“On the mountains is freedom! The breath of decay
Never sullies the fresh-flowing air.”
—Schiller.
THE next day the whole party were domiciled in a little stone structure one-story high, hung like an eyrie upon a cliff. The site overlooked great depths, and their domicile much like a tiny doll’s house perched upon a mantelpiece. Above and beyond were insurmountable heights, and only a narrow pony-path separated this little dwelling from the forest-clad valleys thousands of feet below. Within a few steps a remarkable view-point, a promontory jutting out in mid-air; and before them rose “The Five Points of Eternal Snow.”
Kunchingunga was no “Jungfrau,” but a matron, with her children and grandchildren clustered around her imperial throne.
Adele wandered off alone, and stood upon the promontory, looking forward. On a level with her eye and apparently not far off, soared a giant bird, poised in space, he being thousands of feet above the earth beneath him. Adele waved her handkerchief to attract his attention; the majestic areonaut merely changed the angle of his wings to bring his eye into better position, and refused to approach. A chilly current of air came over the crest of the mountain; Adele drew her wrap about her, and in so doing lost hold upon her kerchief—it floated off on the breeze. It was no sooner free from her hand, than the expert bird sweeping round in majestic curves upon the wings of the wind, picked it up in mid-air, and soon disappeared amid the foliage of the forest. This wild denizen of the woods, who could sustain himself at a perilous height in space, apparently had an instinctive fear of man, even of a young girl, yet no fear of man’s inanimate production, the handkerchief; and his penetrating eye had evidently grasped the situation from the distance of half a mile. Such was the clearness of the atmosphere, and such the acute vision of the bird.
Adele admired his quickness of sight, his natural cleverness, and his wild knowledge of the world, as he sailed away with what she had held in her hand an instant before. “I don’t mind the loss,” said she, “but I do dislike extremely to have things snatched away, first by the wind and then by that eagle. What the Doctor calls ‘the wild forces’ in nature, surely do require taming.”
She looked across the valley. The lower ranges rose above a belt of haze, the mountains above did not appear to rest upon any solid base, and the summits of eternal snows appeared as if in another world—a world where corruption had put on incorruption, the world of purity and whiteness. Seen through the rarefied air above, the apparent nearness of such stupendous masses, solid and firm yet resting upon an ethereal base, somewhat appalled Adele; and she drew her wrap closer about her as her eyes wandered from peak to peak extending in endless length on either side, yet all above and beyond the reach of man. She knew them to be the backbone of a continent, which (when seen from certain elevations, at the end of the rainy season when the southeast monsoon ceases to blow) was visible over an expanse of two hundred miles. She knew this range of peaks must be miles away as the bird flies, yet so wide was the angle between the horizon and those celestial summits, and so great the difference between her own level and that of the Eternal Pure Whiteness, that she felt their presence near, and herself in the presence of the sublime in nature. Her natural eye told her this, and gave her a new physical sensation which was exhilarating, uplifting and inspiring. And with this inspiration came a new incentive to spiritual perception, a tremendous stimulant to idealize. It was, indeed, what she saw—a Celestial Vision.
She caught her breath as she gazed afar; and a sense of wonder, aye, of adoration, welled up from within, and a comprehending love for the beautiful and for the sublime. These emotions, like a powerful impulse heavenward, filled her whole being, and words came—breathed rather than spoken—towards the One who ever dwells in nature, ever listens, and always hears. Forgetting self, unconscious that she was actually praying, she yet prayed. Such is the compelling force of the sublime in nature.
“Our Father who art!—art in Heaven!—Father in Heaven! where all is beautiful!