News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1903-04-22
IN THE MOONLIGHT.

A glory like unto the glory OF para
disc is to watch the shadows as they
lie under the light of the moon. The
forms below seem hushed in peace
and the old Canyon sleeps and dreams.
1t possesses peculiar fascination for
every visitor when In the witchery of
the night the infinite hush is over all
and it lies in dreamful slumber, pure,
white and still as a nun at prayers.
Down in that empire of night the pa
ralysis of the beauty holds you, and
wound about you, the hypnotism OF
wonder takes you captive. You think
you will break loose from the Canyon
after the purple shadows and the
darkness but the moon revives in
silver forms all that you have seen
before as in their sleep these forms of
the deep brood on things eternal.
Softly you leave it, a vision OF ulti-
mate beauty, that has fulfilled earth's
dream of rest after her work is done.
THE MORNING.
In the morning we went out to ver-
ify the vision of the night, to COM
pass earth's revelation of her soul.
Following along a quiet path so
sweet and still and sylvan and look
ing down. the Canyon seems to awak-
en- with the dawn. Through the rare
pellucid air came the arrows of the
morning sun, and as they pierced to
the heart this valley of night, it was
no longer a solitude but n pulsating,
living thing. Within the walls of the
gorge there seemed to dwell the soul of
beauty which caught and gave colors
that were the expression of divinest
thought as they spread like bushes.
Never on earth had We seen such glory
revealed. 1t did not seem like earth,
surely it was nothing man had fash
toned but more resembled that "City
CELESTIAL" the Prince of Builders hath
prepared for those that love him.
The strain of existence again becomes
tense; you leave the flesh to sail out
upon the purple immensities of the
air. A bird song welcomes you to
the infuite and at last the dream OF
life seems fulfilled,
''You take the wings of the morning,
You ride the chariot of the SUM-"
A MEMORY.
| love nature. She has not a mood
that does not wo me. To me real
life is found in breathing the pure, un-
smoked, unsmelling, unbacteria-laden
air, fresh from Gods mountain, for
est and Canyon laboratories. The
writer has seen much to summon
trail of holy memories. He has seen
the sun rise upon the angry Atlantic,
as it broke upon the rocks at Marble
head, and seen it sink in beauty be-
hind The Golden Gate" of the west,
where the peaceful Pacific luis in
gentle whispers the loving music of a
perfect lullaby. The rush of the cat
aract thrills me deeper than any
strain of music. | love to climb our
mountains, for truly they seem stair
wsys to the living God. And as for
rivers | have foated through the
mysterious echo chamber in Man,
moth Cave, when every stroke of the
paddle sounded like the tinkling of a
bell; and have sailed the silver Hud-
son, that ''Rhine of America" and
among the Thousand Islands of the
st. Lawrence, which are beyond the
dream of any fairylaud in the twilight
sky. | have seen the sun guild the
bluffs along the Mississippi and part
the mists above the cruel Colorado
in it's awful canyon home | have
crossed and recrossed the beautiful
Sacramento when every fading leaf
and river-moss was painted like a
fl over, and, tairer yet. have sailed the
Columbia with its background of
lofty mountains crowned with per-
petual snow. But my memory of the
Yellowstone, which God hath placed
in it's cany N home away in the heart
of the mountains where it starts on
it's strange, winding way to the sea,
fingers with me the most ideal vision
of natural beauty the world has OIL
fered. There | took my last look at
it's grandeur under spell that will
never be broKen. America has three
national preserves that are the won
ders OF the world, the Grand Canyon
of the Colorado, the Yosemite Valley
and the Yellowstone Park; these three,
but the greatest of these is the Park
Chronic Bnchltis Cured.
"For ten years | had chronic bron-
chjtis so bad that at times [ could