NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 



seems uncontaminated by earthly touch, and 

 their shining surfaces are not comparable to any 

 terrestrial thing save the newly fallen snow 

 glistening on the highest Alpine peaks. 



And in color what is, what could be, more 

 gorgeous, without a note of discord, than the 

 western clouds at sunset ? They have no hue 

 in themselves, and yet, like the flowers of the 

 fields and the waters in the lakes, they have the 

 power of reflecting and refracting colors of the 

 utmost brilliancy. And how vivid these hues 

 become as the hot sun throws his parting shafts 

 of fire over and under and through the fleecy 

 drifts of vapor ! After the red disk has fallen 

 below the horizon the scattered patches con- 

 tinue to burn and glow in scarlets, golds, and 

 pinks all imaginable hues from bright blood- 

 red to dark violet. As the sun sinks still lower 

 its shafts strike upward upon the under-sur- 

 faces of the clouds, and for a time the color 

 seems even more brilliant. And when the 

 cloud-bars just across the horizon begin to dim 

 their lustre the high, " mackerel sky " catches 

 up the color and the flame mounts upward to 

 the zenith, from cloud to cloud, like steps in a 

 ladder of fire, lessening in glory as the height 

 is reached, and finally lost entirely in the blue. 



