THE WAE WITH NATURE 89 



down in the morning, in the night time they will 

 grow again. With her beloved weeds she will 

 wear out his spirit and break his heart; she will 

 sit still at a distance and laugh while he grows 

 weary of the hopeless struggle ; and, at last, when 

 he is ready to faint, she will go forth once more 

 and blow her trumpet on the hills and call her in- 

 numerable children to come and fall on and de- 

 stroy him utterly. 



This is no mere fancy portrait, for Nature her- 

 self sat for it in the desert, and it is painted in true 

 colors. Such is the contest the settler embarks 

 in so various in its fortunes, so full of great and 

 sudden vicissitudes, calling for so much vigilance 

 and strategy on his part. If the dreams he sets 

 out with are never realized, he is no worse off 

 in this respect than others. To one, born and 

 bred on the plains, the distant mountain range is 

 ever a region of enchantment ; when he reaches it 

 the glory is no more ; the opalescent tints and blue 

 ethereal shadows of noon, the violet hues of the 

 sunset have vanished. There is nothing after all 

 but a rude confusion of piled rocks ; but although 

 this is not what he expected, he ends by preferring 

 the mountain's roughness to the monotony of the 

 plain. The man who finishes his course by a fall 

 from his horse, or is swept away and drowned 

 when fording a swollen stream, has, in most cases, 

 spent a happier life than he who dies of apoplexy 

 in a counting-house or dining-room ; or, who, find- 

 ing that end which seemed so infinitely beautiful 



