A NIGHT ON SHASTA'S SUMMIT 



ous cloud-zone. Rhett and Klamath Lakes 

 were eclipsed beneath clouds scarcely less bril- 

 liant than their own silvery disks. The Modoc 

 Lava Beds, many a snow-laden peak far north 

 in Oregon, the Scott and Trinity and Siskiyou 

 Mountains, the peaks of the Sierra, the blue 

 Coast Range, Shasta Valley, the dark forests 

 filling the valley of the Sacramento, all in turn 

 were obscured or buried, leaving the lofty cone 

 on which we stood solitary hi the sunshine 

 between two skies a sky of spotless blue 

 above, a sky of glittering cloud beneath. The 

 creative sun shone glorious on the vast expanse 

 of cloudland; hill and dale, mountain and val- 

 ley springing into existence responsive to his 

 rays and steadily developing in beauty and 

 individuality. One huge mountain-cone of 

 cloud, corresponding to Mount Shasta in these 

 newborn cloud-ranges, rose close alongside 

 with a visible motion, its firm, polished bosses 

 seeming so near and substantial that we almost 

 fancied we might leap down upon them from 

 where we stood and make our way to the low- 

 lands. No hint was given, by anything in 

 their appearance, of the fleeting character of 

 these most sublime and beautiful cloud moun- 

 tains. On the contrary they impressed one as 

 being lasting additions to the landscape. 

 The weather of the springtime and summer, 



