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E. B. Delabarre, Ph. D. m 



reds of their leaves, and with the greens, reds, browns, and 

 grays of the mosses and lichens, are the isolated bits of yellow 

 of arnica and golden-rod, the blue of the harebell, the pink of 

 lychnis and of the fireweed. Willows growing to the height 

 of seven or eight feet and less, and birches and alders of lower 

 growth, thickly line the borders of ponds and streams. ' On 

 the lower parts of the mountains the same growths are intri- 

 cately interspersed with the protruding masses of rock, which 

 themselves vary in color among the softer and harsher tones 

 of black, brown, and gray. The ascendancy in this com- 

 bination of struggling life and rigid earth is gradually gained 

 by the latter as the elevation becomes greater, until, toward 

 the shattered tops, there occur only rare, isolated specimens 

 of the more ambitious and hardy plants. The steep cliffs and 

 talus grades are destitute of any trace of vegetation, but in 

 many places, especially toward the upper ends of the two 

 arms of the bay, they show a magnificent wealth and variety 

 of coloration, in which shades of red and yellow occur among 

 the more frequent tones of brown and gray. 



In spite of their height, none of these summits are buried 

 beneath the weight of eternal snows, and no glaciers plow 

 through the foldings of their sides. Scattered banks and 

 patches of the previous winter's snow linger here and there 

 at all heights, but they constitute a comparatively subordi- 

 nate motif in the total harmony of the landscape. At this 

 season, freshly-fallen snow may at any time cover the moun- 

 tain tops. Water, also, except for the great bays and the 

 blue stretch of the ocean itself when these are visible, forms 

 but a minor element of scenic beauty. The rivers are usually 

 hidden among the irregular curvings of the mountains, or 

 conceal themselves among the boulders of their beds. 



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