232 Musings by Camp-Fire and Wayside 



truly, that we think in words. The silence one 

 preserves and desires is wished for because language 

 is irrelevant and becomes an annoyance. At its 

 best it is not only an understatement, but we may 

 say a misstatement, because it does not and cannot 

 represent the mind. Does not this show that we 

 underrate our own capacities? That we are consti- 

 tuted and constructed in a larger mold than is usual 

 in this world and in this state of existence? That 

 we are much greater beings than we are accustomed 

 to estimate ourselves and others? I remember to 

 have heard my father say that a redeemed soul 

 would be a great and glorious being. As we can rise 

 to the height of the beauty and majesty of the 

 mountain, easily, naturally, and without effort, we 

 may infer that there is no limit to our capacity for 

 the appreciation and enjoyment of the glories of 

 God and of the works of his hand. 



I knew so little of the outlines of our continent 

 that I was surprised to learn that we were sailing 

 northeast, and that we would ascend some three 

 hundred and fifty miles in latitude beyond the 

 Alaskan peninsula. This comes of observing the 

 map as it appears on a globe or globular projec- 

 tion. The western coast, then, seems to ascend in 

 a northwesterly direction, whereas it sweeps far to 

 the north and descends again at the west. I spoke 

 in my last of the delightsomeness of the drinking- 

 water. In developing my plates at random, I came 

 upon the "Silver Bow." I tried to get closer to 



