rst, was it already too late to
hasten thither, and enjoy the splendid spectacle so freely offered and
so alluring; secondly, could I, if yet in time, venture so boldly upon
the edge of Winter, and risk the possibility--nay, probability--of being
snow-bound for four or six months, 30 miles from any human habitation?

I did not long consider. I felt every moment that the soul of Summer was
passing. I scented the ascending incense of smoking and crackling
boughs. What a requiem was being chanted by all the tremulous and broken
voices of Nature! Would I, could I, longer forbear to join the
passionate and tumultuous _miserere_? It seemed that I could not, for
gathering about me the voluminous furs of Siberia, I bade adieu to
friends, not without some forebodings awakened by the admonitions of my
elders, then, dropping all the folly of the world, like a monk I went
silently and alone into the monastery of a Sierran solitude, resigned,
trusting, prayerful.

What an entering it was! With slow, devotional steps I approached the
valley. There was a thin veil of snow over the upper trail. It was
smooth and unbroken as I came upon it, following the blazed trees in my
way. Footprints of bear and fox, squirrel and coyote, were traceable.
The owl hooted at me, and the jay shot past me like a blue flash of
light, uttering her prolonged, shrill cry. As for the owl, I could not
see him, but I heard him at startling intervals give the challenge, "Who
are you?" so I advanced and gave the countersign. I don't believe it was
for his grave face alone that the owl was chosen symbol of Wisdom.

Not too soon came the steep and perilous descent into the abysmal depths
of the mountain fastness. It is a shame that pilgrims who come up
thither do not time their steps so as to reach this _Ultima Thule_ of
old times and ways at sunset. Then the magnificence of the spectacle
culminates. That new world below there is illuminated with the soft
tints of Eden. What unutterable fullness of beauty pervades all. The
forests--those moss-like fields are forests, and mighty ones, too--are
all aflame with the burnished gold of sunset, brightening the gold of
autumn; for gold twice refined, as it were, gilds the splendid
landscape. Only think of that picture, shining through the mellow haze
of Indian Summer, and flashing with the lambent glimmer of a myriad
glassy leaves. You can not see them moving, yet they twinkle
incessantly, and the warm air trembles about