From Pyramid Harbor we turn southward for a short distance, and then again towards the north, soon reaching the ice-strewn waters of Glacier Bay, an open expanse of ocean fully thirty miles long by from ten to twelve in width. This locality is thus named because of the number of glaciers which descend into it from the southern verge of the frozen region. The still surface of the water reflects the Alpine scenery like burnished silver, only ruffled now and again by the icebergs launched from the majestic front of the Muir glacier, which fall with an explosion like the blasting of rocks in a stone quarry. It is curious to watch these enormous masses of ice rise to the surface after their first deep plunge, see them settle and rise again until their equilibrium becomes fixed, and then slowly float away with their imperial colors displayed, to join the fleet gone before. They seem to exhibit in their vivid colors a radiant joy at release from long imprisonment. It was a gloriously bright day on which we approached the Muir glacier, the sun pouring down its wealth of light and warmth to temper the crisp morning air. A side-wheel steamer could not have made headway among the hundreds of floating icebergs; but the Corona wound in and out among them in safety, piloted by Captain Carroll’s skillful direction, occasionally leaving the color of her painted hull along their sides by chafing them. The ship was brought within fifty rods of the glacier’s threatening front, which was about three hundred feet in height above the water, standing like a frozen Niagara, and the lead showed it to extend four hundred feet below the surface, making an aggregate of seven hundred feet from top to bottom. What a mighty power was hidden behind the dazzling drapery of its iridescent façade! Standing upon its surface a short way inland, one could hear from its depths what seemed like shrieks and groans of maddened spirits torturing each other, as the huge mass was crowded more and more compactly between the two abutting mountains of rock through which it found its outlet. The roar of artillery upon a battlefield could hardly be more deafening or incessant than were the thrilling reports caused by the falling of vast masses of ice from the glacier’s front. Nothing could be grander or more impressive than this steady bombardment from the ice mountain in its resistless progress towards the sea. Neither Norway nor Switzerland have any glacial or arctic scenery that can approach this bay in its frigid splendor. No natives are to be seen; not a sound falls upon the ear save the hoarse cannonading of the glacier. The white, ghostly hue of the surroundings are startling; even the daylight assumes a certain weird, bluish tint, heightened by shimmering reflections from the ice-chasms and crevices.