In "The Canoe and the Saddle" Theodore Winthrop thus translates the good tidings of the mountains:—
Exaltation such as the presence of the sublime and solemn heights arouses, we dwellers eastward cannot have as an abiding influence. Other things we may have, for Nature will not let herself anywhere be scorned; but only mountains, and chiefest the giants of snow, can teach whatever lessons there may be in vaster distances and deeper depths of palpable ether, in lonely grandeur without desolation, and in the illimitable, bounded within an outline. Therefore, needing all these emotions at their maximum, we were compelled to make pilgrimages back to the mountains....
Mountains have been waiting, even in ancient worlds, for cycles, while mankind looked upon them as high, cold, dreary, crushing—as resorts for demons and homes of desolating storms. It is only lately, in the development of men's comprehension of nature, that mountains have been recognized as our noblest friends, our most exalting and inspiring comrades, our grandest emblems of divine power and divine peace.
XX
JOHN MUIR
John Muir arrived in San Francisco by boat from Panama in 1868. He was thirty years old. This was in the days of adventure. San Francisco Bay was alive with strange ships from every part of the globe. The city was filled with adventurers. On every hand were heard exciting tales of colonization and wealth in South America, Siberia, and Australia, stories of fabulous fortunes made in the islands of the South Seas, and rumors of rich strikes by the "Bonanza Kings" in the mines of Nevada. These things did not interest Muir. He became the Nestor of National Parks.
JOHN MUIR AT THE FOOT OF A DOUGLAS SPRUCE IN MUIR WOODS
The second day after reaching San Francisco, he wandered away alone into the wilderness. He heard Nature's bugle-call and was led on and on. He wandered far into the flower-filled distances, threaded the forests, and climbed the heights where wild cataracts leaped and where the glaciers had left their story.