A LABkADOR LANDSCAPE. 215 



in shadow. And where that shine fell, the foliage 

 changed from green to a glowing, luminous red-brown, 

 expressed with astonishing force, — not a trace, not a 

 hint of green remaining ! Beyond it the mountain pre- 

 served its whited gray ; nearer, on either side, the woods 

 stood out in clear green ; and, separated from these by 

 the sharpest line, rose this ridge of enchanted forest. 

 You will incline to think that one might have seen 

 through this illusion by trying hard enough. But never 

 were the colors in a paint-pot more definite and deter- 

 mined. 



" This was but the beginning. I had turned away, and 

 was debating with myself whether some such color, seen 

 on the Scotch and English hills, had not given the hint for 

 those uniform browns which Turner in his youth copied 

 from his earlier masters. When I looked back, the 

 sunshine had flooded the mountain, and was bathing it 

 all in the purest rose-red. Bathing it? No, the. moun- 

 tain was solidly converted, transformed to that hue ! The 

 power, the simplicity, the translucent, shining depth of 

 the color were all that you can imagine, if you make no 

 abatements and task your imagination to the utmost. 

 This roseate hue no rose in the garden of Orient or 

 Occident ever surpassed. Small spaces were seen where 

 the color became a pure ruby, which could not 

 have been more lustrous and intense had it proceeded 

 from a polished ruby gem ten rods in dimension. Color 

 could go no farther. Yet if the eye lost these for a mo- 

 ment, it was compelled somewhat to search for them, — 

 so powerful, so brilliant was the rose setting in which 

 they were embosomed. 



"One must remember how near at hand all this was 



