Letters to a Friend 



ered the sky above it and all of its opening 

 canons, and studied the forces that came in by 

 every door that I saw standing open, but I 

 could get no light. Then I said: "You are at 

 tempting what is not possible for you to ac 

 complish. Yosemite is the end of a grand chap 

 ter; if you would learn to read it, go commence 

 at the beginning." Then I went above to the 

 alphabet valleys of the summits, comparing 

 canon with canon, with all their varieties of 

 rock-structure and cleavage and the compara 

 tive size and slope of the glaciers and waters 

 which they contained; also the grand congre 

 gations of rock-creations was present to me, and 

 I studied their forms and sculpture. I soon had 

 a key to every Yosemite rock and perpendicular 

 and sloping wall. The grandeur of these forces 

 and their glorious results overpower me and 

 inhabit my whole being. Waking or sleeping, 

 I have no rest. In dreams I read blurred sheets 

 of glacial writing, or follow lines of cleavage, 

 or struggle with the difficulties of some extraor 

 dinary rock-form. Now it is clear that woe is 

 [ 106] 



