He turned over and went to sleep again, and slept until we stopped for noon. We made a long drive to-day and are camping at the foot of Bear River mountain.
We had a hard rain and hail storm this afternoon. It was very violent while it lasted, and we halted by the roadside until it was over. It was over in half an hour.
Mr. Curry has suffered with a severe headache and high fever all day, the result of that hearty breakfast this morning after fasting so long.
BEAR RIVER MOUNTAIN.
Friday, at noon, August 18.
I am on the summit of Bear River Mountain, in the border of a beautiful grove of pine and quaking-asp, near a spring of the most delicious ice-cold water. I must be some miles ahead of the wagons that I left toiling up the steep mountain side. Yet I do not feel that I am alone. Oh, no. I feel that God is here in his might, majesty, power and glory. I feel His nearness now, and as I gaze from these dizzy heights upon the country spread out beneath my feet, I am lost in admiration, the scene is so grand, so magnificent, that I forget my own vanity and nothingness. I feel that I am standing upon an altar raised by Nature’s grateful hand up to Nature’s God, and that I could offer myself a willing sacrifice.
This is emphatically one of the high and sacred spots of earth. How manifold, how wonderful are the works of Nature: Everywhere something worthy of our highest admiration is presented to view; everywhere do we see the manifestation of an invisible and omnipotent Creator. The terrific storm, the broad prairies, the majestic forest, excite within our bosoms emotions of awe and admiration, yet there are no places on earth that I have seen which have a tendency to inspire me with such tender feelings, such elevated, pure, holy thoughts as mountains.
Oh, it seems that one could never sin, or have an evil thought, in such a place as this. Behold the mountains as they stand upon their broad bases, contemplate them as they rear their snowy tops in awful, majestic grandeur above the clouds, view them as you will, and they ever present the same untiring pleasure to the mind.
Men and women will travel thousands of miles and make the greatest exertion to climb the rugged steeps of mountains, to enjoy for one short hour the charming prospect. I have wondered at this sometimes, as I have read of their hazardous exploits in trying to obtain a point where they could have the finest view, but I never shall again.
A country destitute of mountains may be fertile and productive of all that conduces to human happiness, yet it will lack the essential of attractive moral grandeur.