ON FOOT IN THE YOSEMITE 



ing, on the first day. I must have time, — time 

 and a liberal chance for repetition. And in the 

 Yosemite, which is as rich in modest loveliness 

 as in spectacular grandeur, a fact of which far 

 too little is made, I know perfectly well that 

 there are countless beauties which I have never 

 seen (more and more of them were coming to 

 light up to my very last day), as well as countless 

 others that I should rejoice to see iagain, or, 

 better still, to live with. Give me the opportun- 

 ity, say I, and I will cheerfully risk all danger of 

 disillusion, or, as my friend of the wild roses 

 more feelingly expressed it, the "loss of the 

 thrUl." 



