84 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



the mules with their loads had sometimes to be let 

 down over the steepest drifts and avalanche beds 

 by means of ropes. 



A good bridle-path leads from Yosemite through 

 many a grove and meadow up to the head of the 

 canon, a distance of about thirty miles. Here the 

 scenery undergoes a sudden and startling conden 

 sation. Mountains, red, gray, and black, rise close 

 at hand on the right, whitened around their bases 

 with banks of enduring snow; on the left swells 

 the huge red mass of Mount Gribbs, while in front 

 the eye wanders down the shadowy canon, and out 

 on the warm plain of Mono, where the lake is seen 

 gleaming like a burnished metallic disk, with clus 

 ters of lofty volcanic cones to the south of it. 



When at length we enter the mountain gateway, 

 the somber rocks seem aware of our presence, 

 and seem to come thronging closer about us. 

 Happily the ouzel and the old familiar robin are 

 here to sing us welcome, and azure daisies beam 

 with trustfulness and sympathy, enabling us to 

 feel something of Nature's love even here, beneath 

 the gaze of her coldest rocks. 



The effect of this expressive outspokenness on 

 the part of the canon-rocks is greatly enhanced 

 by the quiet aspect of the alpine meadows through 

 which we pass just before entering the narrow 

 gateway. The forests in which they lie, and the 

 mountain-tops rising beyond them, seem quiet and 

 tranquil. We catch their restful spirit, yield to 

 the soothing influences of the sunshine, and saun 

 ter dreamily on through flowers and bees, scarce 

 touched by a definite thought ; then suddenly we 



