STEEP TRAILS 



While standing at their feet, the other day, 

 shortly after my memorable excursion among 

 the salt waves of the lake, I said: &quot;Now I shall 

 have another baptism. I will bathe in the high 

 sky, among cool wind-waves from the snow/ 

 From the more southerly of the two peaks a 

 long ridge comes down, bent like a bow, one 

 end in the hot plains, the other in the snow of 

 the summit. After carefully scanning the jag 

 ged towers and battlements with which it is 

 roughened, I determined to make it my way, 

 though it presented but a feeble advertisement 

 of its floral wealth. This apparent barrenness, 

 however, made no great objection just then, 

 for I was scarce hoping for flowers, old or new, 

 or even for fine scenery. I wanted in particular 

 to learn what the Oquirrh rocks were made of, 

 what trees composed the curious patches of 

 forest; and, perhaps more than all, I was ani 

 mated by a mountaineer s eagerness to get my 

 feet into the snow once more, and my head 

 into the clear sky, after lying dormant all 

 winter at the level of the sea. 



But in every walk with Nature one receives 

 far more than he seeks. I had not gone more 

 than a mile from Lake Point ere I found the 

 way profusely decked with flowers, mostly 

 composite and purple leguminosae, a hundred 

 corollas or more to the square yard, with a 



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