The ice-sea is the great reservoir of ice which covers the interior of Greenland, and the glacier of the fiord of Sermitsialik is but a branch—a stream—that descends from it through the valley to the fiord. It is one of many hundreds of similar streams which are to be seen upon the Greenland coast, and by which the precipitations from the atmosphere are discharged into the ocean. They correspond to the rivers of other lands. These precipitations are in the form of snow. The air, which dispenses heat and cold, drought and moisture, life and death to the uttermost ends of the earth, is not neglectful of Greenland. The air soaks up the vapor from the sea, and drops it as snow-flakes upon the sides and summits of the Greenland mountains. These snow-flakes harden to ice, and the process goes on until the mountains are covered, as Mont Blanc of the Alps is covered, and the ice flowing down their sides has filled the lower lands between them. In many places this process has so long continued, that the valleys between the mountains here and there have become level with the summits of the mountains themselves, and there is a desert waste of whiteness, smooth almost as the sea, as void of life as Sahara, and more dreary to look upon. I ascended once to such a level plane, reaching eighty miles from the coast, at an altitude of five thousand feet. This ascent was upon the glacier, at an angle, when I first set out, of about six degrees with the horizon; but afterwards, upon the _mer de glace_, it was by a scarcely perceptible acclivity. Unhappily I was set upon by a tempest. The temperature sank to thirty-four degrees below zero, having steadily fallen to that point as I climbed higher and higher in the air. Nothing could possibly be more terrible than a wind under such conditions, except, perhaps, a furnace-blast. Mercury hardened almost to the consistency of lead. The moisture of the breath froze on the beard in solid lumps of ice. The nose and cheeks grew white, and life was in danger. The drifting snow which came whirling along the icy plain was like the sand-clouds of the desert, which oftentimes overwhelm travellers. There was no chance for life except in flight. I was accompanied by five persons, who were all less accustomed to such exposure than myself. We turned our backs to the wind, and descended as rapidly as possible to the level of the sea, where the temperature was zero, at which degree of cold life is supported without inconvenience.