158 



Sierra Club Bulletin 



met sea in a surging rush of eddying waters. Across the river 

 rose wooded banks and a dark, high promontory. Behind us 

 piles of silvery driftwood concealed the town. Ahead lay the 

 gleaming horizon line, sunlit under the fog. Beside i > was 

 the rhythmic, thundering roll of surf, the battling river water, 

 and for all sign of human occupation the battered spars of a 

 wreck, the perch of sea birds and scolding black crows. Th< ugh 

 not a bright picture, like those we brought away fror the 

 mountain world, it was nevertheless one of indescribable gran- 

 deur, significant of elemental forces uncontrollable by man — all 

 the more a fit setting, perhaps, for the home of a vanirnng 

 race. 



"Oh, our manhood's prime vigour! No spirit feels waste. 

 Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. 



Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock, 

 The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver 

 shock 



Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the haunt of the bear. 

 And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair. 



And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over with gold dust divine. 

 And the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, the full draught of 

 wine. 



And the sleep in the dried river-channel where bulrushes tell 

 That the water was wont to go warbling so softly and well. 



How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ 

 All the heart and the soul and the senses for ever in joy!" 



From Robert Browning's "Saul." 



