Hail, rain, sleet, snow, fog, and every form of bad weather continued for a week on the summit, while it was almost always clear below. It was often a remarkable sight to go to the edge and look down. The expanse of “the plains,” which stretched eastward to a horizon line over a hundred miles distant, would be in bright sunshine beneath, while the hail was all around and above us; and the light coming _up_ instead of down gave singular effects when the clouds parted below, the plains seeming at such times to be opalescent with luminous yellow and green, as though the lower world were translucent, and the sun were beneath it and shining up through. Fig. 39 is a picture of three of us on the mountain-top, who saw a rarer spectacle; for directly opposite the setting sun, and on the mist over the gulf beyond us, was a bright ring, in whose centre were three phantom images of our three selves, which moved as we moved, and then faded as the sun sank. It was “the spectre of the Brocken.” These ghostly presentments were tolerably defined, as in the sketch, but did not seem to be gigantic, as some have described them. We rather thought them close at hand; but before we could determine, the vision faded. The clouds, to our good fortune, rolled away on the 29th; and a number of pleasure-seekers, who came up to view the eclipse and the unwonted bright sunshine, made a scene which it was hard to identify with the usual one. This time my business was to draw the corona; and the extreme altitude and the clearness of the air, with perhaps some greater extension than usual in the object itself, enabled it to be followed to an unprecedented distance. During totality the sun was surrounded by a narrow ring--hardly more than a line--of vivid light, presenting no structure to the naked eye (but a remarkable one in the telescope); and this faded with great suddenness into a circular nebulous luminosity between two and three diameters of the sun wide, but without such marked plumes, or filaments, as I had seen in 1869. The most extraordinary thing, however, was a beam of light, inclined at an angle of about forty-five degrees, about as wide as the sun, and extending to the distance of nearly six of its diameters on one side and over twelve on the other; on one side alone, that is, to the amazing distance of over ten million miles from its body. Substantially the same observation was made, as it appeared later, by Professor Newcomb, at a lower level. The direction, when more carefully measured, it was interesting to note, coincided closely with that of the Zodiacal light, and a faint central rib added to its resemblance to that body. It is noteworthy, in illustration of what has already been said as to the conflict of ocular testimony, that though I, with the great majority of observers below, saw only this beam, two witnesses whose evidence is unimpeachable, Professors Young and Abbe, saw a pale beam