atmosphere itself, which, laden with moisture, became one mass of
color--a fine translucent purple haze in which the islands with
softened outlines seemed to float, while a dense red ring lay around
the base of each of them as a fitting border. The peaks, too, in the
distance, and the snow-fields and glaciers and fleecy rolls of mist
that lay in the hollows, were flushed with a deep, rosy alpenglow of
ineffable loveliness. Everything near and far, even the ship, was
comprehended in the glorious picture and the general color effect.
The mission divines we had aboard seemed then to be truly divine as
they gazed transfigured in the celestial glory. So also seemed our
bluff, storm-fighting old captain, and his tarry sailors and all.

About one third of the summer days I spent in the Wrangell region
were cloudy with very little or no rain, one third decidedly rainy,
and one third clear. According to a record kept here of a hundred
and forty-seven days beginning May 17 of that year, there were
sixty-five on which rain fell, forty-three cloudy with no rain, and
thirty-nine clear. In June rain fell on eighteen days, in July eight
days, in August fifteen days, in September twenty days. But on some
of these days there was only a few minutes' rain, light showers
scarce enough to count, while as a general thing the rain fell so
gently and the temperature was so mild, very few of them could be
called stormy or dismal; even the bleakest, most bedraggled of them
all usually had a flush of late or early color to cheer them, or some
white illumination about the noon hours. I never before saw so much
rain fall with so little noise. None of the summer winds make roaring
storms, and thunder is seldom heard. I heard none at all. This wet,
misty weather seems perfectly healthful. There is no mildew in the
houses, as far as I have seen, or any tendency toward mouldiness in
nooks hidden from the sun; and neither among the people nor the