In the Sierra 



sermons. Snow that refused to melt in fire 

 would hardly be more wonderful than un- 

 changing dullness in the rays of God's beauty. 

 I have been trying to get him to walk to the 

 brink of Yosemite for a view, offering to 

 watch the sheep for a day, while he should 

 enjoy what tourists come from all over the 

 world to see. But though within a mile of 

 the famous valley, he will not go to it even 

 out of mere curiosity. "What," says he, "is 

 Yosemite but a canon a lot of rocks a 

 hole in the ground a place dangerous 

 about falling into a d d good place to 

 keep away from." " But think of the water- 

 falls, Billy --just think of that big stream 

 we crossed the other day, falling half a mile 

 through the air think of that, and the 

 sound it makes. You can hear it now like the 

 roar of the sea." Thus I pressed Yosemite 

 upon him like a missionary offering the 

 gospel, but he would have none of it. " I 

 should be afraid to look over so high a wall," 

 he said. " It would make my head swim. 

 [ '97] 



