jelly, and the big
pines and oaks thrill and swish and wave their branches with startling
effect. Then the talkers were suddenly hushed, and the solemnity on
their faces was sublime. One in particular of these winter neighbors, a
somewhat speculative thinker with whom I had often conversed, was a firm
believer in the cataclysmic origin of the Valley; and I now jokingly
remarked that his wild tumble-down-and-engulfment hypothesis might soon
be proved, since these underground rumblings and shakings might be the
forerunners of another Yosemite-making cataclysm, which would perhaps
double the depth of the Valley by swallowing the floor, leaving the ends
of the roads and trails dangling three or four thousand feet in the air.
Just then came the third series of shocks, and it was fine to see how
awfully silent and solemn he became. His belief in the existence of a
mysterious abyss, into which the suspended floor of the Valley and all
the domes and battlements of the walls might at any moment go roaring
down, mightily troubled him. To diminish his fears and laugh him into
something like reasonable faith, I said, "Come, cheer up; smile a little
and clap your hands, now that kind Mother Earth is trotting us on her
knee to amuse us and make us good." But the well-meant joke seemed
irreverent and utterly failed, as if only prayerful terror could rightly
belong to the wild beauty-making business. Even after all the heavier
shocks were over I could do nothing to reassure him, on the contrary,
he handed me the keys of his little store to keep, saying that with a
companion of like mind he was going to the lowlands to stay until the
fate of poor, trembling Yosemite was settled. In vain I rallied them on
their fears, calling attention to the strength of the granite walls of
our Valley home, the very best and solidest masonry in the world, and
less likely to collapse and sink than the sedimentary lowlands to which
they were looking for safety; and saying that in any case they sometime
would have to die, and so grand a burial was not to be slighted. But
they were too seriously panic-stricken to get comfort from anything I
could say.

During the third severe shock the trees were so violently shaken that
the birds flew out with frightened cries. In particular, I noticed two
robins flying in terror from a leafless oak, the branches of which
swished and quivered as if struck by a heavy battering-ram. Exceedingly
interesting were the flashing