il takes bold way through some of the very finest
scenery of the West. These new ships of the desert, the passenger
trains, glide gracefully down from the aerial highways of the mountain
passes into the heart of our fertile oases. Whichever way the traveler
turns he sees something absolutely new, and often in strange contrast
with what he has just been beholding. Stately, snow-crowned giants of
the lordly hills, fir-fringed up to timber line, stand motherlike, or
bishoplike, crozier-cragged, shepherding the verdant uplands and the
velvety valleys whose billowy meadows bend beneath the highland
zephyrs or fall before the scythe of the prospering farmer. Now he
beholds the ruggedest of capacious canyons where the rollicking rivers
and rhythmic rills have cut great gorges deep into the rocky ribs of
the tightly hugging hills. Another turn and he sees the hearty herds
transforming themselves automatically into gold for their happy
owners; another turn shows the lazy rivers arising from their age-long
beds and mossy couches to climb the hot hillsides and to toil and
sweat at the command of the lord of this world, as they irrigate his
arid acres. Yet another turn and the wrathful river is carrying on its
breast the tens of thousands of winter-cut logs dancing like straws on
its frothy surface on their way to the busy mills; and the turbulent
streams, their wildness tamed and harnessed, serve the needs of man
like trusted domestic servants.

But this is not the way to view mountains; it is only surface sights
we get in this manner. He who would know the beauties of the hills
must become acquainted with them personally _and on foot_. Anyone can
enjoy the lazy luxury of the cozy precincts of an upholstered,
porter-served car. He may travel horseback or donkey-back, if he cares
to visit only where such sure-footed animals can go. However, when I
want to see the stately things among the unchiseled palaces and
temples where Nature pays homage in the courts of the Divine
Architect, I dismiss all modes of conveyance, and with well-nailed
shoes, rough clothes, a staff, and a lunch, I take the kingdom by
force. When once in, I am royally entertained; for though coy and
apparently hard to woo, Nature is a most delightful companion when
once you are acquainted.

The distant mountains, that uprear
Their solid bastions to the skies,
Are crossed by pathways, that appear