A WONDERFUL PICTURE. 235 



tains I love. There is a range which satisfies 

 my soul, and will rest in my memory forever, a 

 beautiful picture, or rather a whole gallery of 

 pictures. I can shut my eyes and see it at this 

 moment, as I have seen it a thousand times. 

 In the early morning, when the level sun shines 

 on its face, it is like one continuous mountain 

 reaching across the whole western horizon ; it 

 has a broken and beautiful sky line ; Pike's 

 Peak looms up toward the middle, and lovely 

 Cheyenne ends it in graceful slope on the south ; 

 lights and shadows play over it ; its colors 

 change with the changing sky or atmosphere, 

 sometimes blue as the heavens, sometimes misty 

 as a dream ; it is wonderfully beautiful then. 

 But wait till the sun gets higher ; look again at 

 noon, or a little later. Behold the whole range 

 has sprung into life, separated into individuals ; 

 gorges are cut where none had appeared ; chasms 

 come to light ; canons and all sorts of divisions 

 are seen ; foothills move forward to their proper 

 places, and taller peaks turn at angles to each 

 other ; shapes and colors that one never sus- 

 pected come out in the picture : the transfor- 

 mation is marvelous. But the sun moves on, 

 the magical moment passes, each mountain slips 

 back into line, and behold, you see again the 

 morning's picture. 



Indulge me one moment, while I try to show 



