352 THE CAROLINA MOUNTAINS 
Ridge, or again the basin is filled with dreamlike 
forms immersed in an exquisite sea of mystical light. 
Sometimes the Grandfather Mountain stands 
solidly out, showing In detail the tapestry of green 
trees that hangs over its slopes ; again it is blue and 
flat against the sky, or it seems made of mists and 
shadows. Sometimes the sunset glory penetrates, as 
it were, into the substance of the mountain, which 
looks translucent in the sea of light that contains it. 
As night draws on, it darkens into a noble silhouette 
against the splendor that often draws the curves of 
its summit in lines of fire. 
Blowing Rock at times lies above the clouds, with 
all the world blotted out excepting the Grand- 
father's summit rising out of the white mists. Some- 
times one looks out in the morning to see that great 
bowl filled to the brim with level cloud that reaches 
away from one's very feet in a floor so firm to the 
eye that one is tempted to step out on it. Presently 
this pure white, level floor begins to roll up into bil- 
lowy masses, deep wells open, down which one looks 
to little landscapes lying in the bottom, a bit of the 
lovely John's River Valley, a house and trees, per- 
haps. The well closes; the higher peaks begin to 
appear, phantom islands in a phantom sea ; the rest- 
less ocean of mists swells and rolls, now concealing, 
now revealing glimpses of the world under it. It 
breaks apart into fantastic forms that begin to glide 
up the peaks and mount above them like wraiths. 
The'sun darts sheafs of golden arrows in through the 
openings, and these in time slay the pale dragons of 
