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THE DESEBT 



Changed 

 colors. 



The little 

 hills. 



Painting 

 th desert. 



through it. But turn in your saddle and look 

 to the east, and the hills we have left behind 

 us are surrounded by veilings of lilac. Again 

 the omnipresent desert air ! We see the 

 western hills as through an amber glass, but 

 looking to the east the glass Is changed to pale 

 amethyst. 



How delicately beautiful are the hills that 

 seem to gather in little groups along the waste ! 

 They are not sharp-edged in their ridges like 

 the higher mountains. Wind, rain, and sand 

 have done their work upon them until there is 

 hardly a rough feature left to them. All their 

 lines are smooth and flow from one into another ; 

 and all the parti-colors of their rocks and soils 

 are blended into one tone by the light and the 

 air. With surfaces that catch and reflect light, 

 and little depressions that hold shadows, how 

 very picturesque they are ! Indeed as you 

 watch them breaking the horizon-line you are 

 surprised to see how easily they compose into 

 pictures. If you tried to put them upon can- 

 vas your surprise would probably be greater tc 

 find how very little you could make of them. 

 The desert is not more paintable than the Alps. 

 Both are too big. 



These hills they are usually called lomas 



