The main lateral moraines that extend from the jaws of the amphitheater into the Illilouette Basin are continued in straggling masses along the walls of the amphitheater, while separate boulders, hundreds of tons in weight, are left stranded here and there out in the middle of the channel.  Here, also, I observed a series of small terminal moraines ranged along the south wall of the amphitheater, corresponding in size and form with the shadows cast by the highest portions.  The meaning of this correspondence between moraines and shadows was afterward made plain.  Tracing the stream back to the last of its chain of lakelets, I noticed a deposit of fine gray mud on the bottom except where the force of the entering current had prevented its settling.  It looked like the mud worn from a grindstone, and I at once suspected its glacial origin, for the stream that was carrying it came gurgling out of the base of a raw moraine that seemed in process of formation.  Not a plant or weather-stain was visible on its rough, unsettled surface.  It is from 60 to over 100 feet high, and plunges forward at an angle of 38 deg..  Cautiously picking my way, I gained the top of the moraine and was delighted to see a small but well characterized glacier swooping down from the gloomy precipices of Black Mountain in a finely graduated curve to the moraine on which I stood.  The compact ice appeared on all the lower portions of the glacier, though gray with dirt and stones embedded in it.  Farther up the ice disappeared beneath coarse granulated snow.  The surface of the glacier was further characterized by dirt bands and the outcropping edges of the blue veins, showing the laminated structure of the ice.  The uppermost crevasse, or “bergschrund,” where the neve was attached to the mountain, was from 12 to 14 feet wide, and was bridged in a few places by the remains of snow avalanches.  Creeping along the edge of the schrund, holding on with benumbed fingers, I discovered clear sections where the bedded structure was beautifully revealed.  The surface snow, though sprinkled with stones shot down from the cliffs, was in some places almost pure, gradually becoming crystalline and changing to whitish porous ice of different shades of color, and this again changing at a depth of 20 or 30 feet to blue ice, some of the ribbon-like bands of which were nearly pure, and blended with the paler bands in the most gradual and delicate manner imaginable.  A series of rugged zigzags enabled me to make my way down into the weird under-world of the crevasse.  Its chambered hollows were hung with a multitude of clustered icicles, amid which pale, subdued light pulsed and shimmered with indescribable loveliness.  Water dripped and tinkled overhead, and from far below came strange, solemn murmurings from currents that were feeling their way through veins and fissures in the dark.  The chambers of a glacier are perfectly enchanting, notwithstanding one feels out of place in their frosty beauty.  I was soon cold in my shirt-sleeves, and the leaning wall threatened to engulf me; yet it was hard to leave the delicious music of the water and the lovely light.  Coming again to the surface, I noticed boulders of every size on their journeys to the terminal moraine—­journeys of more than a hundred years, without a single stop, night or day, winter or summer.