two hundred steps in the ice, a task of which we relieved each other at frequent intervals. At the end of that time we were again able to take to the rocky ridge, and held to it for over an hour, when we were forced to resume our ice-chopping at the edge of the glacier, and for some time we alternated between ice steps and steep and dangerous scrambling over the loosened rocks on the side of the adjacent ridge.

Ten o'clock brought us to the top of the highest ridge, and to a view of the point of its junction with the vast mer de glâce that swept downward in an unbroken sheet from the summit of the mountain. Looking downward from here, the great Nisqually glacier appeared to be flowing directly below us, in a due southeast direction. The debris from the ridge on which we stood went down to meet it at an angle of nearly sixty degrees, occasionally breaking off in a sheer precipice, as the walls were exposed. The view in every direction was one of solitary grandeur. A halt was here called, and a consultation took place as to the route by which we should proceed. Van Trump could scarcely recognize his surroundings, on account of the great changes that had taken place in the face of the landscape since his first ascent, but was under the impression that we must descend, and get upon the edge of the glacier upon its western side. I was not in favor of this, feeling confident it was practicable for us to follow the ridge, and from its terminus reach the head of the glacier. We determined to proceed as we were going. Climbing over alternate ice and rocks, we finally came to a point where the ridge diminishes to a thin, crumbling knife edge, running squarely against a huge, perpendicular precipice of rock, rising grandly one thousand feet above our heads, and standing sharply out from the main bulk of the mountain, a mighty landmark, distinguishable for many miles in every direction.

Unless we could succeed in crawling around the face of this precipice, all further progress was at an end, as there were nothing but yawning chasms below us on either side of the knife ridge, reaching down hundreds of feet to glaciers on both sides; and

to have scaled the face of the wall in front of us would have been as useless as it was impossible, for we should have been on an isolated rock, from which we should have had to descend again to proceed on our way. To add to our discomfiture, while we were deliberating, an avalanche of stones and dirt came over the cliff from its top, covering the head of the glacier, and loosening from the foot of the cliff tons of debris, which went booming down the icy slopes with a sound like the roar of thunder.

Feeling responsible for having brought the party into this perilous situation against Van Trump's inclination, I ran ahead as fast as I could, crawling on all fours over the dizzy knife edge, till I came squarely up against the cliff, where, to my great joy, I found a narrow ledge some four feet wide, on the face of the cliff, apparently leading around to the head of the Nisqually glacier. I shouted for my companions to follow, as the way was clear, and without waiting for them, crept on along the ledge some two hundred feet, where I found progress barred by an immense icicle, which had formed from dripping water from the top of the cliff. When the others came up with the hatchet, we soon cut a hole through the icicle, and in ten minutes more of sharp work, clinging in mid air to the side of the cliff with fingers and toes, and painfully crawling past critical points of danger, we were at the head of the glacier, which here became a steep gutter of green ice.

We had barely congratulated ourselves upon having safely run the gauntlet, when another furious shower of stones came over the cliff, falling but a few feet behind us, while a few came directly down the ice gutter, warning us that the sooner we were out of that locality, the better would be our chances for preserving whole limbs. There was no way for it but to follow up the gutter of ice; and for three quarters of an hour we experienced the severest and most perilous work of the ascent. Let the reader imagine the shady side of the steepest gothic roof he has ever seen, covered with hard, slippery ice, unsoftened by the sun, and prolonged for hundreds of feet above, and thousands of feet below, and he will have a fair idea of

the situation. Every step had to be carefully selected and well chopped out of the ice. The consequences of a slip here may be readily imagined; it meant a swift slide of a thousand feet or more into the yawning jaws of a beautiful green and blue crevasse, which we had admired from the knife-edge ridge.

Laboriously and slowly carving our way up the gutter, at twelve o'clock we reached the broad stretch of billowy snow that swept unbroken to the summit, apparently within easy reach. For hours we had been looking forward to this snow-field, with pleasant anticipation of rest and relief from hard climbing. We expected to make rapid headway, and reckoned on skipping along to the summit in a few moments; but, on the contrary, we found it about the most fatiguing part of the day's work. The snow was frozen into icewaves, running across the face of the mountain, and resembled a heavy chop sea, solidified and set up at a considerable angle-the hollows being three feet deep, hard and slippery, and the crests so softened by the sun as to make sure footing impossible. Every few moments we would fall down into the hollows, thoroughly spent and exhausted, or by a mis-step would find ourselves forcibly seated astride the ridges. After a time, we tried a new method. The man in the lead would leap upon the crest of the snow ridge, and pack the snow with his feet before the others followed, and in this way we made better progress. Every few minutes the rear man would take his turn in the lead, and by a short period of extra exertion prepared the little platforms on the snow crests to give sure footing for the others to follow. Taking frequent pauses for rest, we finally surmounted this wearisome portion of our journey, and at three o'clock P. M. we stood upon the bare rim of the eastern crater of the middle summit, with the upper edge of the crater only a few hundred yards away, and about one hundred feet higher.

Thus far on our ascent, the mountain had sheltered us from a furious gale of wind blowing from the north, which here assailed us with such force that with the greatest difficulty we accomplished the remainder of the distance, and at 3.30 P. M. planted our

flag on the topmost crest, in the face of the bitterly cold blast.

The view was inexpressibly grand and comprehensive, although the whole landscape, below an altitude of five thousand feet, was swallowed up in a sea of vapor, leaving the higher mountains standing out like islands, as we had seen them the night before. An occasional gust of wind would tear open the veil for a few moments, exposing to momentary view the precipitous cañons and crags for thousands of feet down the mountain's sides. We seemed to be floating in a dark blue ocean, having no connection with the earth below, and the mountain appeared to rest gently upon its encompassing clouds.

The narrow ridge upon which we stood was the dividing line between two craters, nearly circular, opening out to the east and to the west, their rims inclining from each other at an angle of about fifteen degrees. The western crater, the larger of the two, was some four hundred yards in diameter, and filled with snow up to within sixty feet of its rocky edges. Occasional small jets of steam, issuing from the base of its ragged walls, gave evidence of former volcanic activity. We could look down into the other and slightly smaller crater, also, whose rocky walls, like those of its neighbor, stood out bare and distinct above the snow throughout their entire periphery. Jets of steam were rising from this one also at various places.

By the time we had explored both craters, another hour had passed, and all thought of descending the mountain that night had to be abandoned. Indeed, had we turned back the moment we reached the top, it would have been impossible, before the darkness overtook us, to pass under the perilous cliff, where even now we could see showers of stones flying down to the glacier below; and the attempt must have proven fatal. The only thing that could be done was to seek some sheltered nook, and pass the night as best we could.

To pass the time till dark, a suggestion. was made to scale the north peak of the mountain, about a mile away; but the steadily increasing wind admonished us that we had better not run the risk of being blown

over the narrow ridge by which lay our only path to the peak.

After a long search, Van Trump finally found the ice-cave where General Stevens and himself had found shelter for the night in 1870; but alas! the roof had melted away, leaving only a circular well in the ice some six or eight feet in depth, and about eighteen feet in diameter. From a small and irregular hole in the center issued a scalding jet of steam about the size of one's little finger, around which still remained the loose rocks piled up by the last tenants of this rude hostelry.

Rebuilding the low wall to enclose a space large enough for their bodies to lie in, Longmire and Van Trump stowed themselves away inside the wall and on either side of the steam jet; while with hatchet and alpenstock I leveled off the stones for a short path, some seven feet long, inside the cave, and prepared to pass the night pacing to and fro to keep from freezing, preferring this weary exercise to scalding myself with the steam, which had already saturated the clothing of my companions. It was a dreary outlook for the night, as the thermometer soon fell to twenty degrees Fahrenheit, and the wind howled, and roared, and poured down into our ice-walled cave, upon our unprotected heads, with a fury that made us long for the warm blankets we left in camp. I succeeded in keeping tolerably comfortable till midnight on my feet; but finally, overcome by drowsiness, and after repeated falls and bruises on the sharp rocks, was obliged to join my comrades around the "register."

Notwithstanding the discomfort and misery of our situation, one could not but take note of the weird beauty of the night, and the brilliant prismatic effects of the full moon, directly over our heads, shining from a cloudless sky upon the blue ice-walls of our cavern. Not even the ice-palace of Montreal, illuminated with myriads of electric lights, could rival in beauty the wonderful colors displayed in our fairy grotto by moonlight. The long night at last wore away, and by morning we were fairly cooked by the steam. We could face it but a few moments at a time, and when we turned around, our cloth

ing was instantly frozen to sheets of ice. The monotony and discomfort of this procedure may be imagined without further elaboration.

At six the next morning, August 17th, we shivered about the steam jet, and discussed plans for the descent. The thermometer indicated sixteen degrees, and the wind was blowing at the rate of one hundred miles an hour, and shifting to the southwest, with strong indications of snow. I make this statement of the velocity of the wind with some degree of positiveness, as I once walked up Mount Washington in the face of a gale that was registered at one hundred and five miles per hour when I reached the signal station at the summit, and I could therefore judge of the effects of such a gale.

Dreading a storm, we decided not to wait for the wind to subside, and at 7 A. M. left our friendly steam jet and started on the descent. Scarcely were we outside the cavern before our clothing was frozen solid, and we were hurled with great violence upon our faces. Staggering and crawling along upon our hands and feet, we managed to reach the western rim of the large crater, where we found a partial shelter from the force of the gale behind some large rocks, which allowed us to take our breath-but so benumbed with cold as to be scarcely able to grasp our alpenstocks. We discussed the route by which we should return to the east slope of the mountain. One favored crossing the large crater and scaling its opposite wall, but the terrible wind raked it fore and aft, and we must have perished in the attempt. While the others hesitated, I set the example, and, gathering all my strength, started at my best speed along the rim of the crater.

I had not gone one hundred feet before I fell among the rocks, completely exhausted and benumbed. The others followed. Longmire also fell heavily, receiving severe cuts and bruises before reaching me. We continued crawling along slowly and painfully, a few feet at a time, all the while clinging to the rocks for dear life, to prevent being blown away by the gale, until at 9 A. M. we got around sufficiently under the lee of the mountain to be out of the wind, and

one exception-the southern peak was not climbed, owing to lack of time the first day, and the furious gale blowing on the second, which prevented an attempt, had we been so disposed. That peak, I believe, is still virgin soil, and may tempt the ambition of some future climber. When one has once reached the middle peak, it is only a matter of two or three hours to ascend it, provided the wind is not blowing a hurricane, as we found it. It is undoubtedly inaccessible, except by way of the middle peak.

There are indications of abundant mountain sheep on Mount Tacoma. The party obtained a view of a flock of twenty-five or thirty of them on the ascent, a long way to their right, passing from the snow to a ridge of rock, from the high comb of which they paused to view the intruding climbers. The writer has often seen them on Mount Whitney and other Californian peaks, always at high altitudes, and of the same appearance as those of Tacoma, with large curved horns and shaggy coats, very shy and most difficult to approach. Their feeding grounds are below the snow line, and they only seek the higher snowfields and precipitous rocks to escape their natural enemies. No signs of them were seen on Tacoma higher than eleven thousand feet. Our uppermost camp on the mountain was about eleven thousand

feet above sea level, and was found to be the extreme limit of organic life. Among the rocks there was a little moss, a few blades of mountain grass, and a species of saxifrage; beyond this point not a vestige of animal or vegetable life, nor a fossil of either-nothing but igneous rocks, snow, and profound solitude. Since the time, ages gone by, that nature upheaved the mountain from the primal waters, the only living things the wastes of snow and rock there have known, are doubtless the few human beings who have planted weary feet upon its summit.

The achievement was a great satisfaction to all of us-to Van Trump, because it vindicated his former claims to the distinction, upon which doubts had been cast in the neighborhood; to Longmire, because it gave him renewed pride in his manly vigor which sixty winters of hardship had in no wise undermined; and to the writer, because he realized that all other mountain climbing in which he had indulged was as boys' play compared to the ascent of this-the king of all the mountains of the United States.

The name of Rainier is being gradually supplanted by the Indian appellation of Tacoma (pronounced Tachoma, with the German guttural sound to the ach), a name not only more appropriate on account of its antiquity, but to be preferred on account of its euphony. George Bailey.

Charles Warren Stoddard.