While the tops of the highest mountain-swells show only small patches
of snow and no glaciers.
Glenora Peak, on which I stood, is the highest point of a spur that
puts out from the main range in a northerly direction. It seems to
have been a rounded, broad-backed ridge which has been sculptured
into its present irregular form by short residual glaciers, some of
which, a mile or two long, are still at work.
As I lingered, gazing on the vast show, luminous shadowy clouds
seemed to increase in glory of color and motion, now fondling the
highest peaks with infinite tenderness of touch, now hovering above
them like eagles over their nests.
When night was drawing near, I ran down the flowery slopes
exhilarated, thanking God for the gift of this great day. The setting
sun fired the clouds. All the world seemed new-born. Every thing,
even the commonest, was seen in new light and was looked at with new
interest as if never seen before. The plant people seemed glad, as if
rejoicing with me, the little ones as well as the trees, while every
feature of the peak and its traveled boulders seemed to know what I
had been about and the depth of my joy, as if they could read faces.
