Reflections of a Trip to Llewellyn Glacier
By L. C. Read of Atlin, B.C.

On August 10, 1918, I made a trip to Llewellyn Glacier and
up on the south peak of Mussen Mountain, where I made a pan-
oramic view of the ice that may be of scientific value to those
who are studying the movement of glacial ice and medial moraines.

When I first stood on the mountain side, far above the great
expanse of ice shown in this view which embraces nearly one-
half of the whole glacial region, which is some seventy-five by
fifty miles in extent at a conservative estimate—I wondered if |
were really living in the twentieth century or in the great ice age
of many thousands of years ago; fancied that a similar scene

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Another View of Sawtooth Mountains

might have been obtained in the valley of the St. Lawrence or the
Hudson at that time; half expected to see a specimen of the Pilt-
down man, with bearskin over his shoulders and club in hand,
step out upon the scene with a look of fear and amazement at
the appearance of his, perhaps, hundredth-thousandth grand-
child, while I, with none the less surprise and astonishment,
would look upon my ancestor of thousands of generations. |

I would extend my hands toward him. He might drop his
club and hesitatingly approach me and murmur in language hun-
dreds of centuries dead, “‘Grandson.’’ Our hands might clasp—
the dim past and distant future before us both, though so remotely
separated by time. What could he not tell me of the past—what
I not tell him, show him, of the future?

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A pebble falling from the cliff above me ended the dream.
The instincts of the hunter, descended to me from the now dis-
sipated vision, caused me to look upward. There upon the highest
crag above stood out, with lordly mein, against the sky, a beauti-
ful specimen of oreamnos montanus in curly coat of spotless white,
and with polished ebony horns-@a most dignified, contemplative
and apparently appreciative admirer of the scene that had capti-

| vated me. He was looking over the great expanse of ice and

mountain with an air of complaisant ownership, with no one to
dispute his title.

I thought of the rifle at my side, but with no notion of reach-
ing for it. Had} the shade of the Piltdown man directed this

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