r. Here, on the equator, man may freeze to death.
Bear a stout heart and a firm face against the cold and the wind.

Now it is too steep even for the horses and mules of the Andes. You are
ascending toward the snowy peak whose alluring brightness has charmed
the long way, since you saw it first. Dismount and climb as you can
among the rocks. The glittering snow is near. You pant as if you might
soon lose all power to breathe again; yet, press on, and now touch at
last the pure, bright, equatorial snow.

Would you now reach the very summit which shines far, far above you,
arrayed in glowing white. That you cannot do. Angels descending on
ministries of grace may touch that snowy mountain top, but mortal feet
it never felt. That radiant peak is sacred from bold endeavor and the
assaults of battle. War's gory feet never climbed so far. War's flaming
torch never stained that pure and snowy light. Swords never flashed
among those white defiles. Angels of peace guard the tops of the Andes.
There is truce to all the rage of earth. During the middle ages, an
interval in every week was sacred from the assaults of foes. It was
called the Truce of God. Not for three days, but for countless ages,
from the birth of time to the final consummation, on these snowy summits
of the Andes shines in pure white the Holy Truce of God.

In Italy and Sicily, an ethereal veil, a pale, blue gossamer, spreads
over the scenery, as if each object had caught some delicate reflection
from the blue heavens above; and the golden illumination of this misty
veil causes the peculiar charm of Italian sunsets. This effect is
generally wanting in the scenery of the Andes near the equator, though
among the mountains more remote, a similar effect is sometimes seen.
Among the Andes of the equatorial region, so pure is the air, that the
farthest objects visible are exactly defined. The curves and angles of
distant cliffs are as clearly seen as those of masses of rock at one's
side. Hardly a ray of light is so refracted as to disturb the perfect
shape and color of any object in the horizon. The splendor of the sun
brings out the true colors of everything within the range of sight; and
so various are these colors, and so diversified are the groupings of
ridges and valleys, in the scenery of the Andes of the equator, that the
pure developing and defining light and the clear air of that region
produce effects as enchanting as the transforming light and the soft
veil