250 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFORNIA 



mond. The Douglas Spruces, with long sprays 

 drawn out in level tresses, and needles massed in a 

 gray, shimmering glow, presented a most striking 

 appearance as they stood in bold relief along the 

 hilltops. The madronos in the dells, with their 

 red bark and large glossy leaves tilted every 

 way, reflected the sunshine in throbbing spangles 

 like those one so often sees oh the rippled surface 

 of a glacier lake. But the Silver Pines were now 

 the most impressively beautiful of all. Colossal 

 spires 200 feet in height waved like supple golden- 

 rods chanting and bowing low as if in worship, 

 while the whole mass of their long, tremulous foli 

 age was kindled into one continuous blaze of white 

 sun-fire. The force of the gale was such that the 

 most steadfast monarch of them all rocked down to 

 its roots with a motion plainly perceptible v^hen one 

 leaned against it. Nature was holding high festi 

 val, and every fiber of the most rigid giants thrilled 

 with glad excitement. 



I drifted on through the midst of this passionate 

 music and motion, across many a glen, from ridge 

 to ridge; often halting in the lee of a rock for 

 shelter, or to gaze and listen. Even when the 

 grand anthem had swelled to its highest pitch, I 

 could distinctly hear the varying tones of individ 

 ual trees, Spruce, and Fir, and Pine, and leafless 

 Oak, and even the infinitely gentle rustle of the 

 withered grasses at my feet. Each was expressing 

 itself in its own way, singing its own song, and 

 making its own peculiar gestures, manifesting a 

 richness of variety to be found in no other forest I 

 have yet seen. The coniferous woods of Canada, 



