274 THE MOUNTAINS OF CALIFOKNIA 



of stormy cultivation they have been blest with, 

 how beautiful they have become ! The first rains 

 fell on raw, crumbling moraines and rocks with 

 out a plant. Now scarcely a drop can fail to find a 

 beautiful mark : on the tops of the peaks, on the 

 smooth glacier pavements, on the curves of the 

 domes, on moraines full of crystals, on the thou 

 sand forms of yosemitic sculpture with their 

 tender beauty of balmy, flowery vegetation, lav 

 ing, plashing, glinting, pattering; some falling softly 

 on meadows, creeping out of sight, seeking and 

 finding every thirsty rootlet, some through the 

 spires of the woods, sifting in dust through the 

 needles, and whispering good cheer to each of 

 them; some falling with blunt tapping sounds, 

 drumming on the broad leaves of veratrum, cypri- 

 pedium, saxifrage; some falling straight into fra 

 grant corollas, kissing the lips of lilies, glinting on 

 the sides of crystals, on shining grains of gold; 

 some falling into the fountains of snow to swell 

 their well-saved stores; some into the lakes and 

 rivers, patting the smooth glassy levels, making 

 dimples and bells and spray, washing the mountain 

 windows, washing the wandering winds; some 

 plashing into the heart of snowy falls and cascades 

 as if eager to join in the dance and the song and 

 beat the foam yet finer. Good work and happy 

 work for the merry mountain raindrops, each one 

 of them a brave fall in itself, rushing from the cliffs 

 and hollows of the clouds into the cliffs and hol 

 lows of the mountains ; away from the thunder of 

 the sky into the thunder of the roaring rivers. 

 And how far they have to go, and how many cups 



