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Lovely wild-flower gardens occupy many of 

 the openings in this torn and bristling edge of 

 the forest. In places acres are crowded so 

 closely with thrifty, brilliant bloom that one 

 hesitates to walk through and trample the 

 flowers. Here the columbine, the paintbrush, 

 the monument-plant, and scores of other bright 

 blossoms cheer the wild frontier. 



Rarely are strangers in the mountains thor- 

 oughly aroused. They need time or explana- 

 tion in order to comprehend or appreciate the 

 larger scenes, though they do, of course, have 

 periodic outbursts in adjectives. But at timber- 

 line the monumental scene at once has the 

 attention, and no explanation is needed. Tim- 

 ber-line tells its own stirring story of frontier 

 experience by a forest of powerful and eloquent 

 tree statues and bold, battered, and far-ex- 

 tending figures in relief. 



Only a few of the many young people whom 

 I have guided to timber-line have failed to feel 

 the significance of the scene, but upon one party 

 fresh from college the eloquent pioneer spirit of 

 the place made no impression, and they talked 



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