the scene was one of the most desolate i ever beheld but the darkest of the mountains are with bright passages of love the mountains op that never fail to make themselves felt when one is alone i made my bed in a nook of the pine thicket where the branches were pressed and overhead like a roof and bent down around the sides these are the best the high mountains afford � snug as nests well full of and with plenty of wind played needles to sing one asleep i little expected company but creeping in through a low side door i found five or six birds among the the night wind began to blow soon after dark at first only a gentle breathing but increasing toward midnight to a rough gale that fell upon my leafy roof in ragged like a bearing wild sounds from the overhead the sang in chorus filling the old ice fountain with its solemn roar and seeming to increase in power as the night advanced � fit voice for such a landscape i had to creep out many times to the fire during the night for it was biting cold and i had no blankets gladly i welcomed the morning star the dawn in the dry wavering air of the desert was glorious everything encouraged my undertaking and success there was no cloud in the sky no storm tone in the wind breakfast of bread and tea was soon made i fastened a hard crust to my belt by way of provision in case i should be compelled to pass a night on the mountain top then securing the remainder of my little stock against wolves and wood rats i set forth free and hopeful how glorious a greeting the sun gives the a near view of the high to behold this alone is worth the pains of any excursion a thousand times over the highest peaks burned like islands in a sea of liquid shade then the lower peaks and caught the glow and long of light streaming through many a and pass fell thick on the frozen meadows the majestic form of was full in sight and i pushed rapidly on over rounded rock and my iron shod shoes making a sound suddenly hushed now and then in of and lake soft as moss here too in this so called land of desolation i met growing in among the battered rocks her blossoms had faded long ago but they were still clinging with happy memories to the and still so beautiful as to thrill every of one s being winter and summer you may hear her voice the low sweet melody of her purple bells no among all the mountain plants speaks nature s love more plainly than where she dwells the of the solitude is complete the very rocks and seem to feel her presence and become with her own fountain sweetness all things were warming and awakening frozen began to flow the came out of their nests in piles and climbed sunny rocks to and the headed were flitting about seeking their the lakes seen from every ridge top were brilliantly and like the of the low dwarf pines the rocks too seemed to the vital heat � rock and snow thrill the mountains of ing alike i strode on as if never more to feel fatigue limbs moving of themselves every sense like the flowers to take part in the new day harmony all along my course thus far excepting when down in the the were mostly open to me and at least on one side on the left were the purple plains of and warm on the right the near peaks springing keenly into the thin sky with more and more impressive but these larger views were at length lost rugged spurs and and huge projecting began to shut me in every feature became more rigidly without however producing any effect for going to the mountains is like going home we always find that the strangest objects in these fountain re in some degree familiar and we look upon them with a vague sense of having seen them before on the southern shore of a frozen lake i encountered an extensive field pf hard snow up which i in fine tone intending to follow it to its head and cross the rocky spur against which it hoping thus to come direct upon the base of the main bitter peak the surface was with oval hollows made by stones and drifted pine needles that had melted themselves into the mass by the of absorbed sun heat these afforded good but the surface curved more and more at the head and the became and less abundant until i found myself in danger of being a view of the high shed off like snow i persisted however creeping on all and shuffling up the places on my back as i had often done on granite until after slipping several times i was compelled to my course to the bottom and make my way around the west end of the lake and thence up to the summit of the divide between the head waters of rush greek and the of the san arriving on the summit of this dividing crest one of the most exciting pieces of pure wilderness was disclosed that i ever discovered in all my there immediately in front loomed the majestic mass of mount bitter with a down its face nearly to my f then westward and pouring its frozen flood into a dark blue lake whose shores wore bound with of snow while a deep chasm drawn between the divide and the separated the massive picture from everything else i could see only the one sublime mountain the one the one lake the whole veiled with one blue shadow � rock ice and water close together without a single leaf or sign of life after gazing 