My First Summer 



rivers, oceans, ships, cities with their myriads 

 of inhabitants sleeping and waking, sick and 

 well. No, she seemed to be just on the rim 

 of Bloody Canon and looking only at me. 

 This was indeed getting near to Nature. I 

 remember watching the harvest moon ris- 

 ing above the oak trees in Wisconsin appar- 

 ently as big as a cart-wheel and not farther 

 than half a mile distant. With these excep- 

 tions I might say I never before had seen 

 the moon, and this night she seemed so full 

 of life and so near, the effect was marvel- 

 ously impressive and made me forget the 

 Indians, the great black rocks above me, and 

 the wild uproar of the winds and waters 

 making their way down the huge jagged 

 gorge. Of course I slept but little and gladly 

 welcomed the dawn over the Mono Desert. 

 By the time I had made a cupful of tea the 

 sunbeams were pouring through the canon, 

 and I set forth, gazing eagerly at the tre- 

 mendous walls of red slates savagely hacked 

 and scarred and apparently ready to fall in 



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