FAR AND NEAR 



glacier had been there but yesterday. Granite 

 boulders, round and smooth like enormous eggs, sat 

 poised on the rocks or lay scattered about. A child's 

 hand could have started some of them thundering 

 down the awful precipices. When the Muir Glacier 

 rose to that height, which of course it did in no very 

 remote past, what an engine for carving and poHsh- 

 ing the mountains it must have been ! Its moraines 

 of that period — where are they ? Probably along the 

 Pacific coast under hundreds of fathoms of water. 



Back upon the summit the snow lay deep, and 

 swept up in a wide sheet to a sharp, inaccessible 

 peak far beyond and above us. The sweet bird 

 voices in this primal solitude were such a surprise 

 and so welcome. There was the piercing plaint 

 of the golden-crowned sparrow, the rich warble of 

 Townsend's fox sparrow, and the sweet strain of 

 the small hermit thrush. The rosy finch was there 

 also, hopping upon the snow, and the pipit or titlark 

 soared and sang in the warm, lucid air above us. 

 This last song was not much for music, but the 

 hovering flight of the bird above these dizzy heights 

 drew the eye strongly. It circled about joyously, 

 calling chip, chip, chip, chip, without change of 

 time or tune. Below it a white ptarmigan rose up 

 and wheeled about, uttering a curious hoarse, croak- 

 ing sound, and dropped back to his mate on the 

 rocks. In keeping with these delicate signs of bird 

 life were the little pink flowers, a species of moss 

 52 



