232 



THE DESERT 



of the waste. 



Desolation 

 and silence. 



time not because they develop character in des- 

 ert life, but simply because they are beautiful 

 in themselves and good to look upon whether 

 they be life or death. In sublimity the su- 

 perlative degree of beauty what land can equal 

 the desert with its wide plains, its grim moun- 

 tains, and its expanding canopy of sky ! You 

 shall never see elsewhere as here the dome, the 

 pinnacle, the minaret fretted with golden fire 

 at sunrise and sunset ; you shall never see else- 

 where as here the sunset valleys swimming in a 

 pink and lilac haze, the great mesas and plateaus 

 fading into blue distance, the gorges and can- 

 yons banked full of purple shadow. Never 

 again shall you see such light and air and color ; 

 never such opaline mirage, such rosy dawn, such 

 fiery twilight. And wherever you go, by land 

 or by sea, you shall not forget that which you 

 saw not but rather felt the desolation and the 

 silence of the desert. 



Look out from the mountain's edge once 

 more. A dusk is gathering on the desert's face, 

 and over the eastern horizon the purple shadow 

 of the world is reaching up to the sky. The 

 light is fading out. Plain and mesa are blurring 

 into unknown distances, and mountain-ranges 

 are looming dimly into unknown heights. Warm 



