My First Summer 



more than three thousand feet. Still my 

 limbs did not tremble, nor did I feel the least 

 uncertainty as to the reliance to be placed 

 on them. My only fear was that a flake of 

 the granite, which in some places showed 

 joints more or less open and running parallel 

 with the face of the cliff, might give way. 

 After withdrawing from such places, excited 

 with the view I had got, I would say to 

 myself, " Now don't go out on the verge 

 again." But in the face of Yosemite scenery 

 cautious remonstrance is vain ; under its spell 

 one's body seems to go where it likes with a 

 will over which we seem to have scarce any 

 control. 



After a mile or so of this memorable 

 cliff work I approached Yosemite Creek, 

 admiring its easy, graceful, confident ges- 

 tures as it comes bravely forward in its nar- 

 row channel, singing the last of its mountain 

 songs on its way to its fate a few rods 

 more over the shining granite, then down 

 half a mile in snowy foam to another world, 

 [ 156] 



