204 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE“ CHAP. 
Even now as I write comes back to me the 
bright vision of an Alpine valley—blue sky 
above, glittering snow, bare grey or rich red 
rock, dark pines here and there, mixed with 
- bright green larches, then patches of smooth 
alp, with clumps of birch and beech, and dotted 
with brown chalets; then belowthem rock again, 
and wood, but this time with more deciduous 
trees; and then the valley itself, with emer- 
ald meadows, interspersed with alder copses, 
threaded together by a silver stream; and I 
almost fancy I can hear the tinkling of distant 
cowbells coming down from the alp, and the 
delicious murmur of the rushing water. The 
endless variety, the sense of repose and yet of 
power, the dignity of age, the energy of youth, 
the play of colour, the beauty of form, the 
mystery of their origin, all combine to invest 
mountains with a solemn beauty. 
I feel with Ruskin that “‘ mountains are the 
beginning and the end of all natural scenery ; 
in them, and in the forms of inferior landscape 
that lead to them, my affections are wholly 
bound up; and though I can look with happy 
admiration at the lowland flowers, and woods, 
