{114} The sides of Blossom island are rough and precipitous. The glaciers flowing past it cut away the rocks and, as the surface of the ice-fields was lowered, left them in many places in rugged cliffs bare of vegetation. The top of the island was also formerly glaciated and in part covered with débris; but the ice retreated so long ago that the once desolate surface has become clothed in verdure. Everywhere there are dense growths of flowers, ferns and berry bushes. On the rocky spurs, thrifty spruce trees, festooned with drooping streamers, shelter luxuriant banks of mosses, lichens and ferns. There was no evidence that human hand had ever plucked a flower in that luxuriant garden; not a trace could be found of man's previous invasion. The only trails were those left by the bears in forcing their way through the dense vegetation in quest of succulent roots. Later in the season, when the berries ripened, there was a feast spread invitingly for all who chose to partake. On the warm summer days the air was filled with the perfume of the flowers, birds flitted in and out of the shady grove, and insects hummed in the glad sunlight; the freshness and beauty on every hand made this island seem a little Eden, preserved with all its freshness and fragrance from the destroying hand of man. This oasis in a desert of ice is so beautiful and displays so many instructive and attractive features that I wish the reader to come with me up the flowery slopes and study the interesting pictures to be seen from its summit.