MOUNTAINS AND HILLS 



dow, have you noticed how they vary with 

 the different lights and atmospheres ? Have 

 you seen them at sunrise lying off in the west, 

 when the light is on them instead of behind 

 them, and each barren crag gleams like a star, 

 when the pine forest on the ridge is pale and 

 blue, and the network of interblended lines is 

 woven faint and fleecy against the dark ground 

 of the half-awakened sky ? How cold and still 

 are the valleys in shadow, and how spectre-like 

 the mists floating hither and thither, knocking 

 themselves to pieces on the mountain-side, and 

 finally dying out like smoke against the clear 

 sky ! Have you noticed them at noon, when 

 the sun in the zenith has bleached their forest- 

 greens to grays and blues, when the valleys 

 drowse in the blazing light and the sky lines are 

 vague almost to the point of obliteration ? 

 What a thick veil of silver-blue air lies in the 

 valleys and along the ridges, blurring and ob- 

 scuring everything with delicate fingers un- 

 til the far-off peaks seem turning into clouds ! 

 The mountains lie enchanted under the wand 

 of the sunlight like the princes in Elfland. 

 No sound, no wind, no motion; silent they 

 rest under the falling light, reflecting the sky 

 above them. Of course, you have seen these 



