Book Reviezvs 



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"Letters to Slight in form in comparison with his later writings, these 

 A Friend"* early letters of John Muir to his friend come to us as a 

 voice from the past, bearing a charm and a fragrance like 

 that of his own dear flowers. Written to one who in motherly affection 

 offered her appreciation and sympathy, they are the outpouring of a 

 heart in whose greatness many were to find companionship. But like all 

 who bear to mankind a revelation of the invisible, Muir was destined to 

 pass many lonely years with nature and with God before people in gen- 

 eral were willing to receive his message. 



In 1868 Muir yielded to that silent but potent invitation which the 

 great forests and wild-flower gardens of our glorious California ever 

 extend to the lover of nature. Inquiring the way to Yosemite, he set out 

 afoot across the continuous flower fields of the central valley, pausing 

 at night to lie beneath their enfolding bloom, and pressing onward by 

 day toward the heavenly mountains that were to receive him as their 

 own. 



With an undying enthusiasm this prophet of the mountains casts for- 

 ever aside the advice of his well-meaning friends, who would have him 

 enter a career that amounted to something, and, with unspeakable joy, he 

 roams over the untrodden paradise of our great Sierra Nevada. 



Patiently he studies the life of bird, and flower, and tree, discovering 

 their inmost secrets and enabling them to converse with us in a common 

 language. He forms close acquaintance with glaciers, standing amid a 

 storm of criticism as their friend, for he showed how they have carved 

 and polished these mountains and made possible the peace and joy of 

 the valleys. Even the rocks seemed to reveal to him their age-long se- 

 crets as he saw in them God's own writing. 



In the incomparable waterfalls of Yosemite and other valleys of the 

 range Muir found an unending source of pure delight. How reverently 

 he worships their creator as he listens to their changing music ! Each 

 tiny drop to him is a heaven-born voice, and all are singing in wondrous 

 melody. By night as well as by day he mingles with their spray, on one 

 occasion following a tiny ledge that led him far behind the great Yo- 

 semite Fall. Here, amid its ceaseless thunder, he watches the moon- 

 beams as they filter through the mist. As he lingers long, some spent 

 comets of the fall are blown inward, acquainting him with their hidden 

 power, and speedily inducing him to depart from their sanctuary. 



But it is to the glorious, eternal mountains that Muir oftenest turns. 

 With only a crust of bread, living on air and water as only a mountain- 

 eer knows how, he seeks their distant summits. In all our wide domain 

 none are more transcendently beautiful than these heavenly mountains. 

 In their flowery valleys, filled with giant trees, innumerable lakes and 

 fairy falls, even the unfeeling traveler must linger with delight, while in 



* Letters to a Friend. Written to Mrs. Ezra S. Carr, 1866-1879. By John Muir. 

 Houghton, Mifflin Co. 1915. $3.00 net. 



