My First Summer 



other place has ever so overwhelmingly at- 

 tracted me as this hospitable, Godful wilder- 

 ness. 



September 2. A grand, red, rosy, crim- 

 son day, a perfect glory of a day. What 

 it means I don't know. It is the first marked 

 change from tranquil sunshine with purple 

 mornings and evenings and still, white noons. 

 There is nothing like a storm, however. 

 The average cloudiness only about .08, and 

 there is no sighing in the woods to betoken 

 a big weather change. The sky was red in 

 the morning and evening, the color not dif- 

 fused like the ordinary purple glow, but 

 loaded upon separate well-defined clouds 

 that remained motionless, as if anchored 

 around the jagged mountain-fenced hori- 

 zon. A deep-red cap, bluffy around its sides, 

 lingered a long time on Mt. Dana and Mt. 

 Gibbs, drooping so low as to hide most of 

 their bases, but leaving Dana's round sum- 

 mit free, which seemed to float separate 

 and alone over the big crimson cloud. Mam- 



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