A NEAR VIEW OF THE HIGH SIERRA 59 



tains ! To behold this alone is worth the pains of 

 any excursion a thousand times over. The highest 

 peaks burned like islands in a sea of liquid shade. 

 Then the lower peaks and spires caught the glow, 

 and long lances of light, streaming through many 

 a notch and pass, fell thick on the frozen meadows. 

 The majestic form of Ritter was full in sight, and 

 I pushed rapidly on over rounded rock-bosses and 

 pavements, my iron-shod shoes making a clanking 

 sound, suddenly hushed now and then in rugs of 

 bryanthus, and sedgy lake-margins soft as moss. 

 Here, too, in this so-called " land of desolation," I 

 met cassiope, growing in fringes among the bat 

 tered rocks. Her blossoms had faded long ago, but 

 they were still clinging with happy memories to the 

 evergreen sprays, and still so beautiful as to thrill 

 every fiber of one's being. "Winter and summer, you 

 may hear her voice, the low, sweet melody of her 

 purple bells. No evangel among all the mountain 

 plants speaks Nature's love more plainly than 

 cassiope. Where she dwells, the redemption of the 

 coldest solitude is complete. The very rocks and 

 glaciers seem to feel her presence, and become im 

 bued with her own fountain sweetness. All things 

 were warming and awakening. Frozen rills began 

 to flow, the marmots came out of their nests in 

 boulder-piles and climbed sunny rocks to bask, and 

 the dun-headed sparrows were flitting about seek 

 ing their breakfasts. The lakes seen from every 

 ridge-top were brilliantly rippled and spangled, 

 shimmering like the thickets of the low Dwarf 

 Pines. The rocks, too, seemed responsive to the 

 vital heat rock-crystals and snow-crystals thrill- 



