The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 87, January, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
General
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 87, January, 1865: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
Early this evening we entered between bold cliffs into Square Island
Harbor, latitude about 53 deg.. It is a deep and deeply sheltered dog's
hole,--dogs and dirt could make it such,--but overhung by purple hills,
which proved, on subsequent inspection, to be largely composed of an
impure labradorite. Labradorite, the reader may know, is a crystallized
feldspar, with traces of other minerals. In its pure state it is
opalescent, exhibiting vivid gleams of blue, green, gold, and
copper-color, and, more rarely, of rose,--and is then, and deservedly,
reckoned a precious stone. The general character of the rock here is
sienitic; but, besides this peculiar quality of feldspar, the hornblende
appears as actinolite, (ray-stone,) so called from the form of its
crystallization; while the quartz element is faintly present, or appears
in separate masses. The purple of the hills is due not only to the
labradorite, which has that as a stable color, but also to a purple
lichen, which clothes much of the rock on this coast. I found also fine
masses of mica imbedded in quartz, edge upwards, and so compact that
its lamination was not perceptible. Indeed, I did not, with my novice
eyes, immediately recognize it, for it appeared a handsome
copper-colored rock, projecting slightly from the quartz, as if more
enduring.
Next day there was trouting, with a little, and but a little, better
than the usual minnow result.
And on the next, the floe-ice poured in and packed the harbor like a box
of sardines. The scene became utterly Arctic,--rock above, and ice
below. Rock, ice, and three imprisoned ships; which last, in their
helpless isolation, gave less the sense of companionship than of a
triple solitude. And when next day, Sunday, the third day of July, I
walked ashore on the ice with a hundred feet of water beneath, summer
seemed a worn-out tradition, and one felt that the frozen North had gone
out over the world as to a lawful inheritance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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