Mountain Meteorological Stations and an 



surrounding the monarch of the range. They are called " cones,'' how- 

 ever, the name "peak " being reserved for the one that towers above 

 its companions. As we gaze upward the view that is spread out before 

 the eye is of indescribable grandeur. The cones seem to pierce the very 

 heavens. Their summits appear like needle points, and yet they are 

 actually several acres in extent. They reach far above the " timber 

 line," and the fringe of skirting trees, well up on their hoary necks, 

 reminds one of the old-fashioned choker. But the great cones don't 

 satisfy us. Where is the Peak ? I am amazed that it is necessary to ask 

 the question. The Sergeant notices my dismay, and kindly directs my 

 attention to a snow-covered, truncated cone, forming the background 

 of the cluster of cones, and says, " that is the Peak, sir." Its summit 

 is lost in the clouds and is very rarely seen from the foot hills. The 

 immensity of this great Peak slowly dawned upon me, and my mind 

 was absorbed in vain endeavors to compass its dimensions, for no true 

 conception of its magnitude can be formed until the summit is reached 

 and the observer, in astonishment, casts about him to find what has 

 become of those monster cones which first caught the eye and came 

 well nigh deceiving him as to their identity. 



The mules became more sedate and thoughtful as we began the 

 ascent of the long and narrow trail. I noticed that we were slowly 

 rising on the mountain side and that the trail was narrowing down to 

 a mere " cow path," and finally to a sheep's path, if it is proper to call 

 a streak through the grass by such a name. I realized that all thoughts 

 of grand scenery, rushing waters, and all that sort of thing were being 

 rapidly replaced by considerations as to the size of the mule's feet, the 

 weight of his ears, the location of the centre of gravity of the mule 

 and his rider, and whether the rider had better stay on or get off. 

 In this reverie of despair a call from the Sergeant startled me. I 

 tried to look about and answer him, but to my horror I found that the 

 mule was walking what appeared to be a tight rope, spanning a gorge, 

 the depths of which appeared to be unfathomable. I didn't turn and 

 it was well that I refrained from that exercise, for the noble animal 

 was using- the utmost precaution in placing one foot before the other, 

 while crossing a narrow log that constituted that portion of the trail 

 After crossing, the Sergeant called a halt and advised that I allow 

 the reins to rest upon the neck of the mule and give my entire atten- 

 tion to preserving a good balance and maintaining a quiet seat. There 

 were many more difficult places to come before we reached the "Half- 

 way House," and the mules were perfectly familiar with the entire trail, 

 having "packed" many a bundle of freight over it for the Signal 



