Like gates of Paradise.
Well may imagination faint
Before your sacred blaze,
And baffled science fail to paint
The source of heaven-lit rays.
The aurora borealis, is a phenomenon which I always contemplate with mingled admiration and pleasure. All that is seen, all that is heard in this unfathomable solitude, is both agreeable and instructive. It strikes, captivates, and elevates the mind towards the Author of nature. Mirabilia opera Domini!
After much fatigue, labor, and admiration, on the 15th we traversed the high lands separating the waters of Oregon from those of the south branch of the Sascatshawin, or the ancient Bourbon river, so called before the Canadian conquest by the British.[225] It is the largest tributary of the Winnepeg, which flows into Hudson’s Bay by the River Nelson, 58 deg. north latitude.[226]
{144} The Christian’s standard, the cross, has been reared at the source of these two rivers: may it be a sign of salvation and peace to all the scattered and itinerant tribes east and west of these gigantic and lurid mountains.
On the cypress which serves for constructing the cross, the eagle, emblem of the Indian warrior, perches himself. The huntsman aims—the noble bird lies prostrate, and even in his fall, seems to retain his kingly pride. It so forcibly recalls to memory the beautiful lines of the illustrious Campbell, that I quote them in full:—
Fallen as he is, the king of birds still seems