, in strange contrast, bloomed beds of verdurous moss; and in these, tufts of dwarf-willows were wreathing their tiny arms and rootlets about the feebler flower-growths; and there, clustered together, crouching among the grass, and sheltered by the leaves, and feeding on the bed of lichens, flourished a tiny, white-blossomed draba and a white chickweed. Dotting the few feet of green around might be seen the yellow flowers of the more hardy poppy, the purple potentilla, and saxifrages yellow, purple, and white.

The great glacier of Sermiatsialik is one of the arms, or outlets, of this immense reservoir of ice. It occupies the bed of a valley, varying from three and a half to five miles in width, and attaining at certain points a depth of upwards of three hundred and seventy feet. This valley opens upon the fiord of Sermiatsialik, which is separated from that of Julianshaab by the range of mountains culminating in the peak of Redkammen.

We owe to Dr. Hayes a lively description of the Sermiatsialik glacier, which he thinks must at some places be more than seven hundred and fifty feet in depth, overflowing the borders of the valley like a swollen torrent. For upwards of four leagues, the icebergs which throng the fiord, or gulf, are those of the glacier itself, and terminating in a wedge-like outline, disappear in the vast sea of ice expanding to right and left above the loftiest summits, and drawing irresistibly the eye to its rippled surface,—boundless, apparently, like that of ocean. As the voyager sails up the gulf, he gradually loses sight of the frozen slope, and then of the white line of the mer de glace: he finds himself in front of an immense cliff, from one hundred to two hundred feet in height, diaphanous as the purest crystals, and reflecting all the hues of heaven.

One almost shudders as one approaches this vast domain of Winter. Collecting in copious streams, the ice and snow melted on the surface of the glacier pour over its brink, forming floating clouds of spray, irradiated by rainbow colours. The din of these cascades fills the air. At intervals, the loud reports of the internal convulsions of the glacier are repeated by every echo.

The cliff is entirely vertical; but its face, far from being smooth, is broken up into an infinite variety of forms: into unfathomable cavernous hollows, symmetrical spires, ogives, pinnacles, and deep fissures, where the eye plunges into a transparent blue, which changes every second its fleeting, opaline tints; tints so soft, and yet so vivid, that they defy the skill of the artist to reproduce them. The lustre of the “dark eye of woman” is not more difficult to seize. A deep dark green, less delicate but not less splendid, colours all the recesses where the ice overhangs the waters. In the sunlight one sees the surface of these huge crystals shining with the whiteness of the purest snow; except, indeed, where recent fractures have taken place. They suggest to the mind the idea of the gleams and reflections of a piece of satin; the undulatory lustre and shifting sparkle being produced by the different angles under which the light is reflected.

But let us suppose that we have landed; with much difficulty have ascended the cliffs; and have clambered up the glacier to its very summit. The scene before us, how shall we convey to the mind of the reader?

Imagine, if you can, the rapids of the Upper Niagara congealed even to their lowest depths; imagine the falls, and the broad river, and the great Lake Erie all frozen into solid ice; with bergs above the cataract towering as high as the lower banks: suppose that you, the spectator, having taken your stand upon the rapids, with the Erie so near that you can see its crystallized surface, and you will have a picture, on a reduced scale, of the sea of ice now spreading far before us. The rapids will represent the glacier; the Great Fall the cliff which it projects into the sea (only that the celebrated “horse-shoe” is here turned outwards); the river which broadens into the Ontario will be the fiord; and the Ontario, that dark grim ocean into which the gigantic bergs detached from the mighty ice-cascade are slowly making their way!

We must indicate, however, one remarkable dissimilarity, for which our previous observations on the nature of glaciers will have prepared the reader. From one bank to the other, the surface of a river is always horizontal, but that of a glacier is slightly convex.

Through the narrow glen, or ravine, formed by this curvature of the glacier, a kind of lateral trough or gully, bounded by the escarpment of the soil, we reach the sea. The descent is not without its dangers, for at every point crevasses open, separated by slippery projections. These deep gashes, at some points, are only a few yards apart; and they incessantly cross each other, and run into one another, so as to form a perfect labyrinth, in the windings of which the adventurous traveller is apt to feel bewildered.

The border of the glacier once crossed, the way becomes less difficult; for a mile and a half the level is almost perfect, and the ice but little broken up. The frozen desert, however, impresses us with an almost solemn feeling, and there is something terrible in the desolation of such a Sahara of snow!

Moreover, the traveller is irresistibly affected by the continual roar or growling of the enormous mass, which seems to stir and shake under our very feet. He would not be surprised if a vast chasm suddenly yawned before him! These harsh deep voices of the glacier, however, are not the only sounds we hear. On every side rises the murmur of brooks which trace their furrows across the crystalline plain. Some of these gradually converge, and, uniting, form a considerable torrent, which leaps with a clang from icy crag to icy ledge, until it is lost in a crevasse, or precipitated over the frozen cliff into the waters of the fiord. The solitude of the scene is complete, but not the silence. The air is as full of “noises” as ever was Prospero’s isle.

Such are the principal features of the glacier of Sermiatsialik.

About ninety miles north-east of Rensselaer Bay lies the great Humboldt Glacier, which seems to serve as a connecting-link between the Old World and the New.

It lies between the 79th and 80th parallels north, and between the 64th and 65th meridians west, skirting the shore of Peabody Bay, which is a bold indentation of the east coast of Kane Sea.

It was discovered in Dr. Kane’s expedition, and is probably one of the grandest spectacles in the Arctic world. Dr. Kane acknowledges himself unable to do justice to its magnificent aspect. He can speak only of its “long, ever-shining line of cliff diminished to a well-pointed wedge in the perspective;” of its “face of glistening ice, sweeping in a long curve from the low interior, the facets in front intensely illuminated by the sun.”

This line of cliff rises, like a solid wall of glass, three hundred feet above the water-level, with an unknown, unfathomable depth below it; and its curved face, sixty miles in length, disappears into unknown space at not more than a single day’s railroad-travel from the Pole. The interior with which it communicates, and from which it issues, is an unexplored mer de glace, an ice-ocean, of apparently boundless dimensions.

Such is the “mighty crystal bridge” which connects the two continents of America and Greenland. We say, continents; for Greenland, as Dr. Kane remarks, however insulated it may ultimately prove to be, is in mass strictly continental. Its least possible axis, measured from Cape Farewell to the line of the Humboldt Glacier, in the neighbourhood of the 80th parallel, gives a length of upwards of twelve hundred miles,—not materially less than that of Australia from its northern to its southern cape.

Imagine the centre of such a continent, says Dr. Kane, occupied through nearly its whole extent by a deep, unbroken sea of ice, that gathers perennial increase from the watershed of vast snow-covered mountains and all the precipitations of the atmosphere upon its own surface. Imagine this, moving onward like a great glacial river, seeking outlets at every fiord and valley, rolling icy cataracts into the Atlantic and Greenland seas; and, having at last reached the northern limit of the land that has borne it up, pouring out a mighty frozen torrent into unknown Arctic space.

“It is thus,” remarks Dr. Kane, “and only thus, that we must form a just conception of a phenomenon like this great glacier. I had looked in my own mind for such an appearance, should I ever be fortunate enough to reach the northern coast of Greenland. But now that it was before me, I could hardly realize it. I had recognized, in my quiet library at home, the beautiful analogies which Forbes and Studer have developed between the glacier and the river; but I could not comprehend at first this complete substitution of ice for water.

“It was slowly the conviction dawned on me that I was looking upon the counterpart of the great river-system of Arctic Asia and America. Yet here were no water-feeders from the south. Every particle of moisture had its origin within the Polar Circle, and had been converted into ice. There were no vast alluvions, no forest or animal traces borne down by liquid torrents. Here was a plastic, moving, semi-solid mass, obliterating life, swallowing rocks and islands, and ploughing its way with irresistible march through the crust of an investing sea.”

When, at a later period, Dr. Kane made a closer examination of this great natural wonder, he found that previously he had not realized the full grandeur of the spectacle. He noted that the trend of the glacier was a few degrees to the west of north; and he remarks, as the peculiarity of its aspect, that it did not indicate repose, but activity, energy, movement.

Its surface seemed to follow that of the basis-country over which it flowed. It was undulating on and about the horizon, but as it descended towards the sea it represented a broken plain with a general inclination of some nine degrees, still diminishing toward the foreground. Crevasses, which in the distance seemed like mere wrinkles, expanded as they came nearer, and were intersected almost at right angles by long continuous lines of fracture parallel with the face of the glacier.

These lines, too, scarcely perceptible in the far distance, widened as they approached the sea until they formed a gigantic stairway. It seemed as though the ice had lost its support below, and that the mass was let down from above in a series of steps; and such an action is the necessary result of the heat thrown out by the soil, the excessive surface-drainage, and the constant abrasion of the sea.

The indication of a great propelling agency seemed to be just commencing at the time that Dr. Kane visited the great glacier. The split-off lines of ice were evidently in motion, pressed on by those behind, but still broadening their fissures, as if the impelling action grew more and more energetic nearer the water, till at last they floated away in the form of icebergs. Long files of these detached masses might be seen, like the ranks of a stately armada, slowly sailing out into the remote sea, their separation marked by dark parallel shadows; broad and spacious avenues near the eye, but narrowed in the perspective to mere furrows. A more impressive illustration of the forces of nature it would be difficult to conceive.

Dr. Kane’s view of the formation of icebergs differs considerably from that which most physicists entertain.

He does not believe that the berg falls into the sea, broken by its weight from the parent glacier; he is of opinion that it rises from the sea. The process is at once gradual and comparatively quiet. “The idea of icebergs being discharged, so universal among systematic writers, seems to me at variance with the regulated and progressive actions of Nature. Developed by such a process, the thousands of bergs which throng the Polar seas should keep the air and water in perpetual commotion, one fearful succession of explosive detonations and propagated waves. But it is only the lesser masses falling into deep waters which could justify the popular opinion. The enormous masses of the great glacier are propelled, step by step and year by year, until, reaching water capable of supporting them, they are floated off to be lost in the temperatures of other regions.”

The Humboldt Glacier did not differ in structure from the Alpine and Norwegian ice-growths; and its face presented nearly all the characteristic features of the latter. The overflow, or viscous overlapping of the surface, was very strongly marked. “When close to the island rocks,” says Kane, “and looking out upon the upper table of the glacier, I was struck with the homely analogy of the batter-cake spreading itself out under the ladle of the housewife, the upper surface less affected by friction, and rolling forward in consequence.”

The crevasses bore the marks of direct fracture, as well as of the more gradual action of surface-drainage. The extensive watershed between their converging planes gave to the icy surface most of the hydrographic features of a river-system. The ice-born rivers which divided them were margined occasionally with spires of discoloured ice, and generally lost themselves in the central areas of the glacier before reaching its foreground. Occasionally, too, the face of the glacier was cut by vertical lines, which, as in the Alpine examples, were evidently outlets for the surface drainage.

The height of this ice-wall at the nearest point was about three hundred feet, measured from the water’s edge; and the unbroken right line of its diminishing perspective showed that this might be regarded as its constant measurement. It seemed, in fact, a great icy table-land, abutting with a clean precipice against the sea. This, indeed, is the great characteristic of all those Arctic glaciers which issue from central reservoirs or mers de glace upon the fiords or bays, and is strikingly in contrast with the dependent or hanging glacier of the ravines, where every line and furrow and chasm seem to indicate the movement of descent and the mechanical disturbances which have impeded and delayed it.

Dr. Kane named this monster glacier after Alexander Von Humboldt, to whose labours Physical Science is so largely indebted; and the cape which flanks it on the Greenland coast after the distinguished naturalist, whom the world has so recently lost, Professor Agassiz.

The point at which the Humboldt Glacier enters the “Land of Washington” affords even at a distance very clear indications of its plastic or semi-solid character. The observer finds it impossible to resist the impression of fluidity conveyed by its peculiar markings. Dr. Kane very appropriately named it Cape Forbes, in honour of the illustrious son of Scotia who contributed so largely to our true knowledge of the structure and mode of progression of glaciers.

As the surface of the glacier, adds its discoverer, receded to the south, its face seemed broken with piles of earth and rock-stained rubbish, until far back in the interior it was concealed from view by the slope of a hill. But even beyond this point its continued extension was shown by the white glare or ice-blink in the sky above.

Its outline to the northward could not be so easily traced, on account of the enormous discharges at its base. The talus of its descent from the interior, looking far off to the east, ranged from 7° to 15°; so interrupted by the crevasses, however, as only in the distance to produce the effect of an inclined plane. A few black protuberances rose above the glittering surface of the snow, like islands in a foamy sea.

It could be seen, from the general inequalities of its surface, how well the huge mass adapted itself to the inequalities of the basis-country beneath. The same modifications of hill and dale were discernible as upon land. Thus grand and various in its imposing aspect, it stretches to the north until it touches the new Land of Washington, cementing together by an apparently indissoluble tie the Greenland of the Norse Vikings and the America of the Anglo-Saxon colonists.