and I had no blankets. Gladly I welcomed the
morning star.

The dawn in the dry, wavering air of the desert was glorious. Everything
encouraged my undertaking and betokened success. There was no cloud in
the sky, no storm-tone in the wind. Breakfast of bread and tea was soon
made. I fastened a hard, durable crust to my belt by way of provision,
in case I should be compelled to pass a night on the mountain-top; then,
securing the remainder of my little stock against wolves and wood-rats,
I set forth free and hopeful.

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains! To behold this
alone is worth the pains of any excursion a thousand times over. The
highest peaks burned like islands in a sea of liquid shade. Then the
lower peaks and spires caught the glow, and long lances of light,
streaming through many a notch and pass, fell thick on the frozen
meadows. The majestic form of Ritter was full in sight, and I pushed
rapidly on over rounded rock-bosses and pavements, my iron-shod shoes
making a clanking sound, suddenly hushed now and then in rugs of
bryanthus, and sedgy lake-margins soft as moss. Here, too, in this
so-called "land of desolation," I met cassiope, growing in fringes among
the battered rocks. Her blossoms had faded long ago, but they were still
clinging with happy memories to the evergreen sprays, and still so
beautiful as to thrill every fiber of one's being. Winter and summer,
you may hear her voice, the low, sweet melody of her purple bells. No
evangel among all the mountain plants speaks Nature's love more plainly
than cassiope. Where she dwells, the redemption of the coldest solitude
is complete. The very rocks and glaciers seem to feel her presence, and
become imbued with her own fountain sweetness. All things were warming
and awakening. Frozen rills began to flow, the marmots came out of their
nests in boulder-piles and climbed sunny rocks to bask, and the
dun-headed sparrows were flitting about seeking their breakfasts. The
lakes seen from every ridge-top were brilliantly rippled and spangled,
shimmering like the thickets of the low Dwarf Pines. The rocks, too,
seemed responsive to the vital heat--rock-crystals and snow-crystals
thrilling alike. I strode on exhilarated, as if never more to feel
fatigue, limbs moving of themselves, every sense unfolding like the
thawing flowers, to take part in the new day harmony.

All along my course thus far, excepting when down in the canons, the
landscapes we