20 JUNE IN FRANCONIA. 
no other help than an opera-glass! It was 
almost past belief. I had felt some dilation 
of soul, it was true, but had been quite 
unconscious of any corresponding physical 
transformation. What would our aboriginal 
forerunners have said could they have stood 
in the valley and seen a human form moving 
from point to point along yonder sharp, 
serrated ridge? I should certainly have 
passed fora god! Let us be thankful that 
all such superstitious fancies have had their 
day. The Indian, poor child of nature, 
“A pagan suckled in a creed outworn,” 
stood afar off and worshiped toward these 
holy hills; but the white man clambers 
gayly up their sides, guide-book in hand, 
and leaves his sardine box and eggshells — 
and likely enough his business card — at the 
top. Let us be thankful, I repeat, for the 
light vouchsafed to us; ours is a goodly her- 
itage; but there are moods — such creatures 
of hereditary influence are we — wherein I 
would gladly exchange both the guide-book 
and the sardine box for a vision, never so 
indistinct and transient, of Kitche Manitoo. 
Alas! what a long time it is since any of us 
