The surface of the glacier curves gently upward from side to side. It does not blend with the slope of the mountain, but, breaking off abruptly, forms, as I have before observed, a deep gorge between the land and the ice. This gorge is interrupted in places by immense boulders which have fallen from the cliffs, or by equally large masses of ice which have broken from the glacier. Sometimes, however, these interruptions are of a different character, when the ice, moving bodily forward, has pushed the rocks up the hill-side in a confused wave. [Sidenote: CLIMBING THE GLACIER.] The traveling along this winding gorge was laborious, especially as the snow-crusts sometimes gave way and let one's legs down between the sharp stones, or equally sharp ice; but a couple of miles brought us to a place where we could mount by using our axe in cutting steps, as Sonntag had done before. We were now fairly on the glacier's back, and moved cautiously toward its centre, fearful at every step that a fissure might open under our feet, and let us down between its hard ribs. But no such accident happened, and we reached our destination, where the surface was perfectly smooth--an inclined plain of clear, transparent ice. [Sidenote: SURVEYING THE GLACIER.] Our object in this journey was chiefly to determine whether the glacier had movement; and for this purpose we followed the very simple and efficient plan of Professor Agassiz in his Alpine surveys. First we placed two stakes in the axis of the glacier, and carefully measured the distance between them; then we planted two other stakes nearly midway between these and the sides of the glacier; and then we set the theodolite over each of these stakes in succession, and connected them by angles with each other and with fixed objects on the mountain-side. These angles will be repeated next spring, and I shall by this means know whether the glacier is moving down the valley, and at what rate. On this, as on every other occasion when we have attempted to do any thing requiring carefulness and deliberation, the wind came to embarrass us. The temperature alone gives us little concern. Although it may be any number of degrees below zero, we do not mind it, for we have become accustomed to it; but the wind is a serious inconvenience, especially when our occupations, as in the present instance, do not admit of active exercise. It is rather cold work handling the instrument; but the tangent screws have been covered with buckskin, and we thus save our fingers from being "burnt," as our little freezings are quite significantly called. I purpose making a still further exploration of this glacier to-morrow, and will defer until then any further description of it.