BUTTERFLIES OF MT. HOOD 157 



though too vast, too complete, too sublime for 

 the heart to hold, was worth the climb, and more. 

 I doubt if a few thousand extra feet — the height 

 of Mont Blanc or Denali — could add anything 

 to the prospect from Hood. The consciousness 

 of such heights might deepen one's sense of awe 

 and terror, but could only blur the earth below 

 and leave one cut off as a thing of clay among 

 the clouds. 



So I felt even on the top of Hood until I saw 

 the butterflies. And what a relief, what a surprise 

 to see Vanessa californica flitting about the peak of 

 Hood ! I could have fallen off for astonishment ! 

 I had not seen the butterflies at first. Not until the 

 keen, cutting wind drove us to shelter behind the 

 rocks did I notice the tiny creatures winging past. 



We were sitting where we could look into the 

 crater on the one side, and where, directly beneath 

 us, we could see clear down the wall with the rope, 

 to the glacier and the trail over which we had 

 come. At our feet was a small gully, a kind of 

 flue in the crater-wall. The draft pulled hard in 

 every direction among the gaps and cuts of the 

 rocks, but hardest up this flue or chimney. The 

 butterflies seemed to be ascending the mountain, 



