50 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



spiritual white of the rocks and glaciers. Down 

 through the midst, the young Tuolumne was seen 

 pouring from its crystal fountains, now resting in 

 glassy pools as if changing back again into ice, now 

 leaping in white cascades as if turning to snow; 

 gliding right and left between granite bosses, then 

 sweeping on through the smooth, meadowy levels 

 of the valley, swaying pensively from side to side 

 with calm, stately gestures past dipping willows and 

 sedges, and around groves of arrowy pine; and 

 throughout its whole eventful course, whether flow 

 ing fast or slow, singing loud or low, ever filling the 

 landscape with spiritual animation, and manifesting 

 the grandeur of its sources in every movement and 

 tone. 



Pursuing my lonely way down the valley, I turned 

 again and again to gaze on the glorious picture, 

 throwing up my arms to inclose it as in a frame. 

 After long ages of growth" in the darkness beneath 

 the glaciers, through sunshine and storms, it seemed 

 now to be ready and waiting for the elected artist, 

 like yellow wheat for the reaper; and I could not 

 help wishing that I might carry colors and brushes 

 with me on my travels, and learn to paint. In the 

 mean time I had to be content with photographs on 

 my mind and sketches in my note-books. At length, 

 after I had rounded a precipitous headland that 

 puts out from the west wall of the valley, every 

 peak vanished from sight, and I pushed rapidly 

 along the frozen meadows, over the divide between 

 the waters of the Merced and Tuolumne, and down 

 through the forests that clothe the slopes of Cloud's 

 Eest, arriving in Yosemite in due time which, 



