Notes and Correspondence. 265 



tinel Rock, Cathedral Spires, the overhanging rock, and so many- 

 spots that appeal to lovers of nature — but it is impossible to 

 picture them all, and the painter is yet to live who can duplicate 

 on canvas the marvelous beauty and supreme grandeur of the 

 Yosemite Valley. 



Only a poet could have named the Bridal Veil Falls, modest 

 and unassuming as it is. No one dreams when they see it that 

 this veil of water is falling from a height of 940 feet. 



And yet that does not compare with the upper Yosemite Falls, 

 so marvelously enchanting in its beauty that it is famed the 

 world over; whose crystal waters, sometimes only like a thread, 

 drop sixteen hundred feet from the summit of the cliffs to the 

 rocks below, and then go on and on, like a thing of life, drop- 

 ping and dropping another thousand feet to reach the River of 

 Mercy, which flows through the valley. 



The Merced River as it comes from the summit of the Sierra 

 Nevadas is a turbulent stream and leaps with a rush 605 feet 

 down over the Nevada Falls, and again 350 feet at the Vernal 

 Falls, then as a cataract roars and tumbles through a mountain 

 gorge until it reaches the valley itself, through which it flows 

 peacefully and quietly, doing its share to help make this valley 

 a paradise for man. 



Well do I remember the sight I saw on one of my visits to 

 the valley in the autumn of three years ago. You can visit the 

 valley any time in the year. Nature had clothed the trees in 

 a many-hued foliage with nearly all the colors of the rainbow, 

 and, glance where you would, a pleasant sight met the eye. 



With a friend, we had ridden up the trail from the Sentinel 

 Hotel to Glacier Point, climbing thirty-two hundred feet in ele- 

 vation above the valley — 7,214 feet above the level of the sea. 

 We were close to the overhanging rock opposite the Half Dome, 

 which, with all its vastness, seemed to give us greeting. Wc 

 wished it were possible to step across the impassable chasm. 

 Away down below us lay the peaceful valley, the Merced River, 

 like a tiny streak, winding its sinuous way through it, while 

 Mirror Lake reflected on its silver surface the rocks beyond. 



Looking to the east we could see the Nevada and Vernal Falls, 

 and at that height and distance could hear the roar of their 

 falling waters. 



There had been a slight fall of snow, which, owing to differ- 

 ence of elevation, had not fallen in the valley below. This made 

 a mantle of white, covering the high mountains. The forests 

 here and there showed their varied colors, and rugged rocks in 

 places made dark spots in the landscape. Mount Starr King, 

 reaching upward 9,200 feet toward the heavens, stood a grand, 

 noble object between us and the summits of the Sierra Nevadas, 



