A KEVEEIE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 191 



in the early morning hung about the ravines, 

 and partially veiled the peaks and angles of the 

 vast piles of rocks, had vanished, revealing them 

 in all their immensity. Below me was a lake, 

 smooth as a mirror, but the dark-green cold 

 look of the water hinted at unfathomable depth. 

 Tiny rivulets, fed by the snow, wound their 

 way, like threads of silver, between the rocks 

 and through the grass, to reach the lake 



I was not so much impressed with the beauty 

 of the landscape, as awed by its substantial mag- 

 nificence. Few living things were to be seen 

 save a group of ptarmigan, sunning themselves 

 on a ledge of rocks, a couple of mountain-goats 

 browsing by the lake, and a few grey-crowned 

 linnets, birds seldom seen but at great alti- 

 tudes. There were also the recent traces of a 

 grizzly, or black bear, that had been munching 

 down the wild angelica. A solemn stillness 

 intensified the slightest sound to a supernatural 

 loudness even a loosened stone rattling down 

 the hillside made me start ; there was no buzz 

 and hum of busy insects, or chirp of birds, or 

 splash of torrents, to break the silence ; the very 

 wind seemed afraid to moan: it was deathlike 

 silence to the very letter. 



As I smoked away, silent as all about me, sud- 



