132 OUR NATIONAL PARKS 



empyrean ; and forgetting his age, plans, duties, 

 ties of every sort, I proposed an immeasurable 

 camping trip back in the heart of the mountains. 

 He seemed anxious to go, but considerately men- 

 tioned his party. I said : " Never mind. The 

 mountains are calling ; run away, and let plans 

 and parties and dragging lowland duties all 

 ' gang tapsal-teerie.' We '11 go up a canon sing- 

 ing your own song, ' Good-by, proud world ! 

 I 'm going home,' in divine earnest. Up there 

 lies a new heaven and a new earth ; let us go to 

 the show." But alas, it was too late, — too near 

 the sundown of his life. The shadows were grow- 

 ing long, and he leaned on his friends. His 

 party, full of indoor philosophy, failed to see the 

 natural beauty and fullness of promise of my wild 

 plan, and laughed at it in good-natured ignorance, 

 as if it were necessarily amusing to imagine that 

 Boston people might be led to accept Sierra 

 manifestations of God at the price of rough 

 camping. Anyhow, they would have none of it, 

 and held Mr. Emerson to the hotels and trails. 



After spending only five tourist days in 

 Yosemite he was led away, but I saw him two 

 days more ; for I was kindly invited to go with 

 the party as far as the Mariposa big trees. I told 

 Mr. Emerson that I would gladly go to the 

 sequoias with him, if he would camp in the grove. 

 He consented heartily, and I felt sure that we 

 would have at least one good wild memorable night 



