ing around one side of it, which
was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred feet.

Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded
in getting over it, and, when I reached the top, found my companions in
a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in
a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit, and another
step would have precipitated me into an immense snow field, five hundred
feet below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and
then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until
it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest,
about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20 deg. N., 51 deg. E.
As soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity, I descended,
and each man ascended in his turn; for I would only allow one at a time
to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which, it seemed, a breath
would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow of
the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national
flag to wave in the breeze, where flag never waved before.

[Illustration: OUR FLAG ON THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.]

During our morning's ascent, we had met no sign of animal life, except
a small sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most profound, and a terrible
solitude, forced themselves constantly on the mind as the great features
of the place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness was absolute,
unbroken by any sound, and solitude complete, we thought ourselves
beyond the region of animated life; but, while we were sitting on the
rock, a solitary bee (_bromus, the humble-bee_) came winging his flight
from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.

It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky
mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers; and we pleased
ourselves with the idea that he was the first of his species to cross
the mountain barrier--a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of
civilization. I believe that a moment's thought would have made us let
him continue his way unharmed; but we carried out the law of this
country, where all animated nature seems at war; and, seizing him
immediately, put him in at least a fit place--in the leaves of a large
book, among the flowers we had collected on our way.

RUNNING THE CANON.

Col. Fremont, in his narrative, gives the following accoun