In the Sierra 



tween the peaks and over the Yosemite 

 domes, making their edges burn ; the silver 

 firs in the middle ground catching the glow 

 on their spiry tops, and our camp grove 

 fills and thrills with the glorious light. 

 Everything awakening alert and joyful ; 

 the birds begin to stir and innumerable in- 

 sect people. Deer quietly withdraw into 

 leafy hiding-places in the chaparral; the 

 dew vanishes, flowers spread their petals, 

 every pulse beats high, every life cell re- 

 joices, the very rocks seem to thrill with 

 life. The whole landscape glows like a 

 human face in a glory of enthusiasm, and 

 the blue sky, pale around the horizon, 

 bends peacefully down over all like one vast 

 flower. 



About noon, as usual, big bossy cumuli 

 began to grow above the forest, and the rain- 

 storm pouring from them is the most im- 

 posing I have yet seen. The silvery zigzag 

 lightning lances are longer than usual, and 

 the thunder gloriously impressive, keen, 

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