ROSY MOUNTAINS. 237 



to appreciate. There are higher mountains, deeper ra- 

 vines, more precipitous cliffs in the world, but nowhere in 

 my wanderings have I found such lights as the departing 

 sun leaves on the white hills of New Hampshire. Some^ 

 times in the Tyrol I have seen an approximation to this 

 peculiarity, but only a distant approach. One I remem- 

 ber in the valley of the Litany, when Hermon, snowy with 

 his frozen clews, blushed in the evening over the departed 

 glory of the once Holy Land ; and the blush changed at 

 last into the purple tint that seemed as if it were a far-off 

 feeling of the glory from the chariot wheels of the Lord. 

 But the way of his journeying was remote, and the glory 

 was but for an instant, and vanished, and a sudden black- 

 ness, a cold cloud of gloom, covered the hill and fell into 

 the valley from Jebel-es-Sheik, and the sound of the Lita- 

 ny was like the sound of mourning. 



" The Alps boast of their rosy tints, and they are ex- 

 ceedingly beautiful, sometimes very gorgeous, as who has 

 not seen the Jungfrau from Interlaken, or Monte Rosa 

 from the Cathedral of Milan. I have never seen the 

 Rocky Mountains, but I have been told these same lights 

 which characterize the White Hills are not uncommon on 

 our western peaks. This I know, that no capacity for en- 

 joyment is sufficient to appreciate the variety and change 

 of the sunset and evening: lights in the Franconia Notch 

 — and though one has seen them a thousand times, he 

 sees them each evening with new and sober delight, some- 

 times rising into awe." 



" Do you know, Effendi, that the greatness of that Pro- 

 file oppresses me. I have been drifting around Profile 

 Lake all the afternoon and evening in your boat, and 

 studying the face. It becomes a sort of fascination, and 

 by no means a pleasant one. You have seen the Lord 



