WILD PARKS OF THE WEST 27 



snow is falling on the upper forests and moun- 

 tain tops. Day after day, often for weeks, the 

 big clouds give their flowers without ceasing, as 

 if knowing how important is the work they have 

 to do. The glinting, swirling swarms thicken 

 the blast, and the trees and rocks are covered 

 to a depth of ten to twenty feet. Then the 

 mountaineer, snug in a grove with bread and 

 fire, has nothing to do but gaze and listen and 

 enjoy. Ever and anon the deep, low roar of the 

 storm is broken by the booming of avalanches, 

 as the snow slips from the overladen heights and 

 rushes down the long white slopes to fill the 

 fountain hollows. All the smaller streams are 

 hushed and buried, and the young groves of 

 spruce and fir near the edge of the timber-line 

 are gently bowed to the ground and put to sleep, 

 not again to see the light of day or stir branch 

 or leaf until the spring. 



These grand reservations should draw thou- 

 sands of admiring visitors at least in summer, yet 

 they are neglected as if of no account, and spoil- 

 ers are allowed to ruin them as fast as they like. 1 

 A few peeled spars cut here were set up in Lon- 

 don, Philadelphia, and Chicago, where they 



1 The outlook over forest affairs is now encouraging. Popular in- 

 terest, more practical than sentimental in -whatever touches the welfare 

 of the country's forests, is growing rapidly, and a hopeful begin- 

 ning has been made by the Government in real protection for the res- 

 ervations as well as for the parks. From July 1, 1900, there have 

 been 9 superintendents, 39 supervisors, and from 330 to 445 rangers of 

 reservations. 



