THE DESEBT 



A gaunt 

 land. 



Conditions 

 ojlife. 



nature that minor poets love to juggle with 

 are missing on the desert. It is stern, harsh, 

 and at first repellent. But what tongue shall 

 tell the majesty of it, the eternal strength of it, 

 the poetry of its wide-spread chaos, the sub- 

 limity of its lonely desolation ! And who shall 

 paint the splendor of its light ; and from the 

 rising up of the sun to the going down of the 

 moon over the iron mountains, the glory of its 

 wondrous coloring ! It is a gaunt land of 

 splintered peaks, torn valleys, and hot skies. 

 And at every step there is the suggestion of the 

 fierce, the defiant, the defensive. Everything 

 within its borders seems fighting to maintain 

 itself against destroying forces. There is a war 

 of elements and a struggle for existence going 

 on here that for ferocity is unparalleled else- 

 where in nature. 



The feeling of fierceness grows upon you as 

 you come to know the desert better. The sun- 

 shafts are falling in a burning shower upon 

 rock and dune, the winds blowing with the 

 breath of far-off fires are withering the bushes 

 and the grasses, the sands drifting higher and 

 higher are burying the trees and reaching up as 

 though they would overwhelm the mountains, 

 the cloud-bursts are rushing down the moun- 



